Her eyes widen slightly, then soften as a small smile flits over her face. She steps into my arms, giving me a quick, light hug. When she pulls away, she immediately heads for the door, scooping up a backpack I didn’t notice before. “Have a good night,” she says. “I’ll see you at some point tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you. Have a good time. And thanks again for the sweater.”
She gives me a little wave and disappears out the door. I stay where I am for a few moments, admiring the sweater. It really is a thoughtful gift. In all the talking we’ve done over the last few days, neither of us has brought up what I said about falling for Hugh. I think she’s afraid to ask, and I haven’t brought it up again because I feel like if I talk to anyone about it, it should be Bridget. Most people would likely think it should be Hugh I’m saying it to, but I still don’t know if he’s staying or going. I don’t want to complicate things by throwing my feelings out there, especially since I haven’t really allowed myself to think too much about it.
Not wanting to lose my good-day buzz, I decide to take immediate advantage of my alone time. I head for the living room, where I turn on the stereo and start dancing. Fiddlesticks darts into the room, spots me bouncing around, and runs back out again. I bop over to the stereo to turn it up when “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers comes on. I become a dancing machine—arms flailing, legs kicking, hips rocking—all as I belt out the lyrics.
I do a little shimmy and hop around to face the other way. The words of the song are replaced by a blood-curdling scream when I realize someone is standing in the doorway. Hugh holds up his hands and I clutch at my chest, doubling over and laughing breathlessly. Despite wanting to run to my room and hide, I peek up at him. He’s still standing in the doorway, watching me with a mixture of amusement and affection. It’s the affection that makes my heart race even faster.
“You scared me,” I call, hurrying to turn the volume down.
“Sorry.” He steps inside and closes the door. “It wasn’t closed all the way. I knocked, but you didn’t hear me so I decided to just enjoy the show.”
I cover my flaming face with my hands. I forgot to make sure the door was locked when Celia left. I’m usually careful about things like that, despite this being a secure building. Thank god it was only Hugh at the door.
Soft footfalls move toward me. “That was a spectacular performance,” he says, gently prying my hands away from my face. “I’ll never be able to hear “Mr. Brightside” again without picturing that little shimmy thing you did.”
I’m about to apologize for the fact he can never unsee my spazzy dancing when it hits me why it’s strange to see him here. “How are you here? The Village is a madhouse this week.”
His smile falters almost imperceptibly. “I had a few meetings and some other things to take care of today,” he says. “I ran into Celia at the Village before I left and she said you’d be on your own for the night. She told me in a very wink-wink nudge-nudge sort of way.”
“She’s subtle, that one.” I wouldn’t have pegged Celia for the type to orchestrate a night alone for Hugh and me. I guess it shows she really is trying to change.
Hugh is still holding my hands in his, and he gives them a little jiggle. “Would you like to go out for dinner? I was thinking we could order in, but on the way over I realized we haven’t been on a proper date. Unless, of course, you really did want to spend the night on your own.”
“Pff, when I could spend it with you? Give me five minutes.” I grab the box with the wool sweater in it and dash to my room.
