Chapter 22
22
Kieran
By four in the afternoon the festival was coming to a close, the other vendors beginning to pack up and the last few stragglers making their way toward the exit. For the first time, we were almost sold out of everything. Lila had already made a run to the shop to take a load of empty trays and supplies and make more donuts, leaving Sybil and me alone again. Not that we’d been alone. The booth had been packed all day, and I begrudgingly had to admit that Sybil and Lila had both been right about public interest in our story. At a certain point in the afternoon, it had almost felt natural when Sybil touched me or smiled at me. Of course, the touching and smiling stopped when the customer turned their back, like it should have.
The older woman standing with us now leaned over the almost empty case and spoke to Sybil conspiratorially. “Was it love at first sight?”
“Love at first sight? I don’t know, but there was a connection.” She motioned to the box in her hands. “Oh, do you want to try a few flavors of the cake donuts?”
The woman nodded, and I admired the easy way Sybil did this. Letting her take the lead had been my best decision of the day, and not just because standing behind her meant I had the opportunity to drink in her thick thighs under those tight jeans.
“A connection,” the woman said, her voice sounding wistful. “And you knew she was the one?” Her eyes swung to me, inspecting me as if to catch the lie, but before I could answer, I had an elbow nudging at my ribs.
“Of course he did,” Sybil joked, smiling widely so that her dimples popped on her cheeks. “That’s seven,” she said. “Want me to grab five more so you make it a full dozen?” I kept waiting for a customer to catch on to her pattern—skirting their questions and then selling them more donuts. No one did, though, and this woman nodded like so many others had, pulling her wallet from inside a massive purple purse before handing over cash, saying she’d take them to her book club.
“You knew as soon as you saw her?” She pressed a palm to her heart and then saved me from having to answer by answering her own question. “Oh, I know you did. Look at how you look at her.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at a man loaded down with reusable bags standing about ten feet back. “My George used to look at me that way. You did know as soon as you saw her, huh?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been looking at Sybil until the woman’s comment, but my face heated and I glanced away. “I knew she was something special,” I said.
“Baby,” Sybil said, shooting me a sweet smile. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Sybil had been at this all day, and I knew I wasn’t even coming close to embarrassing her.
“Anything else for you?” She handed the box to the woman and leaned away from me. “Don’t tell him, but I added an extra cinnamon roll to your box. No charge. They’re my new favorite, and there’s only one left. I bet George will love it.”
“What if George has diabetes or can’t have gluten?” I posed the question once the woman walked away after giving Sybil and me a few more encouraging comments about our love.
“Then he won’t eat it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Must you always be so pessimistic?”
The man who must have been George greeted the woman with a smile across the room, and we caught the two of them looking back at us. I leaned in toward Sybil until my lips were close to her ear. “I’m told pessimism is part of my charm.”
“I promise you,” she said in a soft voice, batting her lashes for the world to see us in love. Sybil’s lips grazed the tip of my nose in a soft peck. “It’s not.”
“I can’t leave you two alone for a second,” Lila said, brushing her pink hair from her face. “I swear there’s always a fifty-fifty chance I’ll return to you either bickering or screwing under the table.”
Sybil pulled away and pointed at me with her thumb. “This one would raise concerns of food safety if that happened.”
“I would rightfully raise concerns about food safety if that happened.” I looked around for what needed to be packed and ignored both women and my own hypocrisy, because I hadn’t been worried about any kind of safety when we’d crashed into my office that first night. Also, the thought of reliving that with her had an effect on me I didn’t like.
I expected an immediate response from either woman, but none came for once. I saw them exchange shrugs out of the corner of my eye, and Sybil finally said, “I guess that’s fair.”
“I think we can manage this.” Lila spoke to Sybil behind me as I boxed up what was left of the donuts. “If you want to take off.”
“I can help,” Sybil said, the honey in her voice blotting out the last of the annoyance I wanted to hold on to.
I set two boxes aside, the last of the inventory. “You don’t have to,” I added. I was certain she had places to go and fun to have. I imagined Saturdays were a minefield of fun for someone like Sybil, and she was working harder at pretending to be in love than me, so probably ready to give it a rest.
“I don’t mind,” she said, helping Lila load a few totes onto our cart. “Want me to take this out to the van?” She was still ignoring me and spoke to Lila, the two discussing a few instructions before Sybil walked toward the exit, the cart in tow.
“You could be a little nicer to her,” Lila commented, stacking the unused boxes and beginning to fold up our banner, the faded one Granddad had purchased in the early nineties with big cartoon donuts surrounding the text.
“I’m nice.”
“She helped us all day,” she added. “And we sold a lot more than usual. Even you have to admit that.”
“I know.” I checked the cashbox and powered down the iPad before tucking both away. “But this was dishonest.”
“We didn’t cheat anyone,” she said, resting a hand on my arm. “There was no price gouging. And I was here all day—you two never once brought it up. She just talked to people if they brought it up. And,” Lila said, shifting from the comforting palm on my arm to a finger tapping my forehead, “we sold a ton.” She motioned to the two boxes that were left. “I even cleared out what we had back at the shop.”
