“What did he choose?” I ask.
“Red and white,” she laughs. “Sunny tried to convince him to turn it into a whole art piece and paint Santa on it, but he said he didn’t want to repaint his door every holiday.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I get that.”
A customer comes up to the counter, and I step away to ring them out, then move through the shop to straighten displays and refold sweaters.
“So,” Lila says once the customer leaves, “I was thinking, with the fundraiser coming up, I might need to take the next couple of weeks off. If that’s okay. I know you’ve got online orders, but the shop hasn’t been too busy.”
Actually, the shop has beenverybusy.
But I don’t tell her that.
My posted hours are nine to five. But once Lila leaves, I stay open until I’m ready to crawl upstairs and collapse. For weeks, I worked through the wedding gowns. Now I’ve started on the larger dress for the end-of-year wedding order.
And oddly enough, most of my customers come inaftersix. Christmas shoppers who thank me for staying open because they can never make it here after work.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s no problem.”
“You’re the best,” she smiles. “But if things get crazy, just call me, and I’ll come back.”
I nod, because I know she means it.
At six o’clock, Max pulls up. Lila waves goodbye, hops into the car, and they drive off together.
And here I am again.
Alone.
***Two Weeks Later***
Eli stops by late afternoon. I’m always closed on Sundays, but my door is still unlocked because I have a delivery service on its way to pick up some packages.
“There you are,” he says softly, pulling me into a hug. “I wanted to see you before things get crazy again.”
I breathe him in like I’ve been holding my breath all day.
“I’m glad you came,” I say. “I was starting to think I imagined having friends.”
He chuckles, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or just knowing.
We sit on the couch for a few minutes, knees touching, talking about nothing important. The shop. The weather. A fabric shipment that came in late. Normal things. Safe things.
Then his phone buzzes.
He glances down and sighs. “I’ve gotta go.”
Already?
“The fundraiser?” I ask, even though I already know.
“Yeah,” he says. “They’re doing another run-through before tomorrow. Spike also changed Christmas with everyone to the day after, just in case you forgot.”
My heart pounds with excitement at the thought of seeing everyone, including Tank, and I smile a real smile for the first time in weeks.
“I remember,” I say lightly. “Thanks for reminding me, though.”
He nods, relieved. “Good. I didn’t want you thinking you were missing anything.”
