Page 29 of Only and Forever
“Wait.” The noodles and chopsticks drop to her plate. “Youmadethose coffee mugs?”
“Well, they’re for tea, too. Pottery is very therapeutic. Ever tried it?”
I’m ignored. “You reupholstered the chairs?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“Sewedthe coasters?” Her voice is an octave higher.
“Crocheted, technically.”
“What else did you do? Hand blow the light fixtures?”
“Nah, fire and I don’t mix well. I tried my hand at glass blowing one summer up at the A-frame and nearly burned down Axel’s art shed before he had his own studio. I have never run so fast in my life as I ran from that man.”
She shakes her head, bewildered.
“I baked the pastries I’ll be selling, too.”
Her hands fly up, her arms lifted in a gesture of helplessness. “That’s like five people’s jobs.”
“I’m aware. I’ve been doing them.”
“And you’re skin and bones,” she snaps, poking my chest across the table. “You look exhausted, and you’re not eating and...” She makes an aggravated little noise in her throat, stabs her noodles with her chopsticks, then shoves a bite of food into her mouth.
I smile, warmth blooming through me. “Tallulah Clarke. You sound an awful lot like you care about my well-being.”
She wrinkles her nose, scowling at me. “I’m simply observing the facts.”
I watch her, wondering what this new side of her is, a theory forming. Tallulah sure acts chilly and detached. But maybe she’snot. Or, at least, not nearly as much as she lets on. Maybe Tallulah cares. Maybe she just doesn’t feel comfortable showing it. Maybe she’s afraid of what happens when she loses her cool, gets worked up, shows her cards.
I watch Tallulah poke around her noodles and knock a knee with hers under the table. Tallulah glances up, her expression guarded.
“You’re right,” I concede. “I messed up. I should have budgeted differently. And now it’s biting me in the ass.”
She shakes her head. She is appalled by this logistical nightmare. The evidence that she cares just makes me smile. “Now what are you going to do?” she asks quietly.
“Don’t know.” I shrug. “But I’ll figure it out. I have before, and I can do it again. I tend to paint myself into tight corners fairly often, but I always find an out, one way or another.”
Her eyes search mine. “Isn’t that exhausting, though? To constantly be on that precipice?”
More than I can even explain.
I tug my ball cap down. “No mystery why I sleep like a rock.”
This time her knee knocks mine. I peer up. “What about that big family of yours?” she asks. “The many friends I’m sure you have. None of them can help you?”
“They’re all busy, Lu. They’ve got full lives, demanding jobs, kids. I couldn’t ask them. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. BecauseIdid this. I put myself in this position. It’s my responsibility to deal with the consequences.”
Tallulah’s quiet, fiddling with her chopsticks. And then she says the last thing I ever expected:
“Icould help you.”
EIGHT
Viggo
Playlist: “Graveclothes,” Birdtalker