“Yeah. There are so many options.” Lizzy squinted at the space, trying to visualize the perfect display. Of course, one of her favorites from Hideaway popped into mind. “You know what looks nice? I love it when stores have open books hanging from the ceiling like they’re a flock of birds. Ooh, ours could be a flock of sparrows.”
“Iloveit.” Her friend clasped her hands in front of her chest. “So how would we do that? With fishing line?”
“Probably.”
“I think that would look beautiful.” Shannon turned to the front entrance when the shopkeeper’s bell announced a new arrival. “Hi, Lisa. It’s good to see you.”
“Hi, Shannon.” The customer’s mouth dropped open as she looked around the bookstore. “Oh, my. Am I in the right store?”
“Do you like our new look?” Shannon chewed on her bottom lip nervously.
“I absolutely adore it,” Lisa whispered, walking deeper into the store. “I have to come in here more often. And bring my girls. It’s so bright and cheerful.”
Lizzy felt such a sense of accomplishment and joy for the part she’d played in Sparrow’s transformation. She bumped Shannon’s shoulder, who beamed at her. Her friend’s heart must have felt so full at seeing her store grow and flourish under her caring hands.
It was so different from spending her days arguing with her opposing counsels and appeasing her clients. With her job, the best-case scenario was a settlement where both parties walked away somewhat dissatisfied. One party felt like they paid too much, and the other party felt like they received too little. It wasn’t ideal, but that was the nature of compromise. Trials weren’t any better. Considering the drain on time, resources, and emotional reserve, the “winner” wasn’t really a winner. In the end, all lawsuits were lose-lose situations.
But it was what she did. She didn’t know how to do anything else. The only thing that gave meaning to her job was becoming the best one at it. At times, she resented her mom for pressuring her with her constant disapproval—driving Lizzy to push herself harder and harder yet. But it was her own choice, too, because if she didn’t make partner, what was the point of it all? The thought left a hollow feeling in her chest.
“How are you doing back here, Mom?” Jack asked, walking into the kitchen. He was on his break, and he didn’t want to spend it alone with his thoughts—thoughts about Lizzy and what was going to happen tonight.
“Our fry cook is out today, so I’ve got my hands full,” she replied, stirring this and flipping that.
“And it’s a busy night on top of that.” He went to stand behind her and massaged her tight shoulders. “I wish I could help out, but I know I’ll just get in the way.”
His mom reached behind her and patted his hand. “You’re needed on the floor. I’ve got it covered back here.”
“You’re Superwoman.” He continued kneading her shoulders. It was the only way to make her take a breather.
“I prefer Wonder Woman.” She swatted his hand away after a minute and returned to cooking. “Speaking of Wonder Woman, how is Lizzy doing?”
“Lizzy? Doing?” he stuttered, grateful that his mom’s eyes were on the stove so she didn’t see his blush. “Fine. She’s doing fine. Why is she Wonder Woman?”
“She’s living up to Mrs. Chung’s expectations. That’s not an easy feat.” She glanced up briefly with a mischievous smile. “Besides, Lizzy has always been an overachiever.”
“Yeah.” He looked down and scuffed his shoe on the floor, fighting against the insecurities rising in him. Lizzy wanted him, not some fellow overachiever. “She’s amazing.”
His mom met his eyes and held on to them for long enough to make him fidget. It seemed like she was reading a word bubble over his head that spelled out his every thought in real time. But she dropped her eyes again without saying anything.
“I should get back out there,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want me to send Tara in as backup?”
“There’s no need,” she reassured him, sprinkling furikake over a basket of piping-hot fries. “This is ready. For table eight.”
“Got it.” He grabbed a tray and loaded the furikake fries on it. “Let us know if it gets too much.”
The crowd didn’t let up for most of the night, which was ablessing for Jack. Between lust and nerves, he would’ve been a jittery mess if they hadn’t been busy. But as the night neared the end, he was impatient to go to Lizzy. Not because of the prospect of sex—well, that, too—but mostly because he missed her.
He didn’t know how he used to be able to go for months without seeing her. It probably had to do with this falling-in-love business. A person had very little control over themselves when they were free-falling. He could barely last eight hours without seeing her. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, but his smile froze on his face a moment later.
What was he going to do when she went back to Los Angeles in less than two weeks? And how much harder would it be to let her go after he made love to her? A vise clamped around his heart and squeezed. He took a deep breath. He didn’t have the capacity to worry about that right now. He would risk whatever heartache awaited him down the line to have her tonight—to make her his, even for a little while.
Besides, it was too soon to worry. McBain remained frustratingly silent, but no news meant there was still a chance of good news. He might be able to join her in LA. He felt a familiar mix of nerves, hope, and excitement churning in his stomach. He resisted the urge to check his email yet again. It was close to midnight. He doubted anyone would be working at this hour.
He changed out of his T-shirt into a button-down he’d brought to the brewery earlier. Midnight or not, this was a date, and he wanted to look nice for Lizzy. His hands shook as he buttoned his shirt. It was too late to pick up flowers. Should he stop by the liquor store to buy a bottle of wine? To hell with it. He had no time to waste. He needed to see her.
“Good night, Alex.” He marched out of the brewery without giving his brother a chance to respond.
When he arrived at the bookstore, he jumped out of his carand ran up the stairs to Lizzy’s apartment, taking two steps at a time. He knocked without pausing. He was breathing hard, but it had very little to do with the trip up the stairs.
