“Your outfit. You finally look like one of us,” he said, that familiar amusement hiding behind his eyes. “Not that I don’t like the other outfits. This just seems more you.” The corners of his mouth turned up, and his grin unleashed an unexpected swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
The problem was that it wasn’t her at all. Not anymore. She didn’t feel any more comfortable in these clothes than she had in the others, but for different reasons.
“You miss Pop,” Pete said. “Glad you’re not heartless at least.”
She could feel the sting of sadness, and she tried not to let it show. “I missed him so much,” she said. “I missed you both so much.” She wished she could sit him down right there and tell him everything she was feeling: how she’d cried about leaving him, how empty she’d felt for so long, how much she’d wanted to be with him.
Pete didn’t respond to her comment, but she could see his face become calm, his eyes moving in thought. His jaw wasn’t clenched anymore like it had been the other times she’d seen him, and the line between his eyes was gone. Perhaps she was getting through to him.
“Found them!” Hugh scuffled toward Libby and Pete, a small bag dangling from his fingers. Then he stopped and held the bag unusually far from himself and squinched up his nose. “How much are they?”
“It’s fine, Pop. I’ve got it.”
“Nope! No, no, no. I can pay for it, son. How much is it?”
“Three dollars and some change.” Pete gave Libby a conspiratorial glance, and they both had to hide their grin, for they both knew how stubborn Hugh Roberts could be. With all the other changes in him clearly, that trait had held on. The common ground gave her a floating sensation, as if all their issues were pulled from her shoulders in that one moment. Pete was smiling. At her. There was nothing better than that. Even if, once Pop wasn’t there, they still had the same problems, it gave her a chance to feel good, and she hadn’t had that in a long time.
Even though she still needed to get the wallpaper stripping liquid and a few things for the cottage, Libby walked with them to the register where Hugh paid for his nails. The same mustached man from the other day handed him his change. “So, my boy, should we leave Libby to her shopping?”
Pete looked straight at her, right into her eyes, and it was as if they were the only two there. “Maybe,” he said. The word had come out like Maybe we should, but Libby wondered if he really meant their maybe. Did he not want to leave her? She kept her face clear of any emotion just in case it was all in her head.
“You’ll have to stop by the house sometime,” Hugh said, embracing her to say goodbye.
Libby nodded and smiled, unsure of an appropriate response to that suggestion.
“Well, give her a hug then and we’ll be on our way!” Hugh said.
Tension zinged through her. Pete let out a nervous-sounding chuckle but took a step toward her, putting his arms around her. Then, to her surprise, he pulled her close just like he had so many years ago, his lips on the top of her head, her face nestled into his chest—it was only an instant, and then it was done. He’d pulled away before she’d even had a chance to really register the feeling. Unexpectedly, all the emotions from the last few weeks flooded her body, and tears surfaced in her eyes again.
Libby had so many feelings when it came to Pete: sadness because she missed his protective nature, the way he made her feel like nothing would ever hurt her; complete joy at seeing him again; anxiety because of how he felt about her now. She didn’t want him to hate her, but just that tiny glimpse of how he used to be with her made everything more difficult than it had ever been. The more he let her in, the harder it would be to leave. She wasn’t eighteen anymore, and this time she knew exactly what she was leaving. She didn’t want to repeat the feeling she’d had the last time she’d left, knowing that she’d never get to be with him again. She couldn’t bear it after everything else that had happened. She pushed her tears away.
“See ya,” he said. She could tell he had noticed her tears despite her effort to hide them. Hugh patted him on the back. The receipt for the nails floated off the counter and down to the floor where it rested, exposed on the empty concrete. Libby picked it up as Pete and Hugh walked through the door, neither one of them looking back. She folded it and slid it into her pocket. Pete wasn’t as angry anymore; she could feel it. That memory needed to be kept, so Pop’s receipt was destined for her memory box.
Chapter Ten
“A firm” had been a generous description of Marty’s business. The only people there were Marty, his receptionist called Janet, and Libby. Marty Bruin was shorter than Libby, had unmanageably curly hair, and twitched a lot when he spoke, making him appear nervous when he probably wasn’t. That was the great thing about accounting, however; one didn’t have to be a people person. He was pleasant and cheerful, and he’d given her a desk by the window, which was gracious of him since there were only two windows—the other being by the reception area.