The bell above the door jingles again.
“Give me one second,” I call, adjusting the angle of the clasp, my focus still locked in place.
There’s a pause, just long enough to register that whoever walked in hasn’t said anything yet.
Then, “Wow,” a familiar voice says, easy and curious. “You weren’t kidding about this place. It is gorgeous.”
That gets my attention. I glance up—and freeze.
Emma, the bride I’ve been expecting, stands just inside the door and waves at me, all smiles and sunshine. However, it’s her companion that pulls the rug out from under me.
I know those lips.
Ty’s right behind her and taking in the shop like he’s cataloging every detail. For a second, my brain tries to catch up to what I’m seeing, and then it immediately veers off in the wrong direction.
Wait. Emma is here for wedding rings. Emma brought Ty. Ty is standing in my shop.
Oh my God.
No. No, no, no.
I don’t remember Emma ever saying who the rings were for, but surely,surely—I would have known if it was him. That feels like something I would have remembered. Which means…
Did I kiss my client’s fiancé?
My stomach drops somewhere near my workbench. There is no version of this where that’s acceptable. None.
I straighten slowly, very aware of both of them watching me now, and paste on a smile that feels about as stable as a house built on sand.
“Hi,” I say, like this is normal. Like everything is fine. So fine.
“Hey,” Emma says, warm and easy as ever. “It’s so good to see you again, Vivian. Ty, this is?—”
“We’ve already met,” he says, cutting her off. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. Not even a little.
“Right,” I say quickly, nodding like this is all completely casual. “Yes. We’ve met. We know a lot of the same people.”
“And you kissed me the other morning,” he adds.
Emma chokes. Actually chokes, but I one-up her when my jaw smacks the floor.
“What?” she coughs, looking between us like she’s just been dropped into the middle of a conversation she did not consent to, much like Ty and my great big kiss.
I keep my smile in place through sheer force of will. “You know…sometimes there’s an emergency, and things happen.”
“Do they?” Emma asks, eyes wide.
Ty glances at her, completely unbothered. How can he be so relaxed? “Apparently, if you stand still long enough outside your building, you become part of someone else’s emergency exit plan.”
I exhale, just barely. “In my defense, it was a very specific situation.”
“I gathered.”
Emma looks between us again, still trying to piece it together. “I’m sorry—what situation involves that as a solution?”
I hold up my hands, wanting nothing more than for a hole to open up and suck me into it. My grandmother is going to kill me. This is more than a scandal; this is gossip-column-worthy material, folks.
I do what I need to do as a business owner, and I slip into grovel mode.
