Amos paused for a moment. “I guess we can tell him I came over for dinner to do festival planning?”
Despite the indecisiveness written on his face, I couldn’t ignore the sting from his decision. Did he want to keep us a secret?
Amos was still pulling on his sweater when I exited the bedroom. As I headed toward the door, I heard his socked footfalls behind me.
“Coming,” I called. Before opening the door, I looked over my shoulder and saw Amos settling onto the couch.
Our bubble had officially burst. I couldn’t help a sinking feeling that things would change now.
I tried to look innocent as I opened the door. “Hey! Just saw your text. What’s the big news?”
Bo’s usual friendly smile grew when he spotted Amos over my shoulder. “Hey, Amos. This makes it easy.” Bo stepped inside and removed his shoes, then did a double take at Amos. His eyeswidened briefly, he darted a glance at me, and then he grinned. “Nice sex hair,” Bo said to Amos.
Amos’s hands shot up to fix his hair as Bo sat in my armchair. Sighing, I followed and dropped onto the other end of the couch.
“How long has this been going on?”
Amos and I shot each other panicked looks.
“Halloween,” Amos said.
At the same time, I said, “Saturday.”
Bo’s brow furrowed as he looked like he was trying to connect some dots. “Amos was the Halloween guy you were talking to?”
“How’d you know about that?”
Bo waved me away. “Our friends talk.” His expression turned thoughtful. “This complicates things.”
“Complicates what?” Amos asked.
Bo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The enthusiastic smile from when he’d arrived was replaced with a serious expression. “I heard from a producer withGood Morning, USA, tonight. Through their background research on Maplewood, they learned about the history between Red’s and Sparky’s.”
My gut dropped to the floor. Moments later, my fingers brushed warm skin. I hadn’t realized I’d been seeking Amos’s touch, but he’d responded and intertwined our fingers.
“They want to cover the Christmas Eve dinner while highlighting the rivalry and how that plays out in town. They not-so-subtly encouraged us to play up the feud as much as we can. ‘What makes a better story than diners with a multigenerational rivalry coming together to feed the community for Christmas?’” He made air quotes, then gave us an apologetic grimace. “Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to say, but I have to worry about the town. Can you keep a lid on this until after Christmas?”
Any wishful thinking about being able to openly explore this thing with Amos went up in smoke. He’d be leaving after Christmas.
When I looked at Amos, I found regret in his eyes. The same I’d seen on Halloween. Similar to the moment we’d had at his first meeting for the Christmas festival, an understanding passed between us.
“Don’t worry, Bo. We won’t do anything to mess this up,” Amos said with conviction before pulling his hand back.
My stomach ached like boulders had tumbled into it.
“We’ll make sure this is a huge success. We know the town is counting on this.” Instead of being excited for the guaranteed spotlight on our family businesses, I now felt like I was heading to the gallows.
“I’ll leave you guys to it. I just wanted you to know they decided to highlight your event. Let’s text tomorrow to set up a time to get together and adjust our plan for the dinner. This will surely mean a bigger turnout, and I don’t think the high school gym is going to cut it. More food, more volunteers, more table settings. We have a lot of work to do.”
Shit. He was right. The event was only two weeks away.
“Sounds good. Send us some times that you’re free,” I said.
Bo stood and nodded. “My responsibility to Maplewood aside, as your friend”—Bo made sure to look us each in the eye—“please be careful. I care a lot about you both and don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”
The implication that one of us would hurt the other was loud and clear. He wasn’t wrong—circumstances were stacked against us.
I managed a nod and stood.
