Chapter 3 #2
Rome noticed, but he thought once he was back in Chicago, everything would sort itself out. That I'd finish school, power through, keep going. That was Rome's answer for everything. Keep going. Push harder. Don't stop.
It was Erin who'd supported me when I said I needed to stop. Erin who'd told Rome that I get to make this call. That had sadly started the worst fight they'd ever had. He came back from Harbor Hill with a broken heart and a sister who'd chosen a gap year against his advice.
He came around, eventually. Accepted the break. Accepted Harbor Hill over traveling, even though he didn't understand it. Found me the apartment because that was what Rome did. Even when he disagreed with you, he made sure you were safe while you did the thing he thought was wrong.
Harbor Hill has Erin, Poppy, Ruth, the flower shop, the slow, easy rhythm of a town that doesn't ask me to be anything other than here. But it also has Rome, and that matters more than the rest of it. Even if I'd never say that to his face.
I need to be close to him. He's been my rock for as long as I can remember. Even when he drives me crazy. Even when he hovers and pushes and tries to steer my life from the passenger seat. He's the one person who has never left, not once.
"I feel good," I tell Poppy, and I mean it.
"Good." She kicks her feet against the stool legs, and I know that look. That's her I'm about to stir the pot look. "So. Any development on the Cal front?"
"I don't have a Callahan front," I say lightly. There's nothing going on.
"He called the shop yesterday." Erin's voice is too casual, meaning she's been waiting for the right moment to drop it. "Asked me what time Lily works in the morning so he could pick up his flowers when she's not here."
I go still. "He did what?"
"Called ahead. To make sure you wouldn't be behind the counter." She snips a stem, like this is nothing, like she hasn't just detonated a small bomb.
"He's been picking up his weekly bouquet for years without calling first. Now suddenly he needs a schedule."
I try not to let my face show anything, but my stomach won't stop turning and I'm suddenly very interested in the scissors in my hand.
"So he's avoiding me."
"Oh, honey." Poppy shakes her head, sympathy in her eyes but underneath it, a knowing edge. "That is not what avoiding looks like."
"He literally called to find out when I'm not here, Poppy."
"Right. Because he can't function when you are."
She hops off the stool, pulls me closer by the wrist, and makes me face her. I don't want to face her. I want to go back to three minutes ago when I didn't know any of this and I could still breathe normally.
”A man who doesn't care just comes and goes. He doesn't think about it. He doesn't rearrange his whole week around it." She squeezes my hand, her grip warm and certain. "Honey, Cal is trying to survive you. That's what this is.”
I find Erin's face across the shop because I need a second opinion, need someone to tell me Poppy's being dramatic, but Erin just shrugs one shoulder like this is obvious, like I'm the last person to figure it out.
"She's not wrong. He came in last week when you were here and he couldn't even tell me what color flowers he wanted.
He just stood there and said 'the ones that are good.
' He's been buying arrangements here forever, Lily.
He knows exactly what he wants. He just couldn't think straight with you in the room. "
"You are too much for him." Poppy grins, pleased with it all, and shoves me back toward my station like the matter is settled. "So he's creating distance because the alternative is standing in this shop making an idiot of himself every Thursday."
I turn the idea over in my mind, test it for weak spots. Could they be right?
"Well." I pick up my scissors again, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "It's not my fault that man is sex on legs."
The silence that follows is deafening. I glance up to find them both staring at me, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, like I've just confessed to a felony.
"What is it?"
"Sex on legs?" Poppy repeats.
”Have you looked at him?" I don't know why I'm defending this. I should stop talking.
"He's enormous, with an unfairly gorgeous face. And so fucking hot and gentle and he blushes from the neck up when you make eye contact. That's a deadly combination. That's not my fault."
Erin tilts her head, pressing her lips together like she's considering this very seriously, which she is absolutely not.
"I mean, Cal is attractive, sure, but I wouldn't say…"
"Oh, don't even." I point a finger at her, and I know I'm digging my own grave here but I can't stop.
"You do not get to play the reasonable one.
You drool over my brother every time he walks into a room.
I've seen you lose your train of thought mid-sentence because he rolled up his sleeves.
Sleeves, Erin. Fabric moving up his arms. That's all it takes. "
A flush creeps up her neck, which means I've hit a nerve.
"I do not drool."
"You absolutely drool. You drool and it's disgusting and I have to witness it with my own eyes every time he stops by the shop."
A dangerous glint enters her eyes. She turns to face me fully, leaning against the counter, and I realize too late that I have made a terrible strategic error. She's got that look. The one that says she's about to make me regret every word I've ever spoken.
"Your brother happens to have very nice forearms."
"No."
"Really nice forearms." She's settling in now, getting comfortable, and I can feel the trap closing around me. "The sort that do make you forget what you were saying mid-sentence. I'm not ashamed to admit it."
"I will pay you actual money to stop talking."
"And hands." She holds up her own hand, studies it like she's comparing, like this is a perfectly normal thing to do in the middle of a flower shop while discussing my brother's body parts. "He has these hands that just…"
I cover my ears. Physically. Like a five-year-old who doesn't want to hear that vegetables are healthy. I don't care. Some things cannot be unheard.
"I am going to walk into the harbor."
"…when he rolls his sleeves up and you can see the veins running down his forearms…"
"ERIN."
"…and honestly, Lily, it's a lot to handle. I'm only human."
She's glowing. Actually glowing, lit up with the sheer joy of torturing me. Poppy has one hand pressed to her mouth like that's going to contain the laughter spilling out of her. Traitors. Both of them.
"That's it." I untie my apron and throw it on the counter, because I refuse to stand here and take this. "I'm going next door. I'm going to sit with Ruth and drink a hot cocoa and talk about the Beckett boy and no one is going to mention my brother's hands or Callahan's teeth or anyone's anything."
"His teeth specifically?" Poppy manages between wheezes, wiping her eyes. "You said sex on legs and now you're specifying teeth? What about his teeth, Lil?"
"Goodbye!"
"Have fun with Ruth!" Erin calls after me, not even trying to hide her mirth. "Tell her I said hi!"
I shove through the door and the cold hits me immediately, sharp against my flushed cheeks. I can still hear them behind me, the sound spilling out onto the sidewalk. I stand there for a moment, the chill biting at my skin, and try to arrange my face into annoyed. I'm smiling. I can't help it.