“But we’re not dating. That’s a lie.”
“Then go on a date,” she said, exasperated. “I don’t know what else to tell you. We’re in this thing now, and we’re in it with her.” Lila hoisted the last case into her arms. “Why don’t I take the van back to the shop and begin unloading?”
“Am I just walking home?”
Sybil returned, twirling the van keys around her finger before tossing them to Lila.
Lila grinned. “Would you give Kieran a ride back, if you don’t mind? I know you two lovebirds could use more time together.” With that, she sauntered off, and I cut my gaze to Sybil’s confused expression.
“I’m sorry for my sister,” I bit out. “I can figure out a way to get home. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can take you.”
“I want to drop these off at the shelter on the way.” I picked up the box I’d packed for the shelter between this location and the shop. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“I don’t mind. There isn’t anything else I need to do today.” She nodded toward the exit, pulling on the hem of the tight shirt that had snagged my attention more than once during the festival.
Her car was a block or two away, and we walked side by side in silence, the streets near the festival relatively quiet. “I’m surprised you don’t have plans,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat of her compact car, my knees scrunched against the dashboard.
Sybil shrugged, turning the key in the ignition and getting a grinding sound from under the hood. She turned the key again, whispering, “C’mon, girl.”
“Do you need me to take a look?”
Sybil shook her head, her stare intent on the steering wheel. “She’s just a little grumpy at first. Kinda like you.” She cooed to the car again, and the engine finally roared to life. Sybil’s grin widened and she looked at me. “She just needs a little love and tenderness to warm her up.”
“Sounds like she needs a new starter,” I said as Sybil pulled from the lot.
“Maybe that, too,” she said with a laugh. “But I was being cute and suggestive.”
“You don’t have to do that when we’re alone.”
She mimicked my tone from earlier. “I’m told it’s part of my charm.”
We were immediately stopped at a red light, and she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “And why are you shocked I don’t have plans? Do you have plans?”
“Of course not.” I looked up and down the street, but the row of nondescript office parks nearby didn’t provide much distraction. “My plans are only ever work. I just figured you would because you’re…I don’t know. Fun.”
“Honestly, if I go to my friends’ place where I’m crashing, I’ll be by myself. My sister is busy with wedding planning, and if I go to my mom’s, she’ll just be on me about figuring things out for my life.” Sybil’s car lurched forward when she tapped the gas as the light turned green. “So why not drive around with someone who kind of tolerates me?”
She smiled, but not as widely, and I immediately felt bad. Lila was right—she’d been with us all day and had been a huge help, and she didn’t have to do any of that.
“I don’t just tolerate you.”
“You endure me? Suffer my presence? Bear my proximity for the greater good?” She tapped her finger on the turn signal, and I noticed a tiny chip in the color on her ring finger.
“Endure is probably closest.” I paused, waiting for her gaze to snap up and worried she’d take me seriously, but her eyes kind of sparkled, and the smile was genuine. She got my sarcasm, and like the sight of her in that tight T-shirt, that smile evoked feelings in me I didn’t want to think about.
“I’ve always thought you were funny, Kieran.”
“It’s a few blocks up and then take a right.” I motioned to the stretch of surface road in front of us. We drove with a comfortable quiet between us until we approached a yellow light. “And thank you,” I added. “For today. You were great. We appreciated it. I know I’m not always easy to work with.”
“I endure you,” she said, hitting the gas again. “And you’re welcome. I just wish you’d loosen up a little.”
The business parks gave way to more industrial real estate, a corner of town that was probably next in the spread of gentrification but had yet to be touched. I pointed out the corner where we’d take a right. “Maybe I’m just like you—I don’t want to deal with not having my life together, so I keep my head down.” I hadn’t expected that bit of honesty to slip out, and I looked back out the window, holding the two boxes of donuts steady from the lurching of the car mixed with the uneven pavement. Ahead, I saw the shelter, a line already forming for the night. “I volunteer here,” I said, wanting to move past that blurted-out truth. “When I can. It’s run by a friend of my grandfather’s, and when it was just us and my mom when I was little, we’d spend time here.”
Sybil hadn’t responded to either statement, and she looked deep in thought while taking in the surroundings.
“I’ll just run these in and be right back,” I said, pointing to a metered spot on the street.
“I’ll go with you,” she said after a moment of drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and looking around. She joined me on the sidewalk leading up to the building, and her hand brushed mine as we walked. “It will be easier to loosen up if we’re in a place you’re comfortable.” She linked her hand with mine, squeezing.
When I didn’t respond, she laughed self-consciously. “Or you can just endure my presence for a few additional minutes and we’ll fool a few more people. I’m good either way.”
She pulled her hand away, but I squeezed her fingers with mine, keeping them linked. Maybe she was right. Or maybe I just liked her hand in mine more than was healthy for me to admit. Either way, we didn’t let go.