Then laugh, because what else am I supposed to do?
“Well,” I say, a little startled, “Plus Size Life with Esme and a Van, but yeah. That’s me.”
She practically bounces down the steps.
“I’m Bit!” she says, beaming. “This is Angie—she does everything around here. I can’t believe it’s you! What are you doing here?”
Her energy is so bright and genuine it almost knocks me backward. She’s sunshine in apron form.
For one ridiculous second, I forget why I’m here.
Forget the papers.
Forget the stalker.
Forget the man whose name has lived under my skin for three years like a splinter.
I smile back before I can stop myself.
“You know my show?” I ask, a little amazed.
“Are you kidding? I love your stuff!” she gushes. “The one where you reviewed that roadside pie place in Tennessee? I watched that one like three times. Also, the flea market one where you cried over vintage Pyrex? Same, girl! Seriously, same.”
I laugh, really laugh, and some of the tightness in my shoulders loosens.
“Okay, that’s actually amazing.”
Bit grins at me like we’re already friends.
But the moment doesn’t last.
Reality comes rushing back in cold and hard.
Why I’m here.
What I need.
The man I have to see—who might be romantically attached to this energetic, pretty woman.
My smile fades just a little.
I bite my lip and make myself do this before I lose my nerve.
“Actually,” I say, voice tightening, “I’m here to see someone.”
Bit tilts her head, curious.
“Who?”
“Um, Benji Gunner,” I say, quieter now. “Is he here?”
The shift in her face is immediate.
Surprise first.
Then something else.
Recognition? Alarm? Sympathy?
