Page 109 of All's Well that Friends Well

I stop in place, and she does too. She turns to me, tilting her head.

“You’re holding my hand,” she says, the night shadows shifting over her features as she speaks. “That means something to me, and I know it means something to you.”

I sigh, because she’s right, and I guess we need to talk about it. “I spoke to Maura’s parents earlier,” I say. Even as I let go of the words, they feel lighter than I expected. “I told them about—about everything that happened.” Then, swallowing, I go on, “It went…well.”

Juliet’s brows twitch a bit higher, waiting for me to continue.

“They like you,” I tell her with a grudging smile.

And even though I know this isn’t what she expected to hear, her eyes brighten. “Do they? Did you tell them about me?”

Heat creeps up my neck, probably a red flush over my skin. “Just in passing,” I mutter, looking forward again and resuming our stroll.

Juliet joins me, but she’s not looking forward; she’s skipping along beside me, my hand now clasped in both of hers. “Did you tell them I’m delightful?” she says, and even though my gaze is fixed ahead of me, I can see her joy in the corner of my vision. “Did you tell them I’ve swept you off your feet?”

“I told them you’re a pain,” I grumble, wincing as her grip on me grows tighter. I hesitate and then tell the truth. “But yes, I told them that you’re sweeping me off my feet all the same.”

She hops into my path and beams up at me. “You like me,” she says. Then she scrunches up her face and lowers her voice in mocking imitation of mine. “‘I’m never going tofall in love with you, Miss Marigold.’ That’s what you said. But look at us now!” Her smile is back. “You like me. Say it.”

“I’m interested in you,” I correct her. “I find myself thinking about you. I want to get to know you better. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Boo.” She pouts. “You’re no fun.”

I shrug. “Would you rather be led on only to reach a dead end? What if you and I end up being incompatible?” I point out. “What if we get to know each other better and decide we’re not a good fit?”

She heaves a dramatic sigh, and I force my gaze away from the rise and fall of her chest.

“I suppose you’re right,” she says. She pauses and then looks at me. “So…what now?”

“Now we spend time together,” I say.

“We’vebeenspending time together.”

I nod. “We keep doing that.”

“On dates?” she says eagerly. She’s practically bouncing on her toes—because she’s excited.

Someone this full of light, this clever, thisgood,is genuinely excited. To dateme.

I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all.

But my lips twitch all the same. “Dates are part of it, yes.”

“Excellent,” she says. “Because I want to take you to my favorite bakery, and there’s a little bookstore right next to it. I think you could use some romance novels in your life, you know?”

I shrug. “I’d read a romance novel, if I had time.” Then I hesitate, searching my words carefully, until I finally find the ones I want. “Do they have audiobooks?That’s what I prefer.”

She shoots me a surprised smile. “Me too,” she says. “Yes, they do.” She tugs on my hand, and we continue walking. “Speaking of audiobooks. I’ve actually been thinking about what I want to do. With my life, I mean,” she goes on. “I took that assessment, but it suggested something in social work or psychology, and I don’t want to do that. It would be too heavy. I wouldn’t be able to compartmentalize the way I would need to.” She hesitates, swinging our clasped hands in between the two of us, and I wait for her to speak.

“I’ve sort of been noticing, though…” she finally says. Then she shrugs. “I like what I’m doing here. I know what I’ve been helping you with isn’t the extent of public relations, and I know it’s different because I know you. But I thought I might look more into work that requires people skills.”

“Giving up on the dance thing?” I’m not sure asking this question is a good idea, but I do it anyway.

“No,” she says, and I’m surprised when she laughs. “If another job presented itself, I’d take it. I loved teaching dance. I’d even like to open my own studio someday, if I had the funds and the space. But that’s not in the cards right now.”

“It’s something you could do in the future, though,” I say with a twitch of my shoulders. “If you saved and worked toward all those things. It wouldn’t be impossible. You like cooking, too—you could do something there.”

“Baking,” she corrects me. “I like baking. And yes, I’d love a job doing that, too.” She hums as our pace slows to something easier, more leisurely. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’m feeling very optimistic about the paths I could take.”

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