I press my lips together to muffle a laugh, then drop my guard. Goldie’s just fine all on her own.
He continues looking at her, then offers her an Oreo from the mini pack at his side—he doesn’t offer one to me—and asks, “How do you eat yours?”
She answers by shoving the entire cookie into her mouth.
“Efficient,” he says, before popping his own cookie into his mouth.
They smile at each other. And just like that, they’re friends.
Tate stands back against the wall for us to pass. The museum won’t open to the public for another couple of hours, so none of the backlights have been switched on yet. The gift shop is partially dark too, with just a few display-case lights adding a glow to the room.
Goldie doesn’t need light though. She spots the table of Nerissa T-shirts and immediately starts grabbing at them, begging me to buy her a new one.
“I’m an unpaid volunteer,” I remind her, easing the fabric from her hands and smoothing out the folded shirts.
“With an employee discount,” Tate says, piling more into her eager arms.
Goldie grins at him. “What’s the most expensive thing in the gift shop?”
Tate smiles back, twisting to face one of the large blown-glass figurines on the shelf behind the register.
I looked at the price tag once and nearly choked, and still break into a sweat every time I have to dust it. “No!” I say, before he can point it out. “You can have one shirt,one.”
Goldie makes a grumbling sound that fades as soon as Tate offers her another Oreo.
“There’s nothing that amazing in here anyway. We keep the real mermaids locked up.” He pulls a keyring from his pocket. “Wanna sneak a peek at the new one before anybody else gets to see it?”
They take off so fast that I nearly drop the T-shirts in my hands. “What happened to wanting to spend more time together?” I call after her.
“I see you all the time, I live with you. Right now, I want to check out the mermaid with this guy!”
I faintly hear him tell her his name as I start to refold the shirts, only to jump as another, much closer voice speaks from behind me.
“His younger brothers taught him all the kid tricks,” Wren says. “That, and he always has snacks.”
His voice is casual, light, but it still makes my pulse stutter. I force my eyes down to the shirts in front of me, trying to focus. My hands are moving too fast now, my fingers shaking a little as I try to keep folding.
It’s not that I mind Goldie picking Tate over me. It’s more that I was planning on keeping her glued to my side today so I wouldn’t have to deal with being alone with Wren. Just me and him. The last time we were together, things shifted, and I don’t know how to shift them back.
“All his kid tricks seem to cost me money.” I lift a T-shirt then gesture to the register. “Want to”—I stop a split second before saying “check me out” and instead say—“ring me up?”
Thankfully, Wren doesn’t react to my halted sentence and moves behind the counter, reaching down to power on the register.
We wait for the boot-up sequence to start.
“My sister and I—well, mostly Goldie—talked with Mrs.Mayhew about donating portions of her husband’s collection to McCleave’s, and she’s happy to give you whatever you want.”
Wren’s gaze drops to the counter, shoulders tensing. “Yeah, she called to make the offer herself. My dad agreed to let me look, but we can’t promise her anything in terms of displays. Mostly I’m hoping to sort out anything of financial value for her future.”
I nod, aching over the helplessness I know he feels having to say that.
“But thank you,” he adds, his voice carefully even, as though he’s trying to smooth over his frustration with his dad before it spills out. “I’ve offered several times to help her, but she never would have accepted if your sister hadn’t found those letters.”
We’re quiet for a moment too long, and I wonder if this is how it’s always going to be between us—forced politeness and awkward silences. “Yeah, I mean, you’re welcome.” The words feel like stones in my mouth. I clear my throat. “Do you know when—” I start, but Wren interrupts me.
“Tate is going to pick up the boxes later this week and bring everything here for me to go through.” He pauses. “I didn’t know if you’d want to be around for that.”
My gut tightens. Yes, I want to be there, but the thought of being so close to him again, of working side by side, weighing every word like it might crack something else wide open, fills me with dread. And now I’m worrying that there was something in the way he spoke just now that means he thinks I should say no, or at least is hoping I will.
