His words come faster than usual and he seems almost…nervous? It’s kind of adorable.

  “I told her you’d probably say you didn’t need a thank-you since she’s paying you, so I offered to buy it as her first official sale in the new store and give it to you from both of us.”

  I’m stunned speechless by his thoughtfulness. He still looks a bit apprehensive, so I pick up the box and hug it against my chest, admiring the quick grin that spreads on his face. “I love it. Thank you—both of you. You paid for dinner and drinks, so you shouldn’t have done this too.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he says, waving me off with one hand. “I get that money stuff can be uncomfortable and awkward, but to me, this is part of what friends do for each other.”

  “Well, thanks.” Without thinking, I set the box down and close the space between us to hug him. I intend for it to be quick, but Leland wraps his arms around me, dropping his chin onto my shoulder and giving my back a series of gentle pats. Between thoughts of Leland’s generosity and kindness, and now his proximity, my brain goes haywire. I pull away, trying to cover any awkwardness by saying, “Dinner’s on me when I get my first paycheck.”

  “Deal.”

  We settle on the couch and Leland starts unpacking the bags of food. “I decided on tacos,” he says as he spreads everything out. “I got a bit of everything like I did at Cravings the other day since I didn’t know what you might like.”

  I stare at the array of food instead of looking at Leland. I’m afraid of what my face is doing and how he might interpret it. My cheeks are hot and my eyes are tingling, and I don’t want him to think I’m about to cry because that would be ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I’m not about to cry over all this food…except…I sort of am?

  When you’re a plus-size person, you get used to people making assumptions about you and judging you. I’ve built up enough mental armor over the years that I’ve stopped noticing when people are looking at me in the grocery store or at restaurants, but all the armor in the world didn’t protect my heart from comments about my weight or my eating habits from my own husband or from some of the people I’ve dated.

  Back in high school, when Leland first brought a plate of cookies to me in the cafeteria, I thought he was baiting me. My tender, bruised teenage heart and ego were braced to become the butt of a joke. It didn’t take me long to see how wrong I was about his intentions. Leland is clearly someone who likes to take care of others, and feeding people might just be one of his love languages.

  “You okay?” Leland’s hand lands softly on my forearm, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “I’m great. This all looks and smells amazing. You’re incredible for getting a variety.”

  “I mean, it’s not purely selfless.” His eyes crinkle as he grins and reaches for a plate. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, so I basically got half the things on their menu.”

  I laugh and follow his lead, loading up my plate with a breaded fish and mango slaw taco, a cheesy beef taco, a chicken taco, and some Caesar salad. I manage to squeeze a bit of pico de gallo, guacamole, and sour cream around the edges of the plate. Leland eyes my plate with a grin, picking up one of his tacos and saluting me with it before taking a bite.

  He makes a sound of appreciation that has my lips twitching around my first bite of fish taco. His eyes slip closed, then pop open again as he makes a different sound. “Almost forgot the beer! I popped into the big refrigerated room in the liquor store ’cause there’s nothing less appealing than warm beer. I got a mixed six pack.”

  I choose a Guinness Hop House 13 while Leland selects a beer from a local brewery I’ve heard Wesley talk about. We both crack open our cans and tap them together.

  “Cheers,” I say.

  “Sláinte,” Leland replies, his mouth tilting into a lopsided grin at my surprised look. “You’ve been to Ireland, right?”

  “When I traveled right after high school, yeah. I was meeting up with people I’d originally met in a hostel in Rome, and planned to just stay for a week. I loved it so much, I ended up staying for almost three months.”

  Leland nods as he puts a big spoonful of guacamole on a chicken taco. “I loved it there too. Felicity did a huge family tree project in high school and discovered a bunch of ancestors on our mom’s side were from Ireland. My first time there was on a family trip, and I’ve been a few times since. There’s just something about that country.”

