I close my eyes and lean into the warmth of him, needing every inch of closeness. He holds on to me and the night holds both of us.
"Okay?" he asks against the top of my head.
"Okay," I whisper back.
Then I take his hand and we go inside, back to ourfriends and family, back to the warmth and the noise and the people who love us. And for tonight, that's enough.
25
LILY
The morning in the shop is all mine, and I need it. I'm tired in that bone-deep way that comes from being up past midnight with someone you can't stop touching, even when you know you should.
Callahan left me at my doorway close to one, both of us whispering goodbyes like teenagers while I checked the street for witnesses and he chuckled against my hair.
Sneaking around is getting harder. We've been doing it for months now and somehow it's not getting easier, not becoming routine, not settling into something manageable the way I kept telling myself it would.
I'd hoped we would have gotten this obsession with each other under control by now. I told him that last week, sitting cross-legged on my bed while he played with my hair.
”Trouble," he said as he pulled me back to bed with him, "it's going the opposite direction and you know it."
He wasn't wrong. If anything, each stolen hour has usgreedier for the next one. Every time I tell myself this will level out, that the wanting will settle into something sustainable, my whole body calls me a liar.
Erin's text came through at seven-thirty, right as I was unlocking the front door.
Erin
Running late. Don't judge me.
Followed immediately by a second one.
Erin
Okay, judge me a little. Worth it.
That tells me everything about how her evening with Rome had gone, which was disturbing. I turn on the lights, start the water for the buckets. The shop has its own rhythm in these early hours, before anyone comes in, before Ruth shows up for her daily visit.
Just me and the flowers and the morning light coming through the big front window, golden. I like this version of the day. The one where I haven't talked to anyone yet, where the only thing that needs me is a bucket of peonies that opened overnight, their petals unfurling like they couldn't wait for me to see them.
Ruth arrives on the clock, as always, with coffees and a pastry bag and a look on her face that says she has information and fully intends to use it. Also as always.
"Morning, gorgeous." She sets everything on the counter and hoists herself onto the stool that might as well have her name carved into it, settling in like she's preparing to hold court. "You look rested."
"Good make-up."
"Mm." She tears open the bakery bag and pulls out a blueberry muffin, handing me one.
"So. Cherry was at the diner yesterday."
I pick up my coffee and take a sip. Ruth watches me with patience. She has planted seeds and extracted confessions from people for longer than I've been alive.
"She was telling anyone who would listen that Cal Holt took her to some dinner thing in Bridgeport last week," Ruth continues, biting into her muffin casual as anything. "Said they've been seeing each other on and off. Quietly, you know. Because he's so private."
I set my coffee down. There's a flicker of anger, hot and immediate, and I have to work to keep it off my face.
"That is a lie."
Ruth chews. Watches me.
