I whirl around.
Patton stands there in his firefighter uniform, hair slightly damp like he just showered after a call. He’s smiling a small, corner-of-mouth smile that makes my knees weak.
And yes, my fingers drift to my lips.
“You’re here,” I say stupidly.
He rolls his eyes. “Just got back from a false alarm on Cedar Street. Thought I’d—” He stops when he sees my face. “Are you okay?”
No. My family’s restaurant is going to have to close. I’m broke. I’m exhausted. I’m terrified of losing everything I’ve worked for. But he’s here and not ignoring me.
I clear my throat, feeling like I’m telling half a lie. “I’m fine.”
So tall and broad, he steps closer, crowding into my space in a way that should feel overwhelming but somehow feels safe. A protective wall between me and the world—when it used to stand between us. “Winnie?—”
Then Pauline’s orthopedic shoes squeak around the corner, and we jump apart.
“I was heading to the copying machine!” I announce too loudly.
Pauline gives us a look that says she knows exactly what we were doing—or about to do—and disappears into the breakroom.
And what might that be? If it weren’t for the squirrel costume, I’d drag this man into the closet and see what it’s like to kiss in the light of day, er, small, dark space. But why? Because of a bet? Because he’s a distraction from my problems, or do I really like him?
Patton and I stare at each other as if each of our minds are filled with questions we’reafraid to answer.
“Want to grab lunch?” he pauses, then adds, “We should talk.”
“I have a meeting—” with my bank account, my brother, with God. How am I going to fix this? “It’ll probably run long.”
“After?”
“I’ll text you.”
He nods, but his eyes linger on my face like he’s trying to read everything I’m not saying.
Then his radio crackles, and he’s gone.
27
WINNIE
The meeting is interminable.Budget discussions and permit approvals and Mayor Barbie’s thoughts on decorative bunting. All I can think about is Patton and the kiss and my family and the bet and how everything is out of control.
When it finally ends, I head straight for my car.
My phone rings the second I close the door. Fab’s name flashes on the screen.
Palms instantly sweaty, I answer. “Any update?”
“The landlord gave us until the end of the month. That’s it. If we don’t have the money—” He exhales shakily. “Either way, we have to leave.”
“There has to be?—”
“I caught Mom in the walk-in eating cannoli filling with a spoon again. Dad is cooking like we have a line out the door. They don’t know I told you.”
They’re in denial.
I say, “Don’t let them do anything rash. I’ll figure something out.”
