“Aaron,” she said with a shrug. “My assistant.”
Annie lifted a brow. “And has he called in a panic? Set anything on fire?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Then it sounds like you trained him well enough to handle things without you.” Annie gave a satisfied nod. “You’ve done your part, Laurel. Now it’s time to figure out what you want. Maybe…a bookstore?”
Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “Did Rylee tell you that?”
“My wrists may be busted, but my brain still works fine.” Annie chuckled. “Your uncle and I always thought you’d end up doing something with books. You had your nose in one from the moment you could walk.”
Laurel smiled, remembering the old pictures of her toddler self curled up with a book three times her size.
“And I’ll tell you this,” Annie said, reaching for her mug again. “You living in that building, running it, opening a bookstore on the same ground where you used to read when you were little? Your uncle would’ve loved that. You, building a life for yourself under his roof? That would’ve meant the world to him.”
Laurel’s throat went tight again, emotion creeping in like a tide. But she felt it too—that stirring sense of something real taking root.
Maybe…just maybe…herdreams were finally within reach.
***
The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows as Laurel stood in her living room, watching Brandi direct her team like a woman on a mission. More lamps were being placed. Curtainrods installed. Boxes labeled bath and kitchen were being unpacked at lightning speed.
“You really don’t waste time,” Laurel said, amused.
Brandi flashed a grin. “Oh, I waste plenty of time. Just not when I’m on a deadline.”
“Well, you don’t have to waste it in this apartment anymore,” Laurel said. “I can take it from here.”
Brandi arched a brow, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “So, Harland’s got you too? I knew it would.” The woman pulled her in for a quick hug, then stepped back. “I’m glad.”
Stupid tears sprang to Laurel’s eyes, but she blinked them away quickly. “Me too.”
“When did you make up your mind?”
She laughed. “Just now, officially. Although everything’s been leading to it, as I’m sure you and everyone else already noticed.”
“Perhaps,” Brandi said with a knowing smile. “So, is this decision about opening a bookstore that a little birdie may have mentioned, or does it have something to do with a certain handsome, grumpy, ex-military man?”
Heat flooded her face despite her best efforts. She snorted. “Not sure. Possibly both.”
“I hear ya.” Brandi winked. “My husband was a handsome, broody, grumpy military man when I met him. Last person I wanted to get involved with, but fate knows what she’s doing.”
“Oh, I—I don’t know that Bennett and I are exactly involved,” Laurel stammered. “I’m just…you know…trying to get through one day at a time.”
Brandi regarded her with a knowing look in her eyes. The kind of look women passed between each other when they saw something unfolding before the other person was ready to admit it.
“Sure,” Brandi said lightly, moving back to smoothing a curtain panel. “And I only married my husband because he fixed my mailbox.”
Laurel huffed a laugh. “Okay, that’s not even a believable excuse.”
“Exactly.” Brandi shot her a grin over her shoulder. “Kade is great at rescuing animals. He doesn’t know diddly about mailboxes.”
She laughed again.
“Seriously, though, Laurel.” Brandi turned to face her, setting a hand on her arm. “It never starts big. It starts with small things. Trust. Laughter. The way someone always seems to be right where you need them, when you need them.”
Laurel folded her arms, trying to guard against the smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re not wrong. But this is still new. And complicated.”
