Page 94 of Ashes of Us

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I was probably coming across as desperate.

But she kept smiling when I walked in, kept asking about my day, and kept refilling my coffee without me having to ask.

That had to mean something too.

I showedup at 5:45 PM on a Wednesday and saw her flipping the CLOSED sign.

Shit. Bad timing.

But Piper saw me through the glass. She walked over and unlocked the door.

"Bad timing?" I asked.

"Megan had an exam. I'm just cleaning up."

I should have said goodnight and let her close in peace.

"Need help?" I asked instead.

She hesitated, just for a second, and then…

"Sure. If you want."

I wanted.

I shrugged off my jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and tried not to notice how good it felt to be in her space after hours. Just the two of us and the quiet hum of the refrigerator cases.

"Broom?" I asked.

"Back closet. Left side."

"Cleaning spray?"

"Under the sink."

I worked around her carefully. Lifting chairs while she wiped counters. Sweeping while she counted the register. Learning the geography of her space by asking instead of assuming.

Her playlist filtered through the speakers. Norah Jones. Leon Bridges. The kind of music she used to play on Sunday mornings when we'd cook breakfast together.

"This is good," I said. "Very you."

"How so?"

"Mostly indie, some old soul mixed in. That thing you do where you pair opposites that somehow work together." I glanced at her. "Like lemon and lavender."

Her hands stilled on the counter. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Lemon and lavender… that was one of combinations we’d been discussing for the wedding cake.

"You've been paying attention," she said quietly.

"Hard not to when I'm here three times a week."

The air shifted and got heavier. She scrubbed at the counter harder than necessary, focused on some invisible stain.

I grabbed the rag she'd asked for earlier, then stepped closer to hand it to her.

Our fingers brushed when she reached for it.

Neither of us moved.

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