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“Bye Misery!” Junie says, waving wildly again.
“Wish us luck as we brave Main Street,” Patty jokes, winking at me before the two of them leave the store and head outside, disappearing into the crowd.
“I seriously love that she calls you that. I laugh almost every time.”
I nod. “I do, too.”
“So, how are things atyourshop?”
“Good. I actually have to get back, but I hope the rest of the day goes great,” I tell her, backing away and heading for the front door.
Her smile dips slightly before it reappears like nothing changed. “Thanks for coming to say hi.”
I wave then step out into the thrall, rubbing at the center of my chest as I walk the short distance to my own shop a few doors down. Patty was just being kind, inviting me, and Busy was just trying to protect my free time, assuring me I didn’t need to go.Still, hearing her imply that Junie’s birthday isn’t something I want to go to…it didn’t sit right.
I watch the clock for the rest of the afternoon, as the day ticks along and the store stays busy. At quarter to five, I flip the sign at the front, making the decision in the moment. Then I spend a few minutes letting the customers wandering around know we’ll be closing at five.
“We’re closing?” Heather asks, her eyebrows high on her head.
I nod. “Yeah. If you want the hours, you’re welcome to keep working. There’s some paperwork and inventory that needs to get done, and I know holiday pay isn’t something a lot of people want to miss out on, but…” I shrug. “I think it’s time to close for the day. Besides, I have somewhere I want to be.”
It might be ridiculous, closing several hours early for a two-year-old’s birthday party, but I don’t feel even the tiniest bit guilty. Even if it impacts the bottom line, I know I’m making the right choice.
Once the store is empty and Heather has taken off—gleeful about her suddenly free evening—I shut off the lights, lock up, and hustle home to grab the birthday gift I made for Junie last week. I planned to give it to her at some point this weekend, but this will be even better.
I do my best to ignore the voice that says I hope Busy likes it, too.
Even if itisthe truth.
Growing up, I was kind of peripheral friends with the eldest Mitchell kid, Boyd. Friends of friends, sometimes overlappinghangouts. Which is why after thirty-two years in this small town, I’ve only been over to their house once or twice.
So when I pull up out front a few minutes after six, parking in the grass next to the driveway alongside several other cars, I take a long minute to just…look at it. It’s massive, far larger than the three-bedroom I grew up in, though that makes sense when considering there had to be enough beds for seven people. There’s a four-car garage and a detached in-law unit, and I can see the lake stretched out behind it.
This. This is the kind of house I wanted as a kid.
I hoist Junie’s present out of the back seat and sling it over one arm then head to the gate on the side, figuring based on the music and laughter I can hear that everyone is out back. Once I push through, my guess is proven accurate when I spot the dozen or so people scattered around holding beers or hanging out near the barbeque. Junie is down at the dock, sitting between Patty’s legs, her feet dangling into the water.
My eyes scan over everyone until I finally spot Busy, emerging from the house with a bag of hot dog buns and crossing to where her dad is manning the grill. God, she’s gorgeous. Not for the first time, I watch her from afar, taking in her sweet smile and casual beauty. Everything about her is effortless.
Of course, it’s as I’m admiring her that her eyes find mine.
She freezes.
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious showing up unannounced, like maybe I overstepped somehow. There aren’t a ton of people here, and the ones whoarehave a very clear connection to the Mitchell family. I don’t really know how I fit into that. Or if I do at all, in truth.
But then she changes course, heading my way, hot dog buns still in her hands.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she approaches, a wrinkle in her brow, and from this distance, I can’t tell if she’s happy to see me or not.
I shrug. “Just wanted to make sure Junie got her present on her birthday.”
Busy’s eyes flick to where I have the wooden rocking horse under one arm. I set it down in the grass, the weight beginning to be too much to hold on my own any longer.
“If you want, I can just drop it off. I don’t have to stay.”
As if my words have tugged her out of a trance, she takes a few more steps forward and envelopes me in a hug, her arms wrapping around my middle and her face tucked against my chest.
I only delay for a second, having been caught by surprise, before I wrap my arms around her as well, reveling in the way it feels to finally have her petite frame tucked against mine. I could stand here all day, holding her like this, and the most natural thing in the world would be to dip my head and press my lips to the crown of her head, to inhale the sweet smell of whatever that jasmine stuff is that she wears.
