Page 66 of Worst in Show

His eyes lock with mine. “Yes… That must have been it.”

A long moment follows when Boris’s breathing is the only sound around us. Leo’s gaze makes me want to lean forward, closer, but thankfully my machine is between us. I press my palms to the cool metal and sit back instead. “It’ll be fifty bucks even for the cape,” I say, looking away. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready. Those over there will be too small for her.”

“Deal.” After a brief pause, he stands. “I should go. Like I said, I just wanted to check on the big guy.”

The way he says it makes me feel bad, like I’m kicking him out in the cold when he deserves better. I scramble for something to say to make the feeling go away. “It was very sweet of you—how you carried him back and everything. Thank you. I mean it. I’ll try to be nicer.”

“You’re welcome. But for what it’s worth, I already think you’re nice.” He moves toward the stairs. “And I actually do like your place. Especially what you’ve done with the lights around the window. They make you look like a Renaissance painting when you sit there, half lit among your fabrics.”

I peer over at him, afraid to move. My heart pounds unevenly against my ribs.

He lifts his hand and is just about to head down the stairs when he spots something in the murky hallway that makes him flinch. “Oh God, that scared me. For a second, I thought it was a person.”

I go over there to look. “It’s just my dress form.” I pull it out from the wall, and the blue silk of the half-finished gown I’m working on glints in the light.

“That’s pretty. Is it for you?” Leo asks, stepping around it to see the back.

“Nah. Sometimes I take commissions from people online.”

He stops and looks from the dress to me and then back. “Oh?” The word catches and comes out like a small croak.

I run my hand across the pinned-together bodice. “This one is actually for the Lincoln masquerade ball, so it’ll be pretty tight to finish it. It’s currently sucking up every spare moment I have.”

Leo pulls in a quick breath that ends in a cough. “Ah.” He bangs his fist against his sternum twice. “Got something…” He coughs again. “Stuck.”

I squint at him. “You okay?”

He backs away a step, eyes still on the dress. “Yeah. Uh-huh.” A quick smile, another step back.

“You sure? You seem a little… off.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s still unnerved by the dress form.

Finally, he meets my eyes again. His are wide like he’s just noticing me there. “No, sorry. I’m just… I should go.”

“Okay. Well, thanks again.” I take hold of the dress to stay put. The air feels weird. Charged with undefinable undercurrents.

He nods slowly and presses his lips together. “Okay, I’ll see ya.” A moment later, he’s gone.

And so, it would appear, is my common sense because, in a turn of events only Micki could have predicted, I wanted him to stay.

I think I like Leo Salinger. I think I like him quite a bit.

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In the week leading up to Halloween, I’m too busy to do much besides run the store and sew. I squeeze in a visit with Harvey who’s making progress with his walking, but training is a no-go. It almost feels like Leo and I are avoiding each other. My only interaction with him for the week is a wave or two through the windows and a comment he leaves on my Instagram post featuring Boris snoozing at my feet.

Did you register him as a lethal weapon yet? he writes. *Winky face emoji.*

It’s probably for the best that that’s all I get, but it also doesn’t feel like enough. His visit at my place still lingers in my mind like a cliffhanger at the end of a chapter where I’ve yet to turn the page.

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