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Even if I did try to talk around the AJ bits, Cody would absolutely recognize and poke at all the plot holes until we both fell into the emotional sinkhole that was everything that’d happened last December. And ever since.
“Sorry, friend. Part of the mystique of the sweater is that I bear the burden of its secrets. Its origin story included.”
“All right, then, Cher. Keep your secrets.”
I know that bouffant.
Years of instinct kicked in and I threw my gardening gloves to the floor and jumped behind the magnolia tree that I’d been planting gorgeous autumn-colored annuals around for the last hour.
Jeanne, the head of all things green and growing at Fortuna—and someone I tended to barnacle onto—shot me a questioning look, cocking one of her dark eyebrows in exasperation. I waved my now glove-free hands in her direction to shush her, though why I’d abandoned them was a mystery even to my own mind. I lifted my eyebrows and served her a side of crazy eyes when she still looked ready to interrogate me. After another second of silent eyebrow communication, she relented but rolled her eyes to make her feelings known before returning to her work.
I didn’t miss the way she muttered under her breath, but I still sighed a breath of relief and pressed myself flush against the bark as Grandmother slowly strolled past. I peered around the tree and watched as she made her way toward the hotel side of Fortuna, which was weird—unless she was planning on going shopping in one of the many boutique stores that lined the corridor.
But no, she walked right past the luxury jeweler, the gaudy accessory store, and every other boutique and went straight for the hotel elevators.
I let out a relieved breath. If I had glimpsed—sensed— her even a moment later, it would’ve been too late. I had been too caught up chatting with Jeanne, letting my guard down for too long.
“If you’re done trampling all over the work we’ve done today, you could come out and help me clean up.”
Alarmed, I looked down at my feet, but my previously tense shoulders slumped in relief when I saw that I was standing on the pine bark mulch. I would’ve felt awful if I’d harmed any of the flowers or undone any of the morning’s labor.
Jeanne’s gardening crew absolutely did not have to tolerate me butting into their work. The stress-relieving qualities of working with my hands were enough reward on their own, but peppering Jeanne—who happened to be the head honcho and an absolute wealth of knowledge about all things that grew—with gardening questions made it feel like I should be paying her for our time together.
“Jeanne…,” I began as I reached out a hand and helped her stand. She was at the end of her second trimester and a little unsteady on her feet. “If I volunteer to finish up here so you can take off for the day, will that help you forget that you saw… what you saw?” I lovingly patted the magnificent magnolia who had aided me. Her name was Margaret—all the larger lobby trees had names—and she was a perfect shield.
Jeanne eyed all the tools that needed moving back to the maintenance truck with uncertainty, so I baited her. “Isn’t Jaxon’s baseball game today? You did mention needing to get home to prepare snacks for the team. And shouldn’t you be taking it easier now?” I pointedly dropped my gaze to her baby bump, but the look that flashed across her face indicated I’d overstepped the mark.
“I know what you’re doing, Miss Lady, but I’ll allow it. I do need to go buy and cut roughly four million oranges for those hellions.” The glare she’d leveled at me morphed into one of dread as she looked past my shoulder at the exit. She shook herself out of it after a moment and, like a normal human being, calmly removed her gloves and put them away with a huff. “I’ll ignore the reference to my body and accept your offer.” She bent down to get the kneeling pad as I wrestled the urge to help and handed it to me before checking her phone. “It’s only 10:00 a.m. Do you have any plans for the rest of your Saturday morning?”
“Not really, except—” I gestured down the hallway toward Caffeina with longing, almost tasting the caffeinated beverage and tiramisu that awaited me, then finished. “—once I’m all done here, I’m going to treat myself to a coffee and a sweet.”
A beat of silence passed before she asked, “And tonight?”
That drew me up short. It was about as close to a personal question as she’d ever asked. Though, to be fair, the nature of the work and my constant questions rarely left room for any.
Jeanne was more than a decade older than me and had a whole life outside of here. She had a large family—three sons and another on the way, a husband on disability—and managed it all while also maintaining a full-time job directing a crew of fifty gardeners and one volunteer hanger-on.
She did not need my feelings added to her already overfilled plate.
“Yeah, you know,” I answered casually. “The usual.”
“The usual,” Jeanne repeated, her tone flat.
I pointedly avoided her fully-loaded mom-energy gaze, because yeah. I knew. And she knew.
Everyone knew.
My usual wasn’t usual.
It was the first Saturday of the month. A headliner night. It was also the 7th of October, meaning the crowds would be bigger, as they always were on “lucky number” dates. Fortuna management regularly capitalized on superstitions by scheduling extra slot tournaments and extended appearances of Lady Luck.
I’d mostly avoided them for months, but after my recent reappearance, I couldn’t easily go back into hiding.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to, either.
I offered her a small smile and leaned in for a one-armed goodbye hug, which was the only way to not be too awkward with the bump.
The least awkward way would probably be to just skip the hug, but I wanted it.