  I make a sound of agreement around a mouthful of food. “The girls and I have often talked about taking a trip there together. They lived vicariously through my gap year adventures, and they were particularly taken with my stories of Ireland. When I came back home, we all got these.”

  I pull my right arm free from my cardigan to show Leland the tattoo near the bend in my elbow. “Shamrocks are more common symbols of Ireland than four-leaf clovers, but since there are four of us…”

  Leland grips my arm and leans in to inspect my tattoo. He’s so close, I can feel his warm breath on the sensitive skin of my inner arm. I suck in a breath and hold it when he slides the pad of his thumb over the tattoo. “You each have the same thing?”

  “Yep. All through our teens, we talked about getting matching tattoos, but could never agree on what we wanted. When I told them four-leaf clovers symbolize faith, love, hope, and good fortune, we knew that was it, and we decided to add our initials inside the leaves.”

  “Beautiful.” He releases my arm and I arrange my sweater back in place. We eat in silence for a few minutes before he asks, “Do you have any others? Tattoos, I mean.”

  I pull up my left sleeve to show him the small tattoo on the inside of my wrist: a shooting star with a rainbow tail. “Wesley’s nickname for me is Little Star, so I got this in his honor. I also have a phoenix in flight on my leg. I got it right after my divorce was finalized.” I focus on the food in front of me, not wanting to see if Leland’s expression changes. “Do you have any?”

  “None for me, no. I actually expected you to have more. You’re so…colorful.” He wipes his hand on a napkin and reaches out to playfully tug one of the faded turquoise streaks in my hair.

  When he releases my hair, I shift so I’m tucked into the corner of the couch, facing him, and using my lap to balance my food instead of the coffee table. “Until a few months ago, I felt like all the color had been leached out of me. But I don’t want to get too deep over tacos and beer.”

  Leland moves around until he’s mirroring my pose on the opposite end of the couch. “I’m all ears. Let’s get deep over tacos and beer. And no, I didn’t mean for that to rhyme, it was just an added bonus.”

  I cover my mouth as I laugh around a mouthful of food. Leland chuckles, toasting me once more with his can of beer before taking a swig.

  Despite the few feet of space between us, facing each other like this feels somehow intimate. I don’t talk about these things often, even with the girls, but something prompts me to tell Leland what’s on my mind.

  “Without going into too many details, my ex-husband turned out to be a very different man than I thought he was. I felt as if I’d been tricked by someone who poured on the charm to get what he wanted and then once he got it, he stopped trying. At first, I thought it was sweet and romantic that he wanted to be with me all the time. I didn’t see that he was trying to isolate me and make me depend on him. Eventually, he became controlling and possessive to the point of alienating me from my family and friends.”

  Leland’s eyes remain on me as I speak, his brows drawn together in a deep V. He’s been listening so intently, he seems to have forgotten about the taco in his hand. When I take a bite of mine, he does the same, then nods for me to go on.

  “Once I realized what was happening, I allowed it to go on. I didn’t know what else to do. I told myself it was okay because he…he didn’t abuse me physically. I couldn’t see that his behavior was a different kind of abuse. I began to believe that was just how things were and that I didn’t deserve better.”

  Leland leans forward, his jaw tightening. “Please tell me you came to realize that was untrue.”

  “I did. Even then, it took awhile to find the strength to end my marriage. By the time I came back to Bellevue, I knew I’d changed emotionally, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d also changed physically. My skin was dull, my hair was dull, my clothes were dull. My ex knew what he was getting when he married me—streaked hair, nose piercing, colorful clothes, bold lipstick—and he didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Eventually, it became a source of embarrassment for him, especially when he kept getting promoted and we started spending more time with his coworkers. Now I know him asking me to tone it down was another form of controlling me, but I went along with it to keep the peace.”

  Leland’s upper lip curls and he drops his half-eaten taco onto his plate as if he’s lost his appetite. He shakes his head, wiping his hands fiercely on a paper napkin. I set my own taco down and prepare myself to activate my mental armor. I wouldn’t have expected Leland to be like so many other guys I’ve known: sweet on the surface, but able to turn quickly into someone unrecognizable.

