every day. So—” she crossed her arms and shrugged “—you’ll go your way and I’ll go mine. We’ll hardly see each other. And before we know it, this’ll all be over. You’ll go back to Boston and Gillian.” She started to turn away.
“Not Gillian.”
Tabby looked back at him. Her skin was as creamy as the cameo his mother had let him play with during church when he was a kid so he’d sit still in the pew.
“She’s not part of my life anymore,” he said bluntly. “We broke up. For good this time.” He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected. But he did know it wasn’t the musing little “hmm” he got. “Six months ago,” he added for good measure.
“She’s still your boss’s daughter?”
He didn’t answer. Obviously, Gillian was still Charles’s daughter.
Tabby wasn’t done, though. “You’re still both working at CNJ?” She started walking toward her doorway. “Then she’s not out of your life,” she said without looking back.
Justin opened his mouth to argue, but he didn’t.
Tabby reached her door. Opened it and disappeared inside. A moment later, the light shining through her curtains was extinguished.
He stood there in the dark for a long while, listening to the silence.
In Boston, where he had a dinky apartment with an exorbitant rent in the South End, there was never such a wealth of silence.
He’d always thought that was a good thing. Everything about Boston had energized him. The city. Grad school. His work. His tumultuous relationship with Gillian.
He looked up at the sky. It was mostly cloudy, allowing only a stingy stream of moonlight. But on a clear night, he knew the stars would be laid out like a thick, sparkling carpet.
When they’d been young, he, Tabby and Caleb had often camped out behind her parents’ house. They’d pitch a tent and everything, though they usually ended up pulling their sleeping bags out of the tent. They’d fall asleep under the stars, amid ghost stories and trying to figure out the constellations.
Caleb had been the best at identifying them. Tabby’s artistic eye had usually seen something else in the stars—a bunch of dancing fairies and such.
Justin had seen cities. And skyscrapers.
Even then, he’d been thinking about someplace else. A place where everyone in town didn’t know the name of everyone else in town. And certainly didn’t know their business. Where a person could walk down the street in complete anonymity if he wanted. Where tumbleweeds didn’t travel down the center of Main Street more frequently than cars.
He shook the thoughts out of his head.
Then he unlocked his truck, tossed the bedsheets onto the bench seat beside him and drove out to Shop-World.
He could have survived a night without sheets. But in the morning, he was gonna need coffee. And even though he had ample justification to stop by the café to get a cup on his way to the hospital—they were spitting distance from one another, practically—he figured he and Tabby both would be better off if he gave Ruby’s a wide berth.
At least for a while.
Chapter Five
O n Monday, Tabby dragged the box of Christmas decorations out of storage and turned the radio station to one that played only holiday music.
It would drive some of her customers a little bananas at first. But after a week or so, they’d be humming along with the music, too.
She was hoping that the decorations and the music would immediately put her in a more cheerful state of mind. Ordinarily, once she got past the hurdle of Justin’s brief Thanksgiving visit, she would throw herself into the Christmas spirit. She was determined that this year was going to be no different.
Even if the hurdle happened to be a living, breathing obstacle temporarily residing all but next door to her.
So what if her humming along with “White Christmas” sounded a little manic? She was the only one who knew the reason why.
By the time Bubba arrived and fired up the grill, she had green garland
“Not Gillian.”
Tabby looked back at him. Her skin was as creamy as the cameo his mother had let him play with during church when he was a kid so he’d sit still in the pew.
“She’s not part of my life anymore,” he said bluntly. “We broke up. For good this time.” He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected. But he did know it wasn’t the musing little “hmm” he got. “Six months ago,” he added for good measure.
“She’s still your boss’s daughter?”
He didn’t answer. Obviously, Gillian was still Charles’s daughter.
Tabby wasn’t done, though. “You’re still both working at CNJ?” She started walking toward her doorway. “Then she’s not out of your life,” she said without looking back.
Justin opened his mouth to argue, but he didn’t.
Tabby reached her door. Opened it and disappeared inside. A moment later, the light shining through her curtains was extinguished.
He stood there in the dark for a long while, listening to the silence.
In Boston, where he had a dinky apartment with an exorbitant rent in the South End, there was never such a wealth of silence.
He’d always thought that was a good thing. Everything about Boston had energized him. The city. Grad school. His work. His tumultuous relationship with Gillian.
He looked up at the sky. It was mostly cloudy, allowing only a stingy stream of moonlight. But on a clear night, he knew the stars would be laid out like a thick, sparkling carpet.
When they’d been young, he, Tabby and Caleb had often camped out behind her parents’ house. They’d pitch a tent and everything, though they usually ended up pulling their sleeping bags out of the tent. They’d fall asleep under the stars, amid ghost stories and trying to figure out the constellations.
Caleb had been the best at identifying them. Tabby’s artistic eye had usually seen something else in the stars—a bunch of dancing fairies and such.
Justin had seen cities. And skyscrapers.
Even then, he’d been thinking about someplace else. A place where everyone in town didn’t know the name of everyone else in town. And certainly didn’t know their business. Where a person could walk down the street in complete anonymity if he wanted. Where tumbleweeds didn’t travel down the center of Main Street more frequently than cars.
He shook the thoughts out of his head.
Then he unlocked his truck, tossed the bedsheets onto the bench seat beside him and drove out to Shop-World.
He could have survived a night without sheets. But in the morning, he was gonna need coffee. And even though he had ample justification to stop by the café to get a cup on his way to the hospital—they were spitting distance from one another, practically—he figured he and Tabby both would be better off if he gave Ruby’s a wide berth.
At least for a while.
Chapter Five
O n Monday, Tabby dragged the box of Christmas decorations out of storage and turned the radio station to one that played only holiday music.
It would drive some of her customers a little bananas at first. But after a week or so, they’d be humming along with the music, too.
She was hoping that the decorations and the music would immediately put her in a more cheerful state of mind. Ordinarily, once she got past the hurdle of Justin’s brief Thanksgiving visit, she would throw herself into the Christmas spirit. She was determined that this year was going to be no different.
Even if the hurdle happened to be a living, breathing obstacle temporarily residing all but next door to her.
So what if her humming along with “White Christmas” sounded a little manic? She was the only one who knew the reason why.
By the time Bubba arrived and fired up the grill, she had green garland
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