Page 73 of Play With Me

That used to be my place. Mind her well—she’s precious to us both, she is.

“She’s down this way,” I said, nodding ahead.

“I know where she is,” Ciara said. “I came here last week.”

“She spent a fortune on hot chocolate,” my mom added mildly.

We rounded the corner, and there it was—Louisa’s booth stood out, warm and welcoming even from a distance. Not flashy. Cozy—the kind of place you drifted toward without realizing you were doing it.

I smiled to myself as we drew nearer. She would love that I thought her booth was cozy. Louisa was behind the table, hair piled up messily, apron tied at the waist, hands moving as she talked to a couple holding matching mugs. She laughed at something the woman said, then reached for a piece and turned it slowly so they could see the glaze catch the light.

Mom made a little sound. “She’s busy.”

“That’s a good thing,” I said. “She’ll sell more this month than she does at other markets the rest of the year.”

Lou looked up then, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. When she spotted us, her whole face changed. She waved like a maniac. I probably looked like one, too, with how hard I was smiling.

“I brought the full entourage.” I tried to sound cool and failed.

“I see that.” Her eyes were bright. She looked happy to see us. To see me. We stared at each other for just a moment too long; we couldn’t do this dance forever, but it felt so good and so fucking fragile. Worth protecting.

My mom smiled at me knowingly, already drifting closer to the display. “You’ve outdone yerself, deary.” She was careful with her hands. “These are absolutely beautiful.”

Lou’s shoulders softened. “Thank you. I actually made a series just for you,” she said, turning to dig through her bag but still talking excitedly. “It almost entirely sold out when Rachel was running the booth, and I was lucky to save the last one. I’m not sure I could replicate the glaze effect…” she drifted off as she placed a small pot in my mom’s hands.

I watched my mom’s face fill with recognition and something gentle. She touched a carving on the face and the glaze that dripped over it, making the design pop. I stepped closer and looked over her shoulder as she turned it upside down to reveal the potter’s mark on the bottom before righting it again.

“It’s a triskele,” Mom said, looking up at me. Then to Lou, “It’s lovely, Louisa. I’m not surprised you sold out. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Lou was pleased. Like a cat getting scratched behind the ears.

People moved around us in a steady stream, stopping, browsing, asking questions. She slipped easily between them and us, greeting repeat customers, explaining techniques, directing traffic with a kind of calm authority that never tipped into stress.

I stood off to the side, watching her work. I could stand here all night. The glow of the white lights surrounding her booth made her skin glitter with even more gold than usual. She was different here—not a different person, exactly, just more complete. Like in this space, she could be confident, capable, warm. Like she was at the gala. La Rosa de Bayahibe in her natural habitat.

“She’s very good, Liam,” my mom said quietly.

“I know.”

Ciara nudged me with her elbow. “You are being very obvious right now.”

“Shut up, Keer.”

“I mean it,” she whispered. “You’re in love with her.”

I didn’t answer.

Ciara leaned her head against my arm. “She’ll be here when you get back, Li.”

By the time the rush slowed, my family had drifted over to the display set up to advertise Never Starve. Lou came around the table and handed my sisters two small wrapped packages.

“For not heckling me too much,” she said.

Siobhan snorted. “Oh, we were just about to warm up.”

“Now I feel bad. I had some good ones planned,” Ciara said. “‘Your pottery’s just pretty dirt!’” she tried, laughing.

Lou geeked a little; she loved being teased. My sisters thanked her politely, then she turned to me, tilting her head. “You hungry?”