Page 67 of Tell Me It’s Right

I nod.

He nods.

He hesitates, his gaze so intense on my face that I can’t look away, but then he blinks and rises to his feet, and the moment dissipates.

He heads for the stairs and calls, “I’ve got it!”

Chapter Twenty-Four

LIAM

My calendar is a mess with all the rescheduling we’ve had to do lately. I’m just lucky my clients were willing to be so flexible with me. That many cancelations would’ve been a serious hit this month. Poor Gracie’s been running around like a glorified personal assistant all week trying to keep me organized. And if she hadn’t slipped out during my previous client to grab a coffee and sandwich for me from Milano’s, I wouldn’t have eaten anything today at all.

She has her hair up in a ponytail, and it bounces around her head with every step as she sanitizes the stations between appointments. The sight of it loosens something in my chest.

Maybe because until today, I’ve only seen her wear her hair down since the incident with Miles, like she was using it to hide behind.

Today, she has a little light back in her.

Maybe it has more to do with the interview she had this morning. She played it off—it was just over video chat, it didn’t last long, it probably won’t go anywhere—but I know that’s the first nibble she’s gotten with all of those job apps she’s been sending out for months.

So of course she’s excited about it.

And of course I’m happy for her.

Of course.

But I guess I’d been hoping—hell, expecting—to have her around all summer. It hasn’t even been quite a month yet, and she could already be leaving?

We finally get a break around three before my next appointment at four, and I lay my forehead against the front desk and close my eyes.

Gracie pats my back, and I relax a little into her touch. “Just one more to go today, right?” she says. “And it’s Friday. The weekend will be a nice break.”

I nod without lifting my head. This next appointment is bound to take several hours though. It’s the second session on this client’s leg piece that covers her entire upper thigh.

The bells above the door ring, and all of my muscles tense.Oh God, she’s early.But when I look up, it’s Christine’s high heels clicking against the floor as she makes her way inside, Casey at her side holding her hand.

“Hey, Case.” I shoot a questioning glance at Christine. In the years I’ve had this place, I don’t think she’s ever stepped foot inside. Don’t think she’s ever individually sought me out at all. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I was just on my way back from picking Casey up from a playdate, and I was hoping you and I could talk. I know you’re busy. It won’t take long. Promise.”

Maybe Makayla or Dad sent her to try to sell me on the new business again. Or to rope me into something else. Some gaudy party or family appearance, if I had to guess. I’m about to protest—I really just don’t have the bandwidth for this today—when she adds, “It’s about Miles Cushing.”

I stop short.

Casey, oblivious to the new tension in the room, releases his mom’s hand and rushes toward me.

“Hey, buddy.” I bend down to give him a hug, then find Gracie’s eyes over my shoulder. Whatever lightness I’d seen in her today is gone at the sound of Miles’s name. Her features are pinched tightly together like she’s bracing for impact. “Gracie, this is my brother Casey and his mom, Christine.”

She offers a shy smile and wave.

“Hi, Gracie!” Casey beams and goes right in to hug her next. “Our names rhyme!”

“So they do.” Her eyes dart from me to Christine, clearly coming to the conclusion this is not a conversation for his ears. “You’ve probably been here before,” she says slowly, “but can I show you some of the new stuff I’ve been working on in the back?”

“Do you tattoo too?”

“Well, no,” she says. “But I work for your brother. I take pictures, and?—”

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