“Sure. Thanks again.”
Leave, Shay! She walked to the door, stopping before the threshold even though she hadn’t intended to do so. She glanced back. “If things are going well between you and Molly after date one and date two, it’s likely that she might invite you over to her place.”
“You think?”
“I really do. So, I’m standing in for Molly and inviting you over to . . . eat pizza and watch a Christmas movie. That way, you’ll be able to do a dry run. And up your game when you go to Molly’s.” What was she doing? Was she embracing self-destruction with both arms? Yes. Yes, she was. “When are you available between now and the live nativity?”
“Sunday night.”
“That night’s good for me. I’ll text my address.”
“Shay.”
She waited.
He slid his hands in his pockets as was his habit. An artist, in his gorgeous studio, surrounded by his paintings. “Any advice for me? About what to do when and if Molly invites me to her apartment?”
“Act pleased but not too pleased.”
“Clear as mud.”
She chuckled. “It’s never a bad idea to bring a hostess gift. I’m more of a plant person, but most women would be delighted with flowers. If she’s making dinner, you could bring dessert. If she’s making dessert, you could offer to bring dinner. And, of course, any woman always appreciates the gift of stationery.”
“So . . . when I come over to your place on Sunday, I’ll bring dessert.”
“When you come over to my place, we’ll just be practicing, so you don’t need to bring anything. I have more peppermint popcorn than we can eat. I’m ordering pizza. And I already own a whole shop full of stationery.”
• • •
Two days later, Gabe pulled free the “18” drawer on their house-shaped advent calendar. His eyes rounded when he saw four pieces of Hubba Bubba gum inside. “Yes! My favorite.”
“For you to enjoy during your after-work hours.” She’d outlawed Hubba Bubba during work because he was such an obnoxious smacker.
He thanked her and held the gum up to his nose, smiling as he inhaled the scent of pink sweetness.
“You’re a very strange person. At times, I wonder what I was thinking when I hired you.”
“Liar. You’ve never wondered what you were thinking when you hired me. I’m the best thing to happen to Papery since . . . you.”
She tidied a display of Christmas cocktail napkins.
“Have you told Connor how you feel about him yet?” Gabe asked, keeping the gum near his nose for a few more whiffs.
“Nope. Day before yesterday he indicated that he loves Molly.”
“No!”
“Yes. At the moment, my best plan is to bide my time and see what happens between the two of them.”
“And if things go badly, you’ll swoop in and take advantage of his heartbreak?”
“Well, yes. Just not in such crass terms.”
He tucked the gum into his apron pocket. “Your plan stinks.”
“This whole situation stinks! I’ve spent most of December helping the man I like win the heart of a woman he likes. I really wish I would’ve woken up to his appeal sooner, back when he was available.”
“The heart’s timetable is a mystery,” he said philosophically. “You’re late to the party but I still think you should go ahead and tell Connor now.”
“I can’t!”
“You can. Now is the most natural time, because you’ve been spending a lot of time with him, having a lot of conversations.”
“Not that conversation. All our efforts have been focused on giving him the best chance at a happy relationship with Molly. I’m not going to destroy those efforts by coming in between them now.”
One of their most challenging customers, Mrs. Grippo, shuffled into the store. She stopped by often, mostly to complain about how expensive their products were before leaving disgruntled.
Shay snuck toward her office. “Time for me to return to work on the new line of notepads,” she whispered.
“Don’t you dare,” he murmured.
“Oh, I do dare. You might be a foot and a half taller than me, but you’re all bark and no bite.”
Chapter Seven
Connor spent way too long getting ready for dinner at Shay’s apartment. He wasn’t planning to tell her that she was Molly tonight and yet it had still taken him ages to shower, shave, and second-guess which clothes to wear before settling on his rust-colored sweater, jeans, and chukka boots. He’d tried to do something with his hair before remembering Shay mentioning at some point that she liked it “casual.” Gratefully, he’d left it alone and gone to the nursery. But then more doubt had met him. What kind of plant to buy? What kind of planter?
Suddenly, simple decisions weren’t so simple. Tonight meant a lot to him. He didn’t want to mess it up.
He ended up having to speed from the nursery to her apartment in order to arrive on time. He caught a string of green lights and knocked on her door slightly out of breath.
The door swung back. “Hi,” she said.
Like always, it took him a moment to adjust to the dazzling sight of her. She wasn’t wearing athletic clothing today. Instead, she’d chosen a pale pink fuzzy sweater and a pair of jeans that hugged the shape of her hips and legs. “Hi.”
Her vision flitted to his gift, then back to his face. “What’s this?” she asked with pleased surprise.
“A white African violet. For you.”
She accepted the medium-sized stone pot. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring anything.”
Except, I did. You suggested I bring Molly a gift and you’re Molly. “I know.” He followed her into an apartment that smelled like pine, due to the real Christmas tree in the corner.
An invitation to her place was worth more to him than an invitation to the treasure cave in Aladdin. He entered, filled with curiosity.
Her apartment was sophisticated, furnished in the same bright pastels and creamy whites of her shop. Organized. Modern. Tasteful. If he’d been shown a photo of this apartment in a lineup, he’d have known it was hers. It suited her perfectly, which meant he liked it instantly.
“How did I do with the plant?” he asked. “Did I go too small? Too big? Choose the wrong kind of flowers?”
“Back at the ugly Christmas sweater party, your instincts were right on the money. Once again, they’re right on the money. Not only did you hear me when I said I’m more of a plant person, but you chose a planter that jives with my style.” She set the pot on the center of her table. “It’s perfect.”
She took his coat, asked if he wanted something to drink, then showed him around. Shay made just about everything she did look easy, and hosting him in her home was no different. She was comfortable in herself, and her relaxed demeanor loosened the tension that had knotted his neck muscles on the drive over.
She pulled a pizza box out of the oven where she’d been keeping it warm, and they sat in front of the two fancy place settings she’d arranged. He ate pepperoni, bell pepper, mushroom, and olive pizza off a china plate. He used a fabric napkin and drank water out of something that looked like a martini glass.