And three days, but who’s counting—
“And three days,” he tacks on.
“You could have called.”
“Probably.” He breathes the word into my hair while holding me so tightly that my feet are just grazing the ground. I’m like a rag doll in his arms.
“You okay?”
“Sloane dumped me.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I squeeze him tighter. And even though this might be verging on the longest hug we’ve shared, it’s not awkward. Nothing ever is between us. Three summers ago, hewatched me puke my guts out when I got the stomach flu and he brought over some soup. Then we traded places the following day. Nothing is sacred anymore. We’ve been friends for far too long to let a long hug make us uncomfortable. I mean, he was there for me when all that shit went down in high school and he’s never left. I think I can give the guy a consoling embrace. I’ll just ignore the heat building inside of me due to the jacket I’m still wearing.
“When did that happen?”
“About five weeks ago.”
Damn. Usually he shares everything with me, he’s a bit of an oversharer in fact, so this is a shock. But now I get the whole MIA for five weeks thing.
His nose is in my hair, inhaling, tickling against my skin. I have to suppress an inappropriately timed giggle. He misinterprets my squirming and lets me go. That, or he’s had enough of the long hug.
“I know I just asked this, but are you okay? You sure you want to go to a Halloween party tonight?”
“I want to go. I gotta get out of the house for a bit.”
“But carving first?”
“Yes.”
“I gotta ask you a question, by the way. Do you think it’d be weird if I talked to Jessa about managing her shop tonight?” I’m half asking for his opinion and half asking for validation.
“You mean for when the baby comes?”
“Ya. I know she’s got Summer helping her out at Bloom and Blossom right now, but I’d like to do it more long term for her if she’s open to it. If you think she’d want me to do it.”
“Anyone would want you to do it.”
That was a weird way to put it. And why did that make my insides twist a little?
“You think I’d make a good manager for her?”
“You’ve been managing stuff at The Hoppy Badger for a while now, so why wouldn’t she want you?”
I give him an eye. “C’mon, Zander. Working at the bar and working at her respected plant shop have very different vibes.”
“Working at the bar is respectable.”
Sometimes I think this man lives on The Andy Griffith Show, which I loved watching as a kid with my grandmother.
“Why do you want the change?” There’s a bit of clanging as he sets up some knives and bowls on the island for us to do our carving.
“I just don’t see the bar being long term for me. I need something new. Something I can sink my teeth into. Ya know?”
The clanging ceases for a brief interlude. His eyes are glued to one of the pumpkins, almost as if my answer gave him pause. I’m running back my words but don’t hear anything weird in them. I must be reading him wrong tonight. It has been five weeks. And three days.
“I can see me helping Jessa grow the plant store—pun intended.” He smirks at my laugh joke like he always does. “Maybe I’ll even add some of the sassy stickers Amber and I have been working on as merch for her to sell.” I really hope he doesn’t hate my idea. I don’t want to ruin anything for Jessa and her store. Maybe it’s a terrible idea. Jessa is such a good girl, why would she want me managing her store?
His warm eyes glance up and find me. We’re on the same side of the island now, standing a foot apart. With a small smile curling up his lips, he says, “That’s a great idea.”
