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“It is,” she nodded sagely, “it’s a creative way to help her community. The kids and her starving artist friends. I offloaded some of my paints.”
“I bet that felt good,” I said, and she smiled up at me. “Did you sign up to be a patron?”
“You know me and subscriptions, Liam. You want to give me your credit card?”
I smiled and shook my head, but I would. “Can you make sure she doesn’t leave for like fifteen minutes?”
“Sure, baby.” She squeezed my arm as I turned.
I caught Christian’s eye and nodded toward the door. He knew where I was headed and looked back over his shoulder to get eyes on Louisa.
I checked my watch. Tight, but doable.
The cold hit my lungs as soon as I stepped outside. I scanned my truckbed—a nervous habit Louisa had so kindly gifted me—and ran my hands over the tarp, tugging it tighter around the corners. The wood underneath was smooth where I’d sanded it down, familiar under my palms. Heavier than it looked.
I’d measured the doorway at the studio twice. Still, I muttered a prayer that it would fit.
I took the fastest route I knew, knuckles white on the steering wheel, every red light testing me. When I pulled up, Rachel was already there, coat open and boots untied.
We struggled to get it inside. I’d laughed under my breath and nearly dropped the whole damn thing when she told me to pivot at one point, but she hadn’t meant it as a joke. She eyed me like she thought I was weird, but I didn’t bother to explain.
We had to balance it on a rolling cart since it was so heavy, but we got it inside and in place. I stepped back, chest heaving a little, and looked at it where it stood in her space. I stuck my stupid bow on top.
Right.
As I walked out the door, I asked Rachel about the ongoing hangman game on Lou’s whiteboard. “Oh, I assumed she was playing with you or Has. I don’t know.”
It didn’t sit right, but I rechecked my watch and got the fuck out of there.
Louisa
Will disappeared. His truck was gone. He didn’t even say bye to me. That dick.
“Hey, I need your help with—‘’ Christian started, but then he got a text and changed his mind. “Never mind, you’re free to go.”
Okay, I guess I’m dismissed.
I walked outside, suddenly very aware of the fact that I didn’t belong here—not really. I wasn’t Catholic. I’d only met Marisol a little over a month ago. Will wasn’t here, and I didn’t know where Has had gotten to. Probably hiding from Mike. I tugged my coat tight around myself.
“Oh, there ye’are. I’ve been lookin’ for ye, love.”
Maeve’s expression changed when she saw my face. She pulled my coat even tighter and my hat further down on my head. I leaned into her fussing.
“Why don’t ye come to mine for some warm soup, eh?”
“Thank you, but I took the bus with Hasan. And I have a shift at Eilidh’s in a couple of hours.”
“Ah, we all do, that. Okay. I’ll see ye later.”
Sometimes I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but it sounded nice.
“Oh, Maeve?” I pulled the box out of my bag. Wrapped in brown paper, I’d drawn tiny dicks all over it, and I hesitated, wondering if I should give it to her. “Can you put this in Will’s stocking tonight? I meant to give it to him myself, but he left before I could.”
“Of course,” she said, eyes bright and laughing as she looked it over. She smiled warmly at me and rubbed my arm with a gloved hand. Will’s mom was the best. “Merry Christmas, love.”
“Merry Christmas, Maeve.”
I eventually found Has asleep on the mats where they host Children’s Liturgy, and we caught the bus back to my place. I was working tonight, so he planned to join Rachel’s family for some kind of dreidel game. He walked me to my door and took off for the dorms.
