“Specifically, his arms?”
I glared. “Why are you like this?”
“Because it’s fun,” she said sweetly, looping an L on one of the name tags she was making. “Also, because it’s written all over your face. You get this look, you know. Like you just remembered every bad decision you ever made and want to repeat them all at once.”
“That’s absurd,” I said, even though I could still feel my cheeks burning. “I’m just… tired. And the lighting here is bad. And I—what are you even doing?”
“Writing name tags for the staff of the Pancake Breakfast,” she said, not missing a beat. “We need them for tomorrow.”
“The what?”
She looked up, scandalized. “The Reckless River Holiday Pancake Breakfast. It’s the event of the season!”
I blinked. “You people get this excited about pancakes?”
“Pancakes, Santa, and syrup,” she said, counting on her fingers. “What more do you need?”
“Therapy?”
She ignored me. “You’re helping, by the way.”
“I’m not.”
“You are now,” she said, sliding me a sheet of stickers and a pen. “Pick a festive font.”
I groaned. “You’ve turned into one of them, you know that? You’rehappy.”
“Tragic, isn’t it?”
Her smile was so annoyingly content that I couldn’t even be mad. Not really. Because for all my teasing, seeing Lydia this blissful made something in me ache.
I missed believing in simple things like pancakes and love and not constantly second-guessing everything.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Pass me the glitter tape.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I scrawledRiley Barista Extraordinaireon a tag, mostly to annoy her. She was the local barista and coffee shop owner down the street.
Lydia laughed. “See? You’re practically festive.”
“Practically deranged,” I corrected.
“Potato, potahto.”
Before I could respond, a shadow fell over the table. I looked up.
Drew.
He was holding a shot glass, the peppermint schnapps gleaming like liquid candy cane.
“Delivery,” he said, setting it down in front of me.
I frowned. “I didn’t order this.”
Lydia raised her hand. “I did.”
Of course she did.
