Page 50 of Make You Mine

I didn’t hear the door shut, and it’s not as if this house is soundproof. My stomach tenses, but before I can move, there’s atapat the door.

It’s already ajar, so the sound makes me jump.

Chelsea stands in the doorway with a tray in her hands.

“I fixed you lunch,” she says with an almost saccharine smile. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

Her tone is bright and cheerful, but there’s something disarming about the way she’s appeared so suddenly that’s thrown me off. I hadn’t heard her come inside. I hadn’t even realized the garden door opened. I blink at her for a second too long.

“Oh… uh… thanks.” I force a smile, even as shock pricks the hairs on the back of my neck. “That’s very… thoughtful of you.”

She steps in and places the tray on my desk. It’s a sandwich cut without the crusts like I prefer, chips, even a slice of fruit on the side.

“I told Willow to change out of her play clothes,” she murmurs, brushing invisible lint off her cardigan sleeve. “She got a bit muddy.”

“Okay. Thanks,” I repeat. I pick up a potato chip and bite into it more out of distraction than anything else. She’s lingering in the room like she’s waiting for something.

I don’t ask if she heard my call with Declan. I already know there’s a good chance she might’ve caught traces of it.

If she didn’t, it’s the residual tension the family trip to Scotland that’s leftover.

She proves this to be the case only a second later by making conversation about it.

“How’s packing coming along?” she asks. “It’s all Willow’s gone on about today, bless her. She’s so excited.”

“You mean for Scotland? We haven’t even started. It’s still on our to-do list.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I’m always happy to lighten your load.”

She’s about to turn away when I think of a question to ask. “Hey, Chelsea. Whatever happened to your crush? Did anything ever come of it?”

“Oh. Him. Erm, it was just wishful thinking,” she says, tucking hair behind her ear. Her cheeks tint a rosy pink. “I told you I’m more of a loner than anything. Part of why I don’t mind being here so much.”

“What about your family? You don’t talk about them often.”

She goes rigid, shifting weight from one foot to the other. “I told you my family is small. It was just me and my sister growing up. She and my folks live hours away.”

“You should visit. It would be good for you. Something other than work, you know?”

The suggestion seems to agitate her. Her jaw tics as she gives a stiff nod and then about faces and scurries out of the room.

It’s the last I hear from her for the rest of the afternoon. For the rest of her shift she tends to the garden and other chores around the house. But I get the sense bringing up her family caught her more off guard than she’d like to admit.

It seems Chelsea Hughes, for whatever reason, doesn’t like the topic. She doesn’t like it at all.

At dinner that night, Willow has Declan and me cracking up over how excited she is about Scotland.

“Is it true the men wear skirts?” she asks innocently, gripping a forkful of mashed potatoes between her little fingers. “Daddy, are you gonna wear one too?”

Declan almost chokes on his bite of meatloaf, pounding a fist to his chest. “If your mum lets me. But don’t hold your breath, Widget.”

His emerald eyes gleam sneaking a playful look across the table at me. I can’t help smirking back at him as I sip from my low-sugar cranberry juice. Willow misses the flirtation taking place, obliviously moving onto the next topic on her inquisitive mind.

“When we get there, can I ride a unicorn? Pretty please!”

That gets us laughing all over again, but she’s definitely serious. It’s even funnier considering unicornsarethe national animal of Scotland, and Willow clearly knows this at age five.

“My baby is so smart,” I say, reaching over and affectionately stroking her chin. “Tell you what. You absolutelycanride a unicorn if we see one while we’re there.”

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