A knock pulled me from my thoughts. As usual, Stella didn’t wait for permission before opening the door and walking in. She’d been doing that a lot today. My guess was, she had something on her mind, but I wasn’t going to be the one to open that can of worms.
“I’m getting ready to leave for the day.”
“Okay,” I said, returning my attention to my screen and the notes I’d been typing on an upcoming mediation. “Did you finish that transcript?”
“Yes. I put it in the case file.”
I nodded. “Thank you. Have a good night.”
In my mind, the conversation was over. Apparently, I was wrong.
“Staying late again?” Stella asked, much closer than she’d been only a minute or two earlier.
A cloud of perfume assaulted my nose, stronger than usual.
I tried not to sneeze as my fingers tapped out more words. “That’s the plan.”
“Another dinner meeting?” Her biting, almost accusatory tone made me pause.
I turned to find her next to me, leaning against my desk, arms crossed.
“Excuse me?”
“There were takeout containers in the conference room trash this morning.”
I blinked, surprised that, one, she’d been looking in the trash, and two, she thought anything I did in the office after hours was her concern. I was already on the verge of cranky and didn’t appreciate having to explain myself.
“I get takeout most nights. You know that.”
“Last week there were enough for two.”
I thought back to why that might be, recalling my sister’s unexpected visit with some effort. The days were melting together. I’d spent the entire weekend at the office, with the exception of those few hours on Sunday in which I’d made a mandatory appearance at Mama C’s.
“Gina stopped by with food on her way to the library. I told her she could use the conference room.”
Stella’s features visibly relaxed. “Oh. That makes sense. Is she coming by again tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You know, I could pick up some takeout and bring it back here.”
Warning bells tolled in the back of my mind, right along with the echo of my sister’s words. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I’ll pick something up later.”
“You sure? I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure. Good night, Stella.”
I turned back to my computer. She hovered for a few moments and then let herself out. The moment the door closed, I sat back and exhaled. It looked as if Gina might have been right about Stella after all.
How had that even happened? As far as I knew, I hadn’t said or done anything that would suggest I was interested in something more than a purely professional, working relationship. I didn’t have time for a social life. My job was my life, and honestly, after seeing the dark side of relationships day in and day out, I was perfectly okay with that.
Additionally, I had yet to meet a woman who made me reconsider my all-work-and-no-play bachelor plan.
Oh, I wasn’t a complete nonbeliever in happily ever afters. I knew there were successful relationships out there. My parents were a perfect example, as were my grandparents. And more recently, two of my brothers had found their right ones too. But me? Cupido had yet to shoot an arrow into my ass, I was happy to say.
Once again, an image of Allison Kearney popped into my head. Sea-green eyes sparkling with intelligence and concern. Conservatively and professionally dressed. Classically pretty. Well-spoken. Overall, she’d made a great first impression on me.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think I’d made a favorable impression on her. It irked me, enough that I was having trouble concentrating. I needed to get out of the office for a little while. Maybe some food and fresh air would help clear my head enough, so I could come back later and actually get something done.
I locked up and exited the building, pleased to see that there was still some daylight left, and started walking without a specific destination in mind. I stopped at Manetti’s, the convenience store not too far from my building, and grabbed a hoagie and a bag of chips.
Dinner of champions. Or overworked counselors who didn’t have a life outside the office.
I wasn’t ready to head right back, however. Earlier passing showers had left the air smelling fresh and noticeably cooler. I decided to walk a few more blocks instead, my feet subconsciously carrying me toward my grandparents’ bookstore.
The comforting scents of fresh espresso and my nonna’s baked goods lingered in the air along with old wood and the tens of thousands of books housed among the shelves. My nonno was busy helping a customer, but he looked up when I stepped in and offered a wave.
I spotted my brother Nick over in his usual corner. As always, he had his laptop open and a cup of coffee on the table beside him, focused on penning—typing—his next best seller. He didn’t look away from his screen for a good five minutes after I sat down. I envied his powers of concentration, especially since mine seemed to be sorely lacking.
I waited patiently for him to notice me, taking advantage of the impromptu downtime by sinking back into the comfy chair, closing my eyes, and letting the ambiance siphon off some of the stress. Unsurprisingly, an image of Allison Kearney painted the backs of my lids.
“What’s wrong?”
I opened one eye to find Nick looking at me with concern. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“Because you only come here when you’re stressed out.”
“That’s not true.”
He raised an eyebrow. Okay, it was kind of true. I wasn’t the type of guy who catnapped in bookstores.
He smirked. “What’s her name?”
“I think that romance-author mentality is rotting your brain. Why does it have to be about a woman?”
He laughed. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
He wasn’t wrong. The quietest and arguably the most levelheaded of my siblings, he was also an excellent sounding board, so I gave
