Page 53 of Somehow You Knew

“You live there now too, so…”

“But I don’t plan on being there long term.” He taps the table in front of him. “It’d be best if you picked something you’d still want when I’m gone.”

Something in my stomach twists. “Well, forgive me for trying to make the best of the situation and follow the rules, like the letter said.” I take my phone from my purse and snap a picture of his grumpy ass sitting across the table.

He frowns. “What was that for?”

“Just documenting, you know…for the letters.”

Gage sighs, looking out over the bustling restaurant. He stays silent for a moment before surprising me. “I know we brought my bike, so we’d have to pick it up later, but an ottoman would be nice. Something to put my feet up on when I’m sitting on the couch.”

His suggestion momentarily stuns me. “Okay…”

“I had a recliner back at my place in Florida, and I like being able to put my feet up. You sprawl across the whole damn couch when you’re editing or coloring, so it’d be nice to have somewhere to put my feet.”

Suddenly, I realize how hard this probably is for him. He left his home, his things—his entire life—to be here. He probably feels like a stranger in my space.

“Okay then,” I say, nodding. “We will find one.”

Gage stares down at his beer. “If they even have one.”

I reach across and grab his hand again, taking him by surprise. “If we don’t find one today, I’ll order one. I want you to be comfortable at my place.”

That smirk of his returns. “You sure you’re not just trying to butter me up so I’ll enjoy this date a little more?”

I yank my hand back, rolling my eyes. “I’m going to have fun with this, Gage, because that’s the type of person I am. You’re stuck along for the ride either way. Might as well make the best of it.”

***

“This place smells like ocean air and asshole,” Gage whispers in my ear as we step into Thrifty Finds, the thrift store on the boardwalk.

I wrinkle my nose. “It’s concerning that you know what that combination smells like, Gage.”

We finished up our dinner at Catch & Release and made it here just before closing. And sure enough, when we walked in, Judy knew exactly why we were there.

Diane must have gone to great lengths to set all of this up…and just thinking about that makes my chest ache. God, I miss her.

Pushing the thought aside, I force myself to focus on the task at hand—finding the most ridiculous outfit possible for Gage and capturing evidence for future blackmail, if necessary. The ironic thing is, I bet he’s thinking the same thing.

“Where the hell are the clothes?” Gage grumbles as we walk deeper into the store, past shelves of mismatched kitchenware and old bakeware.

“Calm down, we’re almost there.”

“I am calm.”

“Really? Because you’re hovering so close I half expect you to jump on my back for a piggyback ride.” I glance back over my shoulder to find Gage practically glued to my side.

“I hate clutter, Spitfire.” He visibly shudders, and I can’t help but laugh. This store is brimming with clutter, tons of unnecessary items that people have discarded over the years because they no longer served a purpose in their lives.

“Well, that makes two of us,” I say as we finally come to a stop in front of dozens of clothing racks. “But remember why we’re here.”

Gage’s eyes widen in disbelief at the sheer volume of clothes there is to sort through, but he quickly recovers. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

“No need to remind me how badly you’re itching to get away from me,” I say, turning toward a rack of absurdly patterned blazers.

But before I can take a step, Gage grabs my hand and spins me into his chest. I let out a small squeak of surprise, my palm pressed against his solid frame. When our eyes meet, I see sincerity in his. “Clutter makes me anxious, Spitfire. That’s all, okay?”

Nodding, I simply accept his truth. “Okay.”

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