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He eyes me warily. “You look like you’re in a good mood, while I haven’t slept a wink since Saturday.”
Unapologetic for my part in that, I offer him a shrug. “Big things are happening today.”
He glances around the store. “Good things?”
I shrug again. “Don’t know yet.”
Reaching out, he catches my hand. “Warren, we need to talk.”
Some of my calm fizzles, but I push through it. “Not now. Come back after we close.”
He hesitates for a moment before he nods. “Okay. Would you like to get dinner or something?”
I shake my head. “No, you can come back to my place. We can order Chinese delivery. You still like moo shu pork, right?”
A smile tugs at his lips. “You remember?”
“How can I forget? You were an asshole and always ate all the pancakes.” My jab lacks its usual sting, and Roman’s smile widens.
“At least you’re forewarned.” Reluctantly, he lets me go. “I won’t take any more of your time. I’ll come by at seven tonight?”
Nodding, I walk back to the counter.
Roman leaves at nine on the dot, and over the rest of the day, the calm bubble that surrounds me slowly dissolves. The new owner never comes in, and I double-check the letter to make sure I didn’t mix up the date.
As I walk Mia out after closing, uncertainty fills me. I thought I’d close up tonight with a firmer idea of what my future would hold, and not knowing leaves me unsteady. Not a feeling I enjoy as I search the line of parked cars for Roman. I don’t even know what he drives. Probably something fast and flashy.
“Warren!” a voice calls, and I turn to see Roman jogging down the street toward me. “Sorry, I’m late. The bus was running behind schedule.”
My brows lift. “You use the bus?”
Grinning, he stops next to me. “It gives me time to read.”
“Huh.” I turn toward my apartment, and he falls into step beside me.
“Did you want me to drive? I’ll call a taxi.” He pulls out his phone, but I push it back toward his pocket.
“I live nearby. We can pick up the food on the way, if you don’t mind?” The Chinese restaurant takes forty minutes to deliver or ten minutes to pick up.
“Sounds good.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, and the air between us turns awkward before he ventures, “Did you have a good day at work?”
“We were busy,” I say shortly, then wince. The response didn’t exactly invite further questions, but we’ve never done this before, and I’ve never been good with small talk.
He doesn’t respond, and we walk in silence for a block before my good manners kick in. “Did you have a good day at work?”
“It was busy.” He looks out at the passing cars and lets out a sigh. “This is harder than I thought it would be. What did we use to talk about all the time?”
I frown. “We didn’t.”
He turns back to me with a frown of his own. “Yes, we did. We were always talking.”
“We were always antagonizing each other,” I clarify.
Roman searches my face and sighs again. “Well, I was talking.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight?” I demand.
His brows lift. “Are you?”
