Page 34 of Big Package

Her shoulder brushed mine. “I’m trying something new, you know. Not planning everything five steps ahead.”

“That sounds hard for you.”

“It’s horrible. Every part of me wants to sit down with a spreadsheet and figure out what happens next.”

“That sounds romantic.”

“You’d be impressed by my spreadsheets. I have color coding.”

“Definitely not.”

She laughed, then looked up at me, and the humor faded into something more honest. “I don’t know what happens with us next week or next month. I do know I like being with you.”

I could have taken the easy way out and made a joke. Instead, I gave her the truth. “I like being with you too.”

Someone called her name from the register. She took two steps, then turned back. “Stay until closing?”

There was no good reason for how much I liked being asked. “Yeah.”

For the next two hours I carried boxes and bags out to customers’ cars, held a ladder while Emmy hung greenery, and got volunteered to fix a wobbly display table because someone saw me holding a screwdriver.

I caught Janice watching me from across the room more than once. Near six, she stopped next to me with a stack of paper cups.

“You fit in better than you think.”

“She’s got enough going on,” I said, before I could stop myself. “She doesn’t need somebody complicating it.”

Janice studied me over her glasses. “Sounds like you’ve already decided what she needs.”

I didn’t respond. Emmy hated people making decisions for her. She’d told me what it felt like when Kevin changed his mind and left her standing in the wreckage of a plan she thought they’d made together.

I wasn’t Kevin. But deciding I knew what was best for her without asking wasn’t a hell of a lot better.

Janice patted my arm and moved on, which was worse than if she’d kept talking.

The volunteers cleared out around seven. Emmy locked the door behind the last one, and the shop settled into the quiet I remembered from the night before.

I looked toward the back office. Emmy followed my gaze, and color rose in her cheeks.

“Not what I was thinking,” I said.

“Liar.”

“Maybe a little.”

She laughed, and I crossed the room. This time I didn’t wait for an excuse to touch her. My hands settled at her waist, and hers slid around my neck. Being together felt more comfortable than it should have after such a short time. That scared me, but not enough to stop wanting her.

I kissed her slowly. There was no storm trapping us together, no bad road giving us an excuse. I kissed her because I wanted to.

When I pulled back, she stayed close. “You’re getting better at this.”

“At what?”

“Not overthinking. You don’t have to be good at it yet.”

I didn’t have a line ready to fire back. Most of my life had been about getting good at things fast enough that nobody had to worry about me. Nobody had ever told me I was allowed to be bad at something for a while.

Then I said the dumbest thing I could have said. “I should go.”