It’s gonna be weird.
“Let’s not forget the good news youareresponsible for,” Dex quips.
“Which is?”
“Loren has a brand-new toolbox!” He pushes out a guffaw, and I can’t help admiring my friend’s ability to stay positive. Whether or not that means busting my chops.
“Yeah, yeah. She does.” I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “If you leave the box on the porch, I’ll pick it up and drop it off at Loren’s myself.”
“Right. Special delivery,” he snarks. “I’d say don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but I know it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“You’re already in love with your coworker. Just like I am.”
I frown, but the man isn’t wrong. I am fully in love with Loren.
And she’s the reason I’m about to marry someone else.
A half hour later, when I swing by Dex and Sayla’s house, thecompletely normal-sizedtoolbox is on their porch. Harvest Hollow isn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. Gardening equipment, bikes, skateboards—pretty much any personal property—is safe here, even left in the front yard.
The town is ridiculously safe. For objects. Maybe not so much for my heart.
Related: the drive to Loren’s is almost too quick.
I’m not sure how to tell her I’m going through with the marriage to Rosalind, but I figure I’ll break the ice by gifting her the tools. Given the fact that she basically dubbed me Richie Rich yesterday, the gesture seems kind of underwhelming now.
Too bad I’m short on other options.
I draw in a breath and square my shoulders, preparing to knock, but the door swings open first.
Loren’s standing there in a loose robe and pink cotton pajamas. And by pajamas, I mean a matching tank top and shorts. Emphasis on short.
Her red hair is damp and clipped up chaotically. She’s got cow slippers on her feet.
Related: cow slippers are my new favorite.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she says, pulling her robe tighter.
“You were?”
“Sayla called with a heads-up. And also to check on me, since I was all dramatic yesterday and fainted in her living room.”
“Well, I come bearing gifts,” I say, aiming for calm, although my pulse is amped for the whole Rosalind conversation.
Loren nods to indicate the toolbox. “You didn’t have to.”
“It’s no big deal,” I say. “I just put together a few basics I already had two of in my garage. They were taking up space. Extra hammer. Screwdriver. Level. Stuff like that. No big deal.”
“So you mentioned.” She tilts her head. “And I accept, due to the clear lack of bigness of this particular deal.” She coughs out a laugh. “And by that I mean thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome.” I shrug. “Also.” I take a beat, and my heart starts pumping harder. “I figured we should talk some more. About yesterday. A lot went down, and we kept getting interrupted.”
“I expected that too,” she steps backward and gestures for me to come inside. “I made a pot of coffee. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
On the other side of the door, the space is warm and smells like freshly ground dark roast. And also like Loren’s shampoo. Which I like very much.
The bag of apple cider donuts is still on the table.