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“I’m here to give you a ride. You shouldn’t be driving around in the snow in your car.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being sweet or a dick again,” I say as I narrow my eyes and study him.
“Hartley. I can’t have you getting in an accident and not holding up your end of the deal.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. Thanks for thinking of me,” I say sarcastically over my shoulder as I head toward my bedroom.
“It’s no big deal.”
I glare at him, nodding once before I disappear into my room . I leave the door cracked an inch as I head over to my closet and pull out a plaid long sleeve shirt. I grab a pair of skinny jeans from my dresser and hurry to get dressed.
“Speaking of sweet!” I call when I remember his call yesterday.
“What? Who was talking about sweet?”
“I called you sweet like thirty seconds ago. Pay attention,” I say with a laugh as I hop around, pulling on my jeans.
“Right, sorry. Go on,” he says with a chuckle.
“You called me sweets yesterday. Twice. Is that my pet name?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It just slipped out.”
I can’t see his face but he sounds almost embarrassed and I feel bad for bringing it up.
“No! It’s okay. I… liked it,” I admit.
“Good,” he whispers close to the door.
I tug on my shirt and check my reflection in the mirror once more. My face is flushed from running around the room getting dressed, I assure myself. My eyes look bright and when I look into them. I look happy. I look like a girl excited to go on a date with a guy.
That’s not what this is, I remind myself, giving myself a shake to clear my head.
My eyes snag on the picture of grams and I tucked into the frame of the dresser mirror.
I’m caught off guard by my grief.
I’ve been so wrapped up in getting the bakery ready and then getting ready for my week as Eli’s girlfriend, that I’ve barely thought about anything else. She creeps in every now and then though.
When I was picking out paint colors, I could hear her voice in my head, cracking jokes about an orange color that I had briefly considered. She always hated the color orange and I knew that I never would have heard the end of it if I had painted any part of our bakery orange. I heard her in my head when I ordered the mixers and when I picked out the light fixtures.
I also heard her when I first ran into Eli. She would have said something inappropriate when we first met if she had been here. She would be encouraging me to go out with him, for real, to see if what we have is real. And if it wasn’t real, she would still be encouraging me to sleep with him.
I smile at that thought.
“You okay in there?” Eli asks and I clear my throat.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face and stepping back into the living room.
“Hey,” Eli says softly when I try to brush past him. “Are you alright?”
My throat burns as I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“You don’t have to be nervous or scared. They’re harmless. Well, my mom is energetic, but she’s going to love you,” he says softly, like he’s afraid I’m about to burst into tears.
“It’s not that. I was just thinking about my grams. I don’t have any family left. Who am I going to bring you home to meet?”
I didn’t even know that I was thinking about that. About bringing someone home, or not being able to bring someone home rather.
