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“New Year’s,” I suggest. “It’s after the holidays. We’ll both get what we want out of this, then go our separate ways.”
“Separate ways as fake romantic partners,” Lacey says. “Our friendship is non-negotiable.”
“Would you miss me, Daniels?” I joke.
She turns her head, and our gazes meet. There’s apprehension behind her eyes, the courage she fostered when she waltzed in here in a slow demise. Her chin dips, and her eyelashes flutter closed, then open.
“Yes,” she says, so soft I almost miss it. “I would.”
The three words lodge themselves in my chest. Nestle right against my heart in a spot I want to protect and keep safe. It’s an ache, almost. A bruise that won’t go away.
“You’re never going to get rid of me, Lace,” I say. “We’re friends for the long haul.”
Lacey lets out a breath, and her smile is tentative, hesitant. I find myself wondering how I could make her grin again. “Good.” She checks the silver watch clasped around her wrist and stands. “I should get going.”
I rise to my feet. “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving, right?”
“Right. I’m bringing pumpkin pie.”
“God.” I groan in anticipation of the homemade dessert she bakes for the holiday. She brought one last year, and I licked the crumbs clean off my plate. The dollop of whipped cream, too. “I’m going to gain ten pounds.”
“Wouldn’t kill you.” She holds out her hand and wiggles her fingers. “Pleasure doing business with you, Holmes.”
“And you,” I say.
Her palm is dwarfed by my massive hand, and we shake our arms up and down until a laugh bursts out of her and she pulls away, untangling our limbs and walking backward to the door.
“We’ll talk more soon?” she asks.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” I promise.
“Looking forward to it.”
“If there are any reporters still lingering around, Arthur will keep you inside until you can grab a car home.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Lacey asks. “I’m going to tell them we had raunchy sex and give them all the salacious details. Food was involved. Balloon animals, too.”
“Balloon animals? What the hell would you do with balloon animals?” I ask.
Her smirk is infectious, lightning to my system. “I don’t know, Shawn. You’re a smart guy. Be creative,” she says, and I hear her cackling all the way down the hall.
TEN
LACEY
I walkinto pandemonium on Thanksgiving.
Chester, Maggie and Aiden’s tabby cat from the rescue shelter in town, darts between my legs. Maven scoots past me on the skateboard she got for Christmas last year and waves hello. I spy Maggie in the kitchen, clutching a wine glass in her hand like her life depends on it. Her cheeks are pale and her eyes are wide. She mouths something to me, but I can’t understand what she’s trying to say.
Her parents and Aiden’s parents are meeting for the first time today to celebrate Thanksgiving with their children. The older couples crowd around a charcuterie board decorated with jam and crackers and artisanal cheeses, and it seems like everything is going well.
I shut the door to the apartment with the heel of my boot. I revel in the laughter, in the conversation and warmth welcoming me as I walk inside. I might not be home with my family for the holiday, but this is as good as it gets.
“Hey.” Shawn slides up next to me. He bends down and kisses my cheek, his hand on my hip and his cologne tickling my nose. I smell a mix of spice and sweet, and I smile at the familiar scent.
“Hi. Happy Thanksgiving.” I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek in return. “Am I late?”
“No. Maggie and Aiden did two airport runs this morning at the crack of dawn.” He takes a step back and eyes my leather skirt and the tights on my legs. “You look nice.”