  “What. An absolute. Jerk.” He practically spits the last word. “I’m sorry, I know you were married to him and you must have truly loved him at some point, but god. He should have treasured you and adored you, not made you feel insecure and like you were walking on eggshells.”

  The tension in my shoulders releases, making me droop forward.

  Leland sits up straighter, reaching out as if to touch me, but hesitating before his hand makes contact. “Wait, you…you didn’t think I was mad at you, did you?”

  “Kind of?” I snatch my taco up with shaking hands and shove a giant bite into my mouth so I can’t elaborate. My plan doesn’t work, because Leland waits patiently while I chew and swallow.

  “I’ve felt a lot of judgment from various people over the years,” I tell him. “People are curious or sometimes downright nosy, and they want to know the nitty-gritty of what happened. I don’t tell many people the whole story because it’s nobody’s business, plus I don’t want anyone to pity me or see me as a victim. I made the choices that led to an unhappy marriage. I settled and accepted less than I deserved.”

  “Your ex is far from blameless, though. I hope you know that.”

  “I do.” It sounds uncertain, which wasn’t my intention, so I say it again more firmly. “It’s just that this is a pattern for me. Choosing the wrong people, settling for less when I know I deserve better.”

  “Patterns can be broken,” Leland says.

  “You’re right. And that’s what I’m attempting to do now. Our pretend relationship has actually come at the perfect time because it means I can’t date anyone else. A break from all my crappy choices and a chance to get my head on straight will be good.”

  We go back to eating, polishing off all the food Leland brought and each opening another can of beer. I take our dirty dishes to the kitchen and, by the time I come back, Leland has everything else cleared away.

  “You know about my sad love life,” I say. “Now it’s your turn to tell me about yours.”

  “Not much to tell, honestly,” Leland says. “Being on the go constantly for work didn’t leave much time for dating. I had a semi-serious girlfriend about two years ago, but she didn’t like me being away all the time, which is understandable. Hard to build a life with someone who’s rarely around.”

  “Do you think you’ll start dating now that you’re back in Bellevue?” I ask.

  He eyes me with a tiny smile. “Our arrangement might be temporary and just for show, but I’m a one-woman man.”

  The way he’s looking at me makes something tighten in my stomach. It would be far too easy for my emotions—and my hormones—to tie themselves into knots over Leland. Attempting to deflect and keep things light, I say, “I feel bad that our little ruse is keeping you from the single women of Bellevue.”

  He lets out a hearty laugh. “The women of Bellevue can wait. I’m perfectly happy being right here with you.”

  My cheeks heat and tingle, joining the sensations in the rest of my body. Whoever Leland ends up with will be incredibly lucky. He’s fun to hang out with and he’s a good listener. He’s funny, thoughtful, and generous. It doesn’t hurt that he’s extremely easy on the eyes. He’s pretty much the whole package. And for now, he’s mine, even if he isn’t really mine.

  Without thinking, I pick up the remote and turn on the TV, scrolling through shows and movies without actually seeing them. “So, what would you be doing if you weren’t with me tonight? What does a regular weeknight look like for you?”

  “Well, since I moved back to town, I’ve mostly been hanging out with Felicity. We’ve been doing a lot of prep work for the store, but we do other stuff too. We’ve both really enjoyed exploring the Village. I haven’t gone out much otherwise since I’ve been back in town. What about you?”

  “Pretty much this,” I say, waving the remote at the TV. “I’ve dated a bit since moving back, but nothing serious. Before Evie and Wesley got together, she and I spent most of our free time together. Hollie and Louisa come over a lot too. I suspect the three of them made an agreement not to eat out too often while I don’t have a job since they usually end up here with takeout or something for us to cook together.”

  “Okay, I officially need you and your friends to adopt me into your group,” Leland says.

