“Back in Chicago. My dad owns a hardware store and my mom does the books. Simple and it works for them.”
I smile at that. “That sounds solid.”
“It is,” she says, a little fondly.
“Just a couple of people showing up and building a life together.”
“People who choose each other every day.” She hums thoughtfully and takes another bite, then looks up at me like something’s just occurred to her. The way she does when she’s piecing things together.
“You are not what I thought you’d be, Sawyer,” she says. “You’re someone who is way more than they appear to be on the outside.”
The words land warmer than I’d expect. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She nods once, decisive. “You don’t feel as temporary as you come across.”
I can feel my face scrunch up as I’m caught off guard, but I recover with a grin. “That your professional opinion, or are you offering me a character reference?”
Her mouth curves. “Observational.”
“Well,” I say lightly, “for the record, I come with quirks.”
She arches a brow. “I run a plant shop. Quirks are my brand.”
I laugh. “Fair point.” I pause, then add, more honestly than planned, “I like what you said about people choosing each otherevery day. About making it work. Choosing each other even when it’s inconvenient.”
Her gaze holds mine a second longer than necessary. “That’s the part that matters.”
I tilt my head. “So. Hypothetically.”
She smiles like she already knows where this is going. “Of course.”
“If someone wanted that kind of partnership,” I say, “what do you think the non-negotiables are?”
“If they wanted a relationship partnership?”
I nod, but she doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she studies me, open and thoughtful. “Trust,” she says finally. “Consistency. And knowing when something’s worth the effort.”
I nod. “Strong list.”
“And,” she adds, a glint of humor returning, “good Thai food.”
I grin. “Obviously.”
We both laugh, the tension easing into something lighter, warmer. But underneath it, something else hums. Something neither of us names, but both of us feel.
This isn’t just dinner anymore.
And it definitely isn’t just about the workshop.
CHAPTER 14
JULIETTE
Ilock the front door of Leaf & Letter and flip the sign toCLOSED, even though I’ve checked it twice already. Possibly three times. I tell myself I’m just being thorough. Responsible. A business owner who does not leave things to chance.
I set my workshop clipboard on the counter and stare at it like it’s about to confess something. The list is neat. Bullet-pointed. Highlighted in two colors, because apparently, I’m a person who owns two highlighters now.
– Soil bins filled
