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“Cass? Iknow. Like, you see me as the same person I was when we were seventeen, and I get it, because it feels super weird that you have your own house like an actual grown up. But we are. Grown-ups, I mean. No, I mean adults, because only kids say ‘grown-ups.’ But we are. Adults. Both of us.”
“I guess we are,” he said. “It’s just an adjustment, that’s all.”
“Yeah. In my mind you still wear skinny jeans and have terrible taste in music.”
He gave me a look. “Are you still holding on to what I said about Good Charlotte that time?”
“They werenotoverrated, Cass. Their songs spoke to me.”
“So where are they now?” he asked smugly.
“I... I don’t know. Are they still making albums and touring? They might be. Theyshouldbe.I’mout of the loop, not them. The last album I downloaded wasEncanto. Which is excellent, by the way.” I paused. “Actually, no, the last one was the soundtrack from the Pony Pals Christmas movie. Which is an abomination.”
“I’ll bet it is.”
I tried to take the cloth from him.
“Nah, I’ll start cleaning up if you want to take a look at all that.” He nodded at the stack of papers by his laptop, so I went and took a seat at the table and dug through until I found the information for the grant application. Cass swiped the damp cloth over the flour-dusted counter. “Know how I know we’re really grown-ups?” he asked. “I mean, adults?”
“Is it the Christmas aprons?”
“Well, that, obviously. But I was going to say because I’m finally going to Mon Ami.” He said it shyly, like he was trying to make it a joke when it wasn’t, not to him. My entire soul went warm.
“Grown-up to the max,” I agreed.
“What time did you make the reservation for?”
The reservation. Fuck.
Seven,Liar Bob whispered to me.
“Seven,” I lied automatically. I’d make it as soon as I got home.
“I can’t believe you were able to get one this close to Christmas.”
“Must be fate.” The warm feeling was fading from my soul, and I didn’t want that. “Seven o’clock, so plenty of time for ice skating afterward.”
He snorted. “Better not. We don’t need anyone breaking an ankle before Christmas.”
“Definitely not.” Was he saying that because ice skating would make it too much like a date? The date he wanted with ‘the perfect guy?’ Bold of me to imagine, even for a moment, that I could be that guy. I literally had butter on the snap of my jeans.
I tried to focus on the papers, but guilt kept pecking at me. I’d call Mon Ami as soon as I got home, I assured myself again. I’d call them in the car.
Cass used his thumbnail to scratch a smear of dried dough off the counter. “What sort of nonprofit did you work for?”
“It was for a foundation that assisted newly-arrived refugees,” I said. “With stuff like housing, figuring out school enrollments, medical appointments, and accessing benefits. Even how to write a check. It was really great work.”
“Wow.”
“I mean, it’s the volunteers who did all the important work with our clients. I just helped keep the office running. But yeah, I learned fast how to write grant applications.” I flicked through his stack of paperwork. “Oh, so you’re looking at opening up right near Elfwood?”
“Is that a problem?” he asked worriedly.
“No, it’s actually a great location. You’d get to snag all Elfwood’s customers too, if you’re on the same street. Actually, you should ask Katya what her customer traffic is like. That’d give you a good round figure.”
“I worry she thinks I’m trying to steal her customers.”
“Why would she think that? Elfwood doesn’t have a petting zoo. This would actually give you guys a chance to cross promote. You’d send your customers her way, and she’d send her customers your way. It’s win-win, Cass.”
