“Don’t you have dresses to finish?” he asks.
“Only one,” I admit. “I already finished that wedding dress order for the mom and her daughter.”
“Already?” He stops so abruptly I almost run into him. He glares down at me. “Riley said that would take you five months. It’s only been two.”
“That was before I moved above my shop,” I say without thinking. “Now I can work as long as I want.”
“Abigail Turner,” he says slowly. “You finished a five-month order in two months?”
“Actually,” I correct, planting my hands on my hips, “I finished it in five weeks. Which is technically less than two months. And what’s it to you anyway? I’m an adult, Ethan. I can make my own decisions.”
“Apparently not very good ones,” he snaps. “You look fucking exhausted, Abigail. And you’re way too fucking skinny. You need to come home.”
The words hit hard.
Before I can unleash the angry response burning on my tongue, his phone rings.
“What?” he answers sharply. Then…“Fuck. I’ll be there in ten.”
He ends the call without taking his eyes off me and points back toward my shop.
“Go home,” he orders. “I’ll order you food. You need to eat and sleep. Don’t fucking open that shop tomorrow.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
He just turns and walks away.
And here I am again.
Alone.
Please turn back around and yell at me.
At least then I wouldn’t feel so invisible.
***One week later***
“How’s the Christmas fundraiser going?” I ask Lila between customers. “Need any help?”
“Nah,” she says with a kind smile. “Me, Riley, and Sunny sat on our asses yesterday and told the guys how to decorate the tree. It was comical watching them argue over where the ornaments should go.”
“Oh,” I say, keeping my smile in place. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “This morning, before I left, they were trying to figure out how to add lights to the compound walls. Spike was adamant it would look stupid, but Riley just gave him those sad eyes, and he caved.”
“Yeah,” I say. “He’ll give her just about anything she asks for.” I clear my throat. “So… how are the kids?”
“They’re good,” she says. “Bree is ready to visit Santa, and Micah is trying to convince Max to let the golden retrievers live in the house.”
“I thought Skip made them their own place,” I say, thinking of the two little pups who were basically the newest Shadows before I left.
“He did, but they keep scratching at everyone’s doors because they want in.” She grins. “Oh, speaking of doors. Eli finally decided on a color for his.”
My chest tightens.
I smile anyway, remembering the day Riley and I painted the doors. Mine had been light purple with darker shades blended in. Riley’s was teal and pink. Sunny’s yellow and black.
I started that tradition because all the houses looked the same. Too uniform. Too cultish.
