Page 18 of Every Little Thing


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Emberlynn scratched her head. “Yeah… she said she wanted it for the spicy kick.”

“Jesus. I thought I was exaggerating. Eight thirty-two.”

She handed over her card, and I swiped it through, tossing the receipt. “Thanks,” she said.

“So,” I said. “Why the look?”

“God dammit.” She hung her head. “Ugh. I’m just up in my own head again. The exact same way as before. Over the exact same situation as before. Why am I such a fucking idiot?”

I sighed. “Well… in my humble view, if we don’t make fucking idiots of ourselves from time to time, we’re not growing.”

“Ugh. I guess. I do believe that. Just… how do I put myself in the exact same position and expect something else?”

“You don’t expect something else, you expect yourself to be able to handle it differently from last time. And you will. You’re better at pushing through the self-doubt now and making something with your own signature style regardless of the pressure. Want me to listen to what you’ve been working on?”

“No, I just want you to take away all of the problems forever. But in lieu of that, maybe. Do you want to come join us for… spicy dinner?”

Joining Paisley for anything right now was a no-go. I’d have to wait a while before I was ready to see her again. “I can’t do dinner, but I could swing by after I close here and we could grab lunch together?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Aria’s got calls at lunchtime, so we can go for noodles and I’ll bring back her favorite as takeaway for once she’s done?”

I laughed drily, shaking my head. “You two are sickeningly sweet. I love it. Yeah, that works. I’ll text you once I’m done with closing.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Harps. As always. I’d be useless without you.”

That was really not what I wanted to hear right now. What I needed was people lining up to tell me how I contributed nothing and they didn’t want me here.

After Anders came in and got the carrot mini-cupcake for Nancy, and once we’d chatted for a bit about what he and Nancy had missed at the party, I settled into the easy, comfortable lull that always came down over the shop around the time Anders left. I cleaned the floors, restocked the shelves, and I was in the middle of working through the evening batch of breads when the doorbell rang. I finished quickly with scoring the breads and shoved them in the walk-in oven, and I washed my hands before I stepped out to the front and fumbled over my own feet at thesight of Paisley there on the other side of the counter, a pink-wrapped gift box in her hands.

“Pais?” I said. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to trade something else for a cake today.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Nah. I mooched one of Emby’s leftover cupcakes this morning. You really nailed it with the lemon.” She set the package down, sliding it across the counter to me. It wasn’t… the best-wrapped package in the world, a little crumpled in the corners and held together with too much tape. And by a little crumpled I meant a lot. But it was a cute, soft shade of pink with a thin green ribbon, and a note tied to the ribbon readFor Harper—I’m sorry for saying I hate you.I got a lump in my throat as I took the box, my heart beating fast. Paisley was the only one who’d ever gotten me to admit pink was my favorite color.

“You got me a present?” I said, finally. “Is it a bomb?”

“Nope, just ten thousand cockroaches.”

“Coming from you, I can’t be sure if that’s true or not…”

She waved me off. “Oh my god, you dumbass, just open it. It’s not actually bombs or cockroaches. It’s a going-away gift.”

Suddenly I wanted nothing to do with the gift. It hurt like a knife to the chest, and I prayed she didn’t notice the way my hands clenched tighter on the box.

“I don’t want you leaving without at least knowing first that you’re loved by—”

“I can’t accept it,” I sighed. Paisley looked like I’d just murdered her baby in front of her.

“What?Oh my god. You can’tnot accepta gift from Paisley Macleod. Look how pretty I am today!”

She looked the exact same as always. In fact—she was wearing the same sweater as last night. Or maybe she had multiples of it.

Still, I sighed, setting the box down.

“I don’t need pity and sweet gestures and a bunch of people coming around telling meoh we’re going to miss you so much.That’s why I was too afraid to tell people. I can’t… I’m not going to play this game.”

Paisley scowled. I pushed the box into her hands, and wordlessly, she turned on her feet, storming back towards the door. My stomach churned with a sick sensation, regretting it instantly, but she stopped at the door, and—I blinked fast when she locked it, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and turned off the lights. Marching back towards me with grim perseverance, she held out the box.

“Try again,” she said.

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