Page 8 of Muffin Top
She waved a hand around, encompassing the room. "I built this addition because I wanted everything to be completely accessible for every client who walks, rolls or shuffles through our door. We could have gone up, changed the top floor attic into a studio, but it wouldn't have been accessible to everyone. So, we bumped out. More money, more time, but the end result is inclusive which is what my clients deserve. Everyone should have access to peace, and this room the programs that we offer in here, is hopefully giving them a little slice of that."
"I get that." I followed her from the room, heading back to the reception area.
We stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. I shoved my hands in my jean pockets, glancing around, my gaze narrowing in on the box of decorations spilled across the floor.
"Are you redoing the display?"
"Oh!" She practically skipped over to the box to pull an autumn wreath free from the box. "Yeah, Halloween's over so I'm going with a fall theme for November. I've settled on Harry Potter." She reached back into the box and pulled an old witch's hat free. "See? It's the Sorting Hat!"
"Is Harry Potter a fall theme?"
She tilted her head, considering my question. "Maybe not directly, but the colors and mystic work for this time of year. I always think fall is a little dark but a little magic. You know?"
I grinned, squatting down to dig through the box. "I like that you're still into seasonal decorations. It was always one of my favorite things about you."
She froze, "you remember that?"
"Honey, I remember everything."
Our eyes met and held. There were a million thoughts and emotions flickering behind that look – and I wanted to decipher them all.
"Tristan, are you here to get my statement or your jacket back?"
"Both," I admitted. "But that can wait till tomorrow. How about I give you a hand tonight with the display?"
She bit her lip, and for a second I thought she was going to refuse.
"I'd actually really like that."
That quiet admission left me feeling like I'd won the damn Super Bowl.
I lugged boxes, helping her pack away the Halloween items and hang the new decorations. I listened as she described how the town had changed in the years I'd been gone.
"You know, I'm surprised I didn't hear you were back," she paused, hands extended above her head balancing a garland of leaves. "I mean, I've been busy with the build, but I didn't think I was that busy to have missed the incredible Tristan's return." She sent me a saucy wink before turning back to drape the garland.
"Incredible, hmm?" I shifted, holding the ladder steady for her. This position gave me an uninterrupted view of her ass – perfection.
"Oh, don't pretend like you don't know you are. The many accolades at school, getting into Purdue with a full ride, becoming detective in record time." She finished pinning. I let go, moving to give her space to climb down. Once safely back on the floor, she crossed her arms over her chest, giving me a large grin. "Your mom came in a few times. You and your brother were all she'd talk about." She shrugged, wincing again. "It's nice that your mom is so proud of you."
"I don't know," I reached out, pulling a small leaf free from her hair. "I think it's in the rule book for parents to be abnormally proud of their kids."
"I can tell you categorically that's not true," she turned, reaching for the next set of decorations.
I remembered Caleb's comment from last night, about her parents being disapproving of her boyfriends. "Why would your parents not be proud of you? Look at all you've achieved." I wave a hand around, gesturing at the room. "Babe, this is impressive. By all accounts you're a successful businesswoman, kickass therapist and a genuinely caring human being."
She blinked at me for a moment then flushed, looking away. "That's really nice of you to say."
I crouched beside her, waiting till she looked at me. "It's not nice. It's the truth. You've always been intelligent, funny, charismatic. People want to be around you because you're like…" I tried to think of an analogy that didn't sound corny. "A firefly."
She snorted, a surprised laugh bursting free. "What?"
"You know," I made a floating motion with my hand. "They're reminders of summer. Of long days and great memories. They're magical. They sparkle. They bring people joy. You want to catch them and hold that magic in your hand, but you know if you do, you'll break it." I shrugged. "You're like that. Magical. A little mysterious. But everyone wants to be around you."
She looked stunned, her eyes wide, mouth slack. She swallowed, then swallowed again. "That’s… that is honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." She looked away, taking a deep breath before turning back to me, a small smile I'd never seen before on her lips. "Just for the record, I don't break easy."
I grinned and for a long moment all we did was stand in the display window, smiling at each other. Surprisingly, even that devil voice inside me felt okay with this moment.
"So," she finally broke eye contact, reaching for some clear fishing line. "What brought you back? Last I heard you were living it large in LA."