  “Done.” My laugh turns into a gusty sigh. “I just wish it were easier, you know? Dating, I mean. I hate the thought of online dating, but meeting people the old-fashioned way seems so difficult, especially the older you get and the fewer single people there are to choose from.”

  Leland bobs his head in agreement. “It is hard. It’s hard enough making new friends at this age, but finding someone you connect with on a deeper level?” He echoes my sigh from a moment ago.

  “Exactly. Someone you genuinely like and enjoy spending time with. Someone you connect with, like you said, and can also be intimate with.” The way he side-eyes me compels me to add, “And by intimate, I don’t just mean sex. Because obviously sex.” We both laugh. “I mean stuff like letting down your guard and being your true self when you’re with that person. Also, being close and having physical contact, even if it’s just holding hands. I miss holding hands. I never seem to date people who want to hold hands.”

  When silence falls once more, I aim the remote at the TV to keep scrolling. Leland stops me with a hand on my arm. Our eyes meet and hold, and I wait expectantly. Finally, he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

  “No, what were you going to say?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Well, now you have to tell me,” I say, prodding his arm.

  He chuckles under his breath. “Okay. I know it’s not quite the same as what you were talking about, but…we could hold hands. I miss that closeness with someone too, and it’d be good practice for when we’re around other people. My mom will expect at least some PDA between us, and I’m sure people at the reunion will too.”

  “Hmm, that’s true…”

  Leland holds out his hand, palm up. I watch his face as I place my hand in his. He smiles and twines his fingers through mine. We sit like that for a minute before he shifts around to get comfortable, leaning his head on the back of the couch. I don’t know how long Leland will be staying or how much attention we’ll pay to whatever’s on the TV, so I select Friends since it’s a comfort show for me and one that’s easy to pick up at random.

  We sit like that through an entire episode. It’s a good thing I’ve seen this show multiple times, considering I don’t take in a single detail. All my focus is on Leland: the light scent of his cologne and shampoo, his quiet laughter, the points of contact where our fingers connect. His upper body is tilted toward mine, close enough to feel his warmth, but not quite close enough for our shoulders to touch.

  I hadn’t realized my head was angled ever so slightly in his direction until he glances my way and our eyes lock. I fight the ‘he caught me staring, look away!’ instinct, and hold his gaze. He smiles after a beat and dips his head down to rest it briefly on my shoulder.

  The next episode starts. It might be my imagination, but I don’t think I’m the only one not paying attention to what’s happening on the screen. Leland shifts slightly so our shoulders are touching. He holds very still for a moment, as if he’s waiting for me to move away, and then he relaxes. When he begins rubbing his thumb over mine, my brain nearly short circuits. For all I know, he’s not even aware he’s doing it, and yet the simple touch sends a rush of tingly warmth throughout my body. If the innocent and chaste gliding of his thumb over my knuckles plays this much havoc with my body, what would it be like to have Leland touch me in other places?

  “Maybe we should kiss,” I blurt. I don’t even remember thinking the words, and now there they are, hanging in the air between us. I wrench my hand free from Leland’s and scramble into an upright position, putting some space between us. “I mean, as practice. Like the hand holding. Won’t people expect us to kiss? Your mom might not, that’d probably be weird, but—”

  “Stella, it’s okay,” Leland says, cutting me off mid-ramble. “I was actually thinking that too, but I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

  “I really took one for the team then, eh?”

  “Yeah, you did. Thanks for that.”

  I laugh and shove his shoulder. He catches my hand and holds onto it, using it to draw me closer until there’s only a couple of inches between our faces.

  “This okay?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

  I make a sound of assent. Leland’s proximity has taken away my ability to form words. This close, I can see flecks of gold in his dark eyes. His cheeks and chin are dusted with a five o’clock shadow. Just like my mouth worked independently of my brain a minute ago, my hand lifts, the backs of my fingers brushing along Leland’s cheek to feel the hint of roughness there.