3. Marley

3

MARLEY

“ T hat’s all you have?” Liam asks me later that night, staring at the air mattress, folding chair, and four boxes I brought in from in my car.

“For now,” I defend after watching his hired moving crew move an entire apartment’s worth of things into the place in the space of two hours. “My stuff comes in a few days.”

I’m trying to be mad that he filled the living room with the furniture of his choice, but I can’t lie, the couches are the yummiest things I’ve ever sat on. And I hate that he has better taste than me.

Even the mid-century modern dining set is cool. It’s like he was destined to live in this space, making me feel a little like I don’t deserve to be here. Stupid, I know, but that’s the way my brain works.

And let’s not talk about how he helped the movers. Or how his surprisingly large biceps bulged as he brought in boxes, or the way the sweat beads glistened on his upper lip, or the way I caught a glimpse of his washboard abs when he wiped that sweat with the hem of his shirt.

No. That’s a dangerous line of thinking, as was the faint glimmer of excitement in my long-dormant lady bits.

“Well, if the air mattress doesn’t work out, you can sleep on the couches,” he offers. “Do you have blankets?”

“Of course,” I lie, kicking myself for forgetting a fucking blanket. So much for my ‘I have everything’ speech I gave my mom. It’s fine, though, my sweatshirt is cozy and I definitely have sweatpants in one of my boxes.

Liam purses his lips as if he doesn’t quite believe me but nods. “Okay, well, I’m going to hop in the shower and then make some dinner. I’ll probably throw a grilled chicken dish together if you want some.”

My stomach growls, and I blush as I simultaneously think of him in the shower and then cooking for me while I remember that I forgot food, too. “Uh, no thanks,” I sputter. “I think I’m going to go to Heartleaf.”

“That’s a good choice,” he says approvingly. “Have fun.”

I fake a smile and watch him walk away before collapsing face-first on my air mattress with a groan. I don’t know why I’m too prideful to admit I didn’t plan for the move as well as I thought, but now I guess I’m going out.

Fuck me .

“Steven,” I call towards the closet I last saw him slink into after being terrified by the movers. “I’m going to dinner and then the grocery store. I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

At least I remembered to bring his food. Chalk one up for the cat mom.

Resigned to my fate, I slip into a marginally less-stained sweatshirt, run a brush through my hair, dot a touch of lip gloss on my lips and head down to the wild streets of Paintbrush.

The second I step foot on Main Street, all the stress and surprises of the last eight hours ease a bit. There’s such a sense of life here. A bustle that feels electric. And the views. Oh my God. Paintbrush Peak itself stands over the town like a guardian, flowers of every color painting the side of it all the way up to the tree line.

The town itself is adorable and quaint, with old-world styles, hand-painted signage, and quirky shop names. Not to mentione the cleanest air I’ve ever experienced. Just breathing it into my lungs