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“I’m a…a last-minute packer.” Or a reluctant packer who was still in denial about the trip.
“Oh, me too. But Lucy keeps asking me over and over if I’m ready.” A distant smile grew on her face as she slowly sat in the desk chair. “She really is so darn happy. They both are.”
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little rough from the thickness in his throat. But that was the truth of it—his brother really was happy. Ridiculously happy. And even if thinking about how he’d also been that happy once made the center of his chest ache a little, he was one-hundred percent happy his brother had found something thathenever had—someone to accept him for who he truly was.
“I should probably get going,” he said as he hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.
“Me too. I think I’ve been here long enough today.”
“I could walk you home, if you’d like.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I actually drove today because I had all the decorations to bring. So, I’m good. You be sure to get some ice on that nose of yours, okay? I’d hate for you to be all bruised up.”
Funny. She had no idea how bruised up he was on the inside. How much pain he’d endured for so long that a fist to the face hurt a heck of a lot less than what had happened to him several years ago.
And what about her? There was obviously something bothering her about the salon, but was it really his job to fix it? Maybe not. But as she gathered the papers and slipped out of the office, he noticed the photo of the chandelier flutter to the ground. And for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out, he picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.
Chapter
Three
“You’ve got this, Stella. I believe in you. You can do it.” Lucy’s voice on the phone was far too chipper. Far too high-pitched. Far toosomethingStella couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“What’s with all the cheerleader-y lines? Are you doing toe-jumps in your living room?”
Lucy laughed. “I assure you I’m not. But this was all my idea, to make popcorn balls and trail mix for the trip. I just feel bad that I’m leaving you to make treats without us.”
She didn’t sound like she felt bad at all. In fact, she sounded like she was working too hard to sell the reason she couldn’t be at Stella’s apartment tonight—that she was on a deadline to get this cover illustrated and off to the publishing company asap. Which somehow involved Eric, because suddenly, he wasn’t coming tonight either.
“It’s totally fine,” Stella assured her. “I’ve been shirking my duties as maid of honor, so this will be a nice way for me to make up for it.”
“Except, I’ve been the one who insisted on planning everything.”
“True.” She chuckled. “You have been a bit of a control freak.”
“Hey now!”
Stella suspected the reason her cousin had wanted to plan and take care of everything had something to do with the upcoming construction at the salon and the preparations that went along with it. She hadn’t wanted Lucy to have to call and reschedule all the appointments they’d had to cancel so that was the added cherry on top of her stress sundae. And speaking of sweet treats…
“Wait…you had all the supplies. Do you need me to come get them?”
“Nope,” Lucy said—and yep, she definitely heard a smile through the phone. “They should actually be on their way to you right now.”
The words had no sooner come out of Lucy’s mouth when there was a knock at her apartment door. “Oh. Did you have them sent over here or something?”
“Or something,” Lucy said, and now she could hear her smileandher brows waggling over the line. “Have fun.”
Stella looked down at her phone, her home screen staring back at her after Lucy had disconnected the call.That was weird.Setting her phone on the end table, she walked to the door, not at all expecting what—or who—she saw when she opened it.
“Nate?”
“That’s me,” he said, his deep voice a total one-eighty from Lucy’s mousy squeaking a minute ago. He held up reusable grocery bags filled to the brim with food and supplies. “And I think these are for you.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed, unable to look away from the massive amount of flannel in front of her. Stella was tall, but Nate was atleast six-foot-five, if she had to guess. “I was expecting these, just not from you.”
He took a step forward, and she half expected him to duck to enter her tiny apartment. His shoulder grazed hers as he stepped through the doorway, and he smelled like a sexy pine tree—you know, if pine trees were actually sexy. She’d never really stepped on a Christmas tree farm and thought the smell was particularly romantic, but something about the way the scent radiated off his body had her wanting to run to the nearest forest and chop down the first one she could find.
He stood in the apartment, which was a direct contrast to everything about him. It was tiny while he filled out the space. Where it was decorated with bright yellows and pinks, he stood out like a storm cloud in his dark flannel and nearly black jeans. “One of the joys of being Eric’s best man is also being his errand boy, apparently.”
