Page 61 of Business Casual
“Do you like the work?” Lucy asks. “At the farm. Is it something you enjoy?”
“It is.” I like waking up and hearing birds in the trees. I like standing at the back window of the guest cottage and watching the fireflies dance. I like walking over to the bakehouse and having a cup of coffee with Caleb while Layla bustles around the kitchen. I like working the register and knowing every single person who walks through the door. I like bothering Beckett into talking to me. I like feeling like I belong, even if it’s not exactly the truth. “It doesn’t feel like work at all.”
“The best sort.” Lucy smiles, rubbing her fingertips against her nose the same way Beckett does. “Maybe you should consider a career change.”
“But then what would I do with all of my suits?” I grin and take the salad bowl Evie offers me. “Nah, this is temporary. I’m just giving Stella the break she deserves.”
“And what do you deserve?”
I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. Conversation on theother end of the table has resumed, picking up volume. Evelyn is draped over Beckett’s shoulders with both of her arms wrapped around his neck, their fingers threaded together, both of their attention fixed on Harper and whatever point she’s trying to illustrate with a bowl the size of her head curled in her arms.
Lucy’s doesn’t waver, her chin resting against her knuckles.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“What do you deserve, Charlie?”
“I—I don’t know.” I laugh. I try to deflect from how lost I am with that question. “I certainly don’t deserve this dinner, I know that.”
I’m not just talking about the buffalo mac and cheese that tastes so good it should be illegal. I’m talking about the invitation, sitting here. Having a place carved out for me, no matter how temporary. Handed dishes and asked questions and folded into the easy interaction of a family that loves each other. It’s like sitting in front of a fire and feeling the brush of warmth. Being here at the edge of it has me feeling homesick for a place I’ve never been.
Lucy’s smile dims, understanding in the lines of her face. “Well then, maybe you should try to figure it out.”
“Your mac and cheese recipe?”
At the other end of the table, Nova leans over Vanessa to stick her fork in Harper’s bowl. All three of them descend into bright, cackling laughter. I yank my eyes away.
“No, Charlie.” Lucy hands me another bowl. “How to accept things without wondering what you’ve done to deserve them.”
14
NOVA
“What’s going onwith you?”
I hand Beckett another dish, soap suds up to my elbows. He’d been quiet throughout dinner, more so than usual. He typically keeps to himself, especially when we’re all together and loud, but something seems off tonight. He keeps shooting me concerned glances out of the corner of his eye like I’m about to collapse to the floor in hysterics.
Does he know what I did with Charlie? Is he mad about it?
Do I care?
“What do you mean?” he asks slowly, dragging the dish towel along the corners of the casserole dish.
“I mean you keep giving me puppy eyes.” I turn to him and exaggerate a frown. “Like that. What’s up?”
He gives me another quick, quiet look, his mouth turned down at the corners. I want to dig my finger into his cheek and screamSEE. But I don’t. I just keep washing the serving spoon Harper was using as her own personal utensil and wait for Beckett to say something.
“When was the last time you had a headache?”
“Do you mean a migraine, or do you mean a headache?”
“Migraine,” he corrects, voice lower like he’s afraid to say the word too loud.
I wish my migraines felt like headaches. Instead, it’s a full bodyexperience. When I was a kid, Beckett and my sisters helped me through them. I don’t think they’ve been able to let that go. They still see me as someone they need to take care of.
“Not lately,” I answer, evasive.
Beckett isn’t having it. “Nova.”
