“Oh my God, you scared me!” Cassidy cried, reaching out with the end of her scarf to dab at his face.
Liam cautiously tasted the corner of his lip. “That’s not chocolate.”
“No, it’s paint. I was trying to touch up the window, but everything keeps freezing.” She sneezed and sniffled again.
That’s when he really looked at her. She had dark circles under her eyes, her hands were red from the cold, and she couldn’t stop coughing. She was clearly getting sick.
He caught her hands gently, stopping her attempts to clean him up. “Have you been out here all day?”
“Pretty much, whenever I had a customer break,” she admitted. “There’s just so much work left and not enough time. I don’t know how you’re managing it all.”
“Leave the window. Come inside,” he said firmly.
“But if I don’t finish?—”
“You’ll finish it tomorrow,” Liam cut in.
There was no room for argument.
“You’re doing too much,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Cassidy gave a weak smile.
He guided her firmly through her shop, toward the back, and up the staircase.
Muff greeted them with a bark and a tail wag when she opened the door.
“Hey, girl, you need to go out?” he asked the pup.
“You don’t have to. I can go back down—” Cassidy started to say.
“It’s alright. Just let me wash this paint off my face, and I’ll take care of her,” he insisted.
“The bathroom is the first door on your right,” she said, clearly not having the energy to argue, for once.
Cassidy’s apartment was a small, one-bedroom, one-bath flat. A galley kitchen and living room took up the main living space, with a bathroom and bedroom down a short hall.
Liam made quick work of washing up. Cassidy’s bathroom was like the rest of her apartment. It wasn’t designer chic; it was more homestead Christmas.
Her bathroom had little green Christmas tree soaps in a white porcelain soap dish, hand-painted with festive green holly. He didn’t want to use her good soap or dry his face on her good holiday towels, but that was all she had.
Out in the living room, she had a four-foot pink tinsel tree in the corner. Liam knew that if she’d had the room, the tree would have been ten feet tall. As it was, the tree was filled with mismatched, homemade ornaments. He didn’t linger; he only had a moment while Cassidy fetched Muff’s leash, but in that brief minute, he saw crocheted cocoa mugs, a painted gingerbread man, and cinnamon dough stars.
The couch was draped in a bright blue knit blanket with palm-sized white snowflakes added to the squares and white faux fur throw pillows. A felt Advent calendar hung on the wall. It was the kind with a wooden Christmas tree that you moved daily from pocket to pocket.
Cassidy’s voice croaked as she reappeared, leash in hand, a box of tissues tucked under her arm. “I might’ve gone a little overboard with the decorations this year. It was the first time I’d been able to unbox them for a few years,” she apologized before punctuating the sentence with a sneeze so sharp it startled Muff, who gave a tiny bark in response.
He wanted to say something about how unfair that was, how she should’ve been able to decorate her Parisian apartment however she wanted, but he didn’t because Muff was jumping up and down, prancing around the living room like she needed to go out,now!
So, he clipped on the pup’s leash and promised Cassidy they’d be back in a few minutes.
Liam dialed Zach’s mom, Anita, who lived nearby, on his way down the stairs.
“Liam, what’s up?” she asked when their lines connected.
“Cassidy’s sick. I was hoping you still had some of that chicken noodle soup of yours?”
“I have plenty. Some fresh bread too. I’ll meet you at the front door in fifteen minutes.”
