10. Sebastian
Sebastian
“What can I bring?” I ask Flick, phone pressed to my cheek while I dodge Mrs. Sullivan watering her sidewalk petunias.
“Just yourself. I have everything covered. Do you like red wine?”
“I love it.” I run my fingers over some pink flowers in one of the town’s sidewalk pots, their velvety petals still holding the day’s warmth. This day is just getting better and better.
“See you at seven.”
“See you soon. Bye.”
I start to ask her if she’s at Knit Happens since I’m shopping on my lunch break and right down the block from the store, but she’s already hung up.
She sounded a little bit off—a tightness in her voice that wasn’t there this morning—but maybe she was just busy.
I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her later.
Sliding the phone into my pocket, I decide to pop into the shop myself, just in case we can say hi in person.
I had already hoped to see Flick tonight since I’m almost done making her a care package. After seeing her in pain the other night, I found a few products that should help with the soreness she experiences from hours of yarn dyeing.
There’s the tin of Tiger Balm that Dr. Chen swears by for his tennis elbow.
The bag of CBD-infused bath salts from the new wellness shop on Main.
A bottle of tart cherry kombucha and salmon jerky—two things that are supposed to help with muscle soreness, according to the overly enthusiastic clerk at the health food store.
The care package is perfect. At least... I’m hoping it is.
Walking into Knit Happens, the scent of lavender and sandalwood greets me as the bell chimes overhead. I do a quick sweep of the store, looking for Flick. Hannah is standing behind the counter, though, her fingers flying over knitting needles.
“Hey, Sebastian.” She looks up from her project—something green and complicated. “How are you?”
“Good. Is Flick in?”
“No. She has the afternoon off.” She drops her gaze to the gift bag I’m holding, and something shifts in her expression. “That’s a pretty bag.”
“It’s for Flick.” I walk up to the counter, suddenly feeling hesitant to share what I got her. What if they’re all the wrong things?
I clear my throat. “How is your dog?”
“Great.” She brightens, setting down her needles. “I mean, he destroyed the couch, but...great, otherwise,” she laughs. “Can you give something to Flick when you see her tonight?”
Wow. News spreads fast in Pine Island. “You already heard that we’re having a date tonight?” I laugh. “She must have texted you right after I got off the phone with her.”
Her smile dims the smallest amount. “Oh no. I just assumed you’re seeing her. The gift bag...” She gestures at it. “And you’re practically floating on air. Plus, you know how it is here—someone sneezes on Oak Street and by the time they reach Main, everyone’s offering them tissue.”
I wait for more—maybe for her to explain what’s bothering her, but instead, she turns away. “Let me go grab it. Be right back.”
She slips into the back room and emerges a moment later with a small brown shipping box. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Have a good night.” I take a step back, then stop. “Sorry I didn’t buy anything.”
She guffaws. “You can come in here without buying anything. It’s okay.”
“It’s just that knitting isn’t really my thing.”
“Are you sure about that?” She raises an eyebrow.
I think about the embroidery floss videos I’ve been watching late at night, trying to understand Flick’s world better. “No. I’m not sure about it.”
“To be revisited...” She laughs and waves at me as I push the door open.
I haven’t taken three steps down the sidewalk when my phone rings. It’s not Flick but Doris Turner, one of my contacts at the town council in New Hampshire, where I’m hoping to start the animal rescue.
“Hi, Doris,” I quickly answer. “How are you?”
“I’m okay, Sebastian, but my horse isn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Her eating habits have been strange, and she’s doing some weird things. Any chance you can come by and take a look at her this afternoon?”
I bite the tip of my tongue, stopping myself before I refer Doris to another vet. One who is less swamped than me and can probably do a house call today.
But I can’t afford that. If I want to get my animal sanctuary off the ground, Doris is a person I need to be doing favors for. Because of how big an operation the sanctuary will be, I need approval from the town council. Which means I need Doris’s vote when the time comes.
So, I find myself saying, “Sure. I’ll head that way now.”
As I hang up, I take a sharp breath. The clinic will be okay without me for a couple more hours, and hopefully, this won’t get me too behind.
While in the past, I would have just stayed late to get work done, things are different now.
I’m leaning into all the help I have from the others at the clinic, and no way am I canceling on Flick tonight.
I also won’t be relocating our date to a smelly horse stable. Or to a sheep stable to catch a newborn lamb—I don’t care how well that worked out for my brother.
