The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(37)

“Don’t apologize. Things happen. It’s not your fault.”

It’s rarely anyone’s fault. But things do happen.

They happen all the time.

“Are you up for hand-calculating discounts? I feel like today’s a hot mess day. Twenty percent off all hot mess merchandise paid for in cash.”

“Appropriate.” Yasmin smiles at me, but it’s a stressed smile.

Sort of like my budget might be this week if we can’t take credit cards all weekend.

Brittany drops Piper off while I’m trying to restart our internet connection, and I manage to get Mrs. Schneider to watch the kids the rest of the day. Zoe misses gymnastics. Hudson misses his little ninjas class, and also Zoe’s gymnastics, where her instructors let him play to his heart’s content on a spare mat to get his energy out.

I’m on the phone for five hours, mostly on hold, with the companies who should be able to help us get back up and running.

And I swear the shop’s busier for a Saturday than it usually is.

We close an hour early when it becomes clear we’re dealing with more frustrated customers than customers that we’re making happy, and that the issue won’t be fixed today. I get my kids takeout from a greasy spoon down the street, and we walk a couple blocks to a park so Hudson can run until it gets dark, which will unfortunately be too soon.

And all the while, as I’m huddling on a park bench in the chilly November weather, I’m wondering little questions.

Were we busier than normal today, or was that in my head? And if we were, was it because Nora Dawn’s been talking us up in her reader group, because the Fireballs players came by for book club, because holiday shopping season is creeping up soon, or because rumors are going around that Levi’s been at the store too?

The moms at hockey practice knew it, and it’s not like my store is the thing any of them randomly think about during the week. They have their own lives that are just as hectic as mine.

And speaking of Levi—he texts me as we’re walking home from the park.

Someone just handed me an oatmeal raisin cookie. Made me think of you.

I’m both smiling and wrestling with myself at the same time.

Do I call him and ask if he’s telling people to go to my store?

Or is that super presumptuous of me?

Screw it.

I’m calling.

That’s why I have his number, right?

As soon as I get the kids inside, I tell the girls to get Hudson in the bath, then duck into my bedroom and dial Levi. I don’t expect him to answer—if someone’s offering him cookies, he’s not alone—but his voice tickles my ear almost immediately. “Hey. This is a nice surprise.”

“I had a shitty day and needed a friendly voice.”

Huh. Not sure where that came from, but it’s true.

“Glad to be of service. Tell me nobody broke any bones.” I can practically hear him smiling. Is that weird? That’s definitely weird. I don’t know him that well yet.

Do I?

“No, but the day’s not over. Just… our software went on the fritz at the store so it was…interesting to say the least, and I swear there were twice as many people as there would be on a normal Saturday…”

He clears his throat.

And yeah, it’s the awkward throat-clear. Not the I have something in there clear, but the I don’t know what to say so I’ll make an awkward noise clear.

“Levi. Please tell me you’re not sending people here. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t have the staff for a bigger crowd on a regular basis, and I don’t want to hire someone if interest is going to peter out, plus, people will start putting two and two together. All the moms at hockey this morning saw a picture of you at book club the other night, and now they’re asking tons of questions, and I don’t want this to sound super rude, but I thought we agreed we’d be a secret. My kids—”

“Ingrid. I didn’t tell a soul.”

“You…oh. Sorry. I—”

“But I was dumb to show up the other night. You’re right. That wasn’t my brightest idea.”

I sink onto my bed. The kids are arguing, which means none of them are bleeding or drowning, so I let myself have another minute. “I did like seeing you.”

“I’m very much looking forward to seeing you again.”

I smile so big my cheeks almost crack.

“A secret, huh?” he adds.

My face has been replaced with the sun and is now going to melt from the inside out. “That…wasn’t the exact word either of us used earlier, was it?”

“No, but I like being a secret. You don’t get many when you live in the public eye. And I don’t want you having to deal with the crap that comes from your every move being scrutinized. Or with staffing and inventory issues.”

“I’m wearing mismatched sneakers.”

His laughter is silk and chocolate. “Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

A noise that sounds like children chasing a baby squirrel echoes through the hallway, and I stifle a groan. “I need to go. Kids. Squirrel. Bath time. Sorry I freaked on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. My life’s weird sometimes. But for the record—was one day of a busy store a bad thing?”

“It was since we couldn’t take credit cards all day.”