“I’ll have to inspect that nerd card later, compare it to my own. For now, I’m realizing I should have asked if you have any food allergies or aversions.” He motions to the containers before popping the lid on the closest one.
I stretch my legs and lean back, supporting my weight on my palms. “Nope. I’m easy.”
One of his eyebrows quirks as he glances my way. The tilt to his lips makes me realize what I just said. His eyes sweep over my stretched-out form and his other eyebrow rises to meet the first.
I sit up quickly so he doesn’t think my words, paired with my half-prone body are some kind of invitation. “About food. Easy about food. No allergies, and I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything you feed me.”
His laugh is a low rumble. “I knew what you meant.”
His smile continues its slow stretch, making the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that has my libido revving to match the pace of my heart. If he keeps looking at me like that, I might become easy in other ways too. More fun ways.
Finally, he breaks eye contact and it feels like I’ve been released from some magical hold. He hands me a reusable plastic plate and motions to the open containers—sandwiches, grapes, cheese, and raw vegetables with dip. I fill my plate and watch as he does the same.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a proper picnic before,” I say. “Bridget and I sometimes eat takeout in the park during lunch, which kinda feels like a picnic, except this took actual effort.”
“Unless I bought it all in the premade section of the supermarket and put it in containers tolooklike I put in effort.” He pops a grape into his mouth.
I freeze with a sandwich triangle halfway to my mouth. “Did you?”
He eyes me, his face blank. After a moment, he starts to chuckle. “No. All my own work. Had you going, though.”
“Har har,” I say dryly, but I can’t help the giggle that follows.
“Tell me more about Bridget,” he says.
Surprised by the statement, it takes me a moment to decide where to begin. “We’ve been friends for a little over six years. We both started working at Quest at the same time, and we clicked immediately. We would spend all day together at work, then hang out most nights. Right from the start, I was like part of her family. She had her own apartment at the time, but her parents would invite us over for dinner regularly.” My throat tightens thinking about the countless family dinners we had, the day trips we took together with no destination in mind, the nights spent curled up on the couch watching movies.
Hugh’s hand on my leg draws my attention. “Bridget’s dad passed away, right?”
I nod, blinking rapidly against the sudden stinging in my eyes. “Two years ago. It was like losing another parent. My own parents were amazing, but they were so busy we didn’t have a lot of quality family time. Then my aunt and uncle were so distant and cold, I spent a lot of time feeling isolated. We had dinner together every night, but it was always a silent affair. Mealtime wasn’t for talking, and food was little more than a necessity. With Bridget’s family, we had these elaborate meals, and there was always laughter and conversation. Her dad was hilarious and smart, and he genuinely cared about me and what was going on in my life. If I miss him this much, I can’t imagine how much Bridget misses him.” My voice wavers and cracks on the last few words. I stuff a big bite of food in my mouth to keep from crying.
Hugh inches closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. I angle toward him and he pulls me in tighter, running his hand slowly up and down my back. In the years since my parents died, I’ve heard endless words of comfort, but I’m glad Hugh doesn’t say anything right now. His presence, the warmth and solidness of his body, his now-familiar scent wrapping around me, brings more comfort than any words could.
Once I’m certain I won’t burst into tears, I ease away from him, meeting his eyes briefly. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” The tiny, reassuring smile he offers makes me want to cry all over again, but for a completely different reason. I told him earlier how nice it felt to be seen and understood, and that’s exactly how he makes me feel all the time. It’s heartening and yet scary as hell at the same time.
Hugh shifts so he’s no longer directly in my personal space. He’s still closer than he was originally, yet not so close we have to contort into awkward positions to make eye contact. “Have things changed since Bridget became your boss?”
I tilt my head back and forth. “Yes and no. She’s still Bridget. She’s still my best friend and soul sister. A lot changed at once, though. She started dating David and got promoted within a few weeks, so she’s busy and has less free time. We went from working side by side every day and hanging out all the time to her being in the big office and working longer hours or being with David. It’s been an adjustment, but that’s part of getting older, right? Things change, people change, life changes.”
“I think you missed your calling as a psychologist,” Hugh says.
“Ha. Maybe that can be my next profession.”
“Are you in the market for a new profession?”
“No?” It comes out sounding like a question, which makes Hugh’s brows arch. “Maybe? I don’t know. I like my job well enough and I’m good at it. Lately, though…” I trail off, sighing. “Lately it feels like I’m doing it by rote. I’d been feeling that way for a few months, and then when I started working at Santa’s Village, it made me realize how bored I am at my day job. At the Village, I’m always on my toes and always doing something different. Something fun.”
“So why don’t you quit? Find a job that excites you and challenges you?”
I sputter out a laugh. “It’s not that simple. Not every job is fun or exciting. And quitting doesn’t guarantee I’ll find something better. Or find something at all.” I think of Celia and her trouble finding and keeping a job. Mind you, that says as much about her as it does about the current job market, but still. “My job may not thrill me, but it keeps a roof over my head and pays the bills.”
“Money isn’t everything, though, is it?” he asks.
Without thinking, I say, “Spoken by someone who has tons of it.” My hand flies to cover my mouth, even though it’s too late to take the words back. Heat floods my cheeks. It takes me a few seconds to gain the courage to meet Hugh’s eyes. His expression is unreadable. I shift my hand enough to say, “Remember how you said you don’t expect me to be perfect or say the right thing? Please keep that in mind while I remove my foot from my mouth.”
He laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right. I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want to. I’m privileged and I can acknowledge that privilege. Doesn’t mean I’ve never struggled, though.”
