“Kind of. What’d ya say?”
He chuckles. “Hang out later?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe.”
“Might be good to download.”
“It could be,” I repeat, quieter now. “But let me see how I feel afterward, okay?”
Liam doesn’t say anything, only nods. He gets it.
“Next right,” I say. “There, with the green awning.”
Liam slows the car, glancing at the building as it comes into view. “You sure this is it?”
“I’m sure.”
He pulls up to the curb but doesn’t put the car in park right away.
“Do you want me to wait?” he asks.
“No.”
“Okay.” Another beat. "You've got a ride back?”
“I’ll call an Uber, but thank you.” I reach for the door handle. “It’s just an appointment.”
And I’m already out of the car before he can ask anything else.
CHAPTER 3
VIVIAN
There’s a specific kind of quiet that only exists right after you unlock a shop for the day. There’s the low sound of the lights warming overhead and the faint clink of metal as I shift a tray of rings into place. Some mornings, I can hear the hiss of the espresso maker in the coffee shop next door. It’s as if the store is stretching awake around me.
I flip the sign on the door toOPENand step back inside, letting it click shut behind me. The front windows catch the light just right this time of day, sending soft reflections across the glass cases that line the walls. Inside them, pieces sit on linen stands and velvet trays—gold catching the sun, silver glowing softer, gemstones tucked into place like they belong exactly where they are.
Nothing in here is mass-produced. Nothing rushed. Everything is designed, shaped, and finished either by my hands or my grandmother’s.
“Well,” my grandmother says from behind the counter, not looking up as she inspects a delicate chain through her glasses, “if you keep rearranging that display, it’s going to start charging you rent.”
I smile, setting the tray down anyway.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“You’re late.”
“I’m not late,” I say, slipping behind the counter. “I just wasn’t here when you expected me to be.”
She finally looks up at that, unimpressed. “You weren’t home when I left.”
“I didn’t see you either,” I shoot back. “Which is strange, considering I left pretty early.”
When I moved back in with my grandmother, it was supposed to be temporary. Practical. My engagement had just imploded, I needed somewhere to land, and she had fallen and needed some help, so it made sense.
What I didn’t realize was that I’d somehow become the responsible one in the house.
While she’s out with her cronies, running around town like she’s got a social calendar to defend, I’m the one making sure she gets home in one piece.
