“Ok, spill,” Gwen says, folding her arms. The cold air fogs around her words.
“There’s nothing to spill,” Tess says. “We’re stocking.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been glowing all day. You haven’t yelled at a single person, not even the delivery guy who brought us whole-fat milk instead of skim. And he…” Gwen hooks a thumb toward the door, toward me, “is a different person. He’s like a Golden Retriever who just found out he’s going to the park. So, what’s the deal, boss?”
There’s a pause.
Then Tess sighs, the long-suffering I-hate-my-life sigh, but it sounds softer today.
“We… talked. Last night. He walked me home.”
“He walked you home,” Gwen repeats, and I can hear the grin in her voice. “And? Did ‘walking’ involve any non-walking activities?”
Tess makes a noise that is definitely a murder-suppression sound.
“G, shut up. At the crosswalk,” Tess hisses. “It was… small. And… nice.”
“‘Nice,’” Gwen deadpans. “You’re glowing like a hundred-watt bulb because it was ‘nice’?”
“It was… different,” Tess admits, voice smaller. “He’s… not who I thought he was. He’s… lonely, G. And he… he listens.”
Something in my chest tightens.
Because I don’t want to be overhearing this, but I also can’t stop my stupid heart from reacting to the fact that Tess is defending me.
“Also,” Gwen says, and her tone shifts, the teasing gone, replaced by something careful. “He’s a billionaire, Tess. Like… a real one. With lawyers, jets, and probably his own island. Just… be careful. Guys like that… they live in a different world. They don’t… they don’t break, they buy.”
There’s a silence.
I freeze with a scrub brush in my hand.
Because Gwen is saying the thing Tess has been afraid to say out loud. The thing I hate most about myself, the thing that follows me like a shadow. My world’s gravity. How it pulls everything into its orbit. How it contaminates.
“I know,” Tess says finally. “I… I’m being careful. Why would he want to be with someone like me anyway?”
“What do you mean, Tess?” Gwen asks gently.
“Well, I don’t think I’m his usual type. I’m at least ten sizes bigger,” Tess laughs, awkward and brittle.
“Don’t you dare go there, Tess,” Gwen says. “Any man is lucky even to get close to you. Don’t. Go. There.”
I haven’t heard this tone from Gwen before, but she is right.
“Are you sure you want to continue this?” Gwen asks.
Before Tess can answer, I call out, because I can’t help it, because I am trying to be useful, and also because I suddenly need to hear Tess’s voice directed at me, not talking about me like I’m an incoming storm.
“Tess?” I say from outside. “The boxes are done. Did you want me to start on the inventory spreadsheet?”
There’s a beat.
Then Tess calls back, her voice brisk. “Yeah, Leo. Pull it up.”
I hear Gwen’s muffled “Spreadsheet,” like she’s impressed and terrified at the same time.
Tess pushes out of the walk-in with a tub of butter, brushing past Gwen. Gwen just shakes her head, a worried smile on her face.
“Spreadsheets,” Gwen mutters. “Lord, he’s really got you, doesn’t he?”