Three hours later, I smell like a barn, but at least I’ve avoided bringing Flick to one.
The scent of hay and horse sweat clings to my clothes despite my attempts to air out during the drive back.
Stepping onto her doormat—a cheerful “Welcome” surrounded by painted daisies—I ring the bell and tense, suddenly second-guessing myself.
What am I doing? I should have gone home and showered first, even though that would have made me late. Or at least changed into the extra clothes I keep at the clinic. Or?—
There’s no more time for second-guessing.
The door opens, and there she is, wearing a flowy dress in soft peach that makes her skin glow.
Her hair is in some sort of partial updo, wispy pieces hanging loose and framing her face like she’s just stepped out of one of those romantic paintings my mother loves.
“You look beautiful,” I say on a quick exhale. And God, she does. I don’t know how her beauty is even real, it’s so exceptional.
“Hello to you, too.” She bites her lip and gives me a flirty look. “And thank you for the compliment. You?—”
“Smell like a horse stable, I know. I’m so sorry. I can go home and shower. I just—I had to go see this horse, and then I ran over here because I wanted to see you?—”
Flick grabs my shirt and tugs me to her. “Do. Not. Go. Home.”
Heat blooms through me, and I slip my arm around her waist. “Oh yeah? What about the smell?”
“I love horses. I grew up riding them.” She kicks the door open farther so we can walk into her condo. “And even if you truly smelled bad, I don’t think I would care. I couldn’t wait for you to come over.”
“Really? Tell me more.” I put her gift bag on the floor so I can get both arms around her.
“More? Like this?” She crushes her lips to mine, and we’re kissing like it’s second nature. There’s no hesitation, no debating. Instead, we meet like we’ve done this a thousand times.
And even if we had, I’m sure it would be just as sweet. Just as special.
Too soon, she breaks away. “As much as I want to continue this, dinner just came out of the oven, and I’m so hungry there’s no way in hell I’m eating it cold.”
Chuckling, I wrap my arm around her from behind and walk her forward. “Then please lead the way.”
In the kitchen, the table is set with care—fancy plates, a lit candle in the middle, actual cloth napkins folded into neat triangles. A roast chicken with vegetables awaits us, the aroma of rosemary and lemon filling the small space. My jaw drops. “I didn’t know you were such a great cook.”
“You haven’t even tried it yet. How do you know I’m any good?” Her tone is mocking, but she can’t hide her pleased smile.
“I don’t need to try it. Not everyone can roast a chicken.” I walk to the sink and quickly wash my hands, the lavender soap she keeps there a stark contrast to the barn smell I’m carrying. Then I take a seat and spread my cloth napkin across my lap, feeling oddly formal and domestic all at once.
“It’s not that hard.” She’s still wearing that pleased smile, though, and I make a note to compliment her cooking again the next time she makes dinner for us.
“Where’s Cat?” I ask.
“Who?” Expressionless, she cuts into her chicken with precise movements.
“Cat. You know, the kitten who lives here with you.”
“Oh. You mean the little monster who shredded up a roll of toilet paper this morning and then got ahold of a roll of paper towels a bit later?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are soft. “Last I saw her, she was doing catnip in the living room. I’m starting to think she has a real problem.”
I snort—and notice that Flick didn’t correct me when I said that Cat lives with her. I’m still searching for a forever home for the kitten, but my suspicions that she’s already found it are growing stronger by the day.
“What’s in the bag?” Flick nods at the gift bag on the floor, which I wasn’t even aware I carried in here with us.
“Things for you.” I pick it up and pass it across the small table. “Since you’ve said your chest muscles have been hurting from work, I made you this care package.”
Her jaw drops. “What? Really?”
“Yeah.” I nod at the gift bag, encouraging her to go through it.
Her smile grows larger with each item she takes out. “Sebastian...this is so nice and thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, finally satisfied that I picked the right objects. The worry that’s been gnawing at me all afternoon—that I was overstepping, being too much—finally eases.
“What’s in this?” She pulls Hannah’s box out of the bag.
“I don’t know. It’s from Hannah. I stopped by Knit Happens because I was on the block and I thought you might be there, and she gave me that.”
Her face falls.
“What?”
“Oh, uh.” She shakes her head. “You just reminded me that I forgot to text her about my shift tomorrow.”
“Do you want to do it now?”