I knew it for a joke, but he was right. I’d never found myself in a situation where I’d rely on a guy to keep me company all the time, even if it hadn’t been very long. I turned in his arms to face him. “What is this? The apple anniversary?”
“What do you call two apples next to each other?” he asked.
“A peeling?” I guessed.
He grinned. “Nope. A pear.”
My eyes shuttered, but then he kissed me, and I said, “What am I going to do with you?”
Chapter Fourteen
Basil
Challenge: Have a party
Thanksgiving morning arrived at last, crisp and clear. I knocked on Chelsea’s door at five a.m. with bags upon bags of groceries. I had to make a couple of trips to my car to bring it all in. Chelsea asked if she could help, but I shooed her out, the same way my mom would if I were at home today.
I was going to catch hell for staying in Charlottesville when my family was gathering in Richmond. I hoped maybe I could convince Chelsea to come with me over the weekend when things wouldn’t be so hectic there. My family wanted to meet this girl who wasn’t quite my girlfriend but wasn’t not, either.
But I couldn’t pass up this golden opportunity to woo her with the constant love in her life: food. It was obvious she used food as a substitute for love, eating her emotions, as they say, taking my food when she wouldn’t admit she wanted me. I didn’t say it. She’d be right to accuse me of body shaming, which I’d never do. Her body was a wet dream.
I could play with the weapons at my disposal. I intended to win her over one of these days. If I played my cards right, by Christmas, I’d be introducing her as my girlfriend. That would show them all I wasn’t as fickle as they believed.
While I set to work, chopping, mincing, measuring, she peeked through the doorway, watching me like I was the best show on Earth. At some point, Elizabeth arrived, and I put on a timer to join them as Chelsea poured out a tiny glass of kirs and said,“Congrats on the promotion.”
Elizabeth clinked her glass with Chelsea’s. “Thanks.”
“How do you like working full time for Kate?” Chelsea asked.
“It’s great. Did you know she even gave me a title?”
“Oh, what? Princess of the press? Queen of the quill?”
“Empress of editing? No. Nothing quite so posh.” She polished off the kirs. “I’m simply Associate Editor. But it will look good on my résumé if I ever need to look for another editing gig.”
From what I’d gathered, she’d managed to talk the editor at the university press into giving her more hours with more pay. I slipped up behind Chelsea and laid a palm on her shoulder. “Does this mean you get to quit your other jobs?”
“Don’t have to. Ursula might have a buyer for the inn. And I left the news station.”
“I have some news as well,” Chelsea said. “For the last little while, my commission work has been steadily growing to the point I’m going to need to cut back on my hours at the coffee shop. I don’t want to quit in case I jinx it, but making lattes doesn’t pay enough to justify turning down art work.”
Elizabeth held up her now-empty glass. “Congrats to being one step closer to your diabolical scheme to abandon me and take your show on the road.”
I didn’t love the sound of that. “You never let me see what you’re working on. Show me something.”
She bit her lip, like she was afraid to share this side of herself, but I wanted to learn everything. She relented and fetched her laptop, setting it on the dining room table. “I’ve been working on this commission for a fantasy author.”
“Wow.” A hooded woman arched a flaming bow and arrow straight at us, blue-lit woods surrounding the figure. “That’s badass.”
“It’s not done yet,” she said, closing the lid, like we’d used up our allotted time.
“What’s it for?”
“Cover art for her book.” She went to put the laptop away.
Elizabeth said, “When I get published, I’m going to make Chelsea do my covers. I’ll get it put in the contract and everything.”
A knock at the door caught her attention, and she turned to let Evan in, shouting, “It’s snowing!”
