Am I theirs?
He’s finally starting to relax around Jamie, and I can only assume it’s because he’s seen Honey again. She’s been avoiding him for months, so maybe he finally got her to talk to him.
“That went better than expected,” Jamie murmurs, moving around the island and close enough to me that our pinkies touch.
“Yeah.” I keep my attention focused on our hands as his fingers subtly claim mine. “Turns out we both had a good night,” I say quiet enough that Ella can’t hear.
His eyes meet mine, warm and full of promise. “Best night of my life, actually.”
“Jamie, you're being mushy again!” Ella calls from the couch. “Mommy says mushy boys are silly!”
“I never said that,” I protest, but I'm laughing.
Jamie grins, straightening. “Well, if your mommy says I'm silly, I probably am.”
“The silliest,” I agree, and when he fully locks our hands together, I accept it.
For now, this is enough. This messy, complicated, beautiful thing we're building.
This feels like home.
This feels likeours.
Chapter 21
I adjust my collar for the third time as I check my reflection in the library window. My hands are shaking, the nerves so palpable that I give myself a second to calm down.
Moving over to the side of the building, I rest my back against the brick wall and take a deep breath.
I shouldn’t be this anxious over an interview at a bookstore. It’s small time compared to the stuff my father had me doing atSanderson and Nickswhile I was in high school, so why can’t I relax?
Maybe that’s why?
I didn’t have to interview for it. I’ve never had to interview for anything in my life. In fact, everything has been handed to me because of my last name. This will be the first time I’ve ever had to actually prove that I can get a job without my father’s help.
That’s why I don’t just want this job. Ineedit.
The savings I have are quickly dwindling and won’t be able to sustain a family for long. If I want to prove to Tiff and Ella that I can support them, that I can be the man they deserve, then I need to be able to support myself and do a fucking interview.
I push off the wall and head into the bookstore.
It’s quiet, but I like that. My life has been so full of pressure and people and noise, and maybe something like this is what I need.
I walk past the bestsellers and head to the cafe section of the bookstore where I was told to wait for my interview.
As I look around for the best seat, I’m surprised to see a familiar face sitting at the only table in use.
Honey.
Her dark hair is pulled back in that ballet bun again as she aggressively types something on her laptop.
With a large coffee resting at her side, it seems she’s been here a while.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I approach her slowly, waiting for her to register me, but whatever’s on her laptop is holding her attention.
“Honey,” I say quietly. “What are you doing here?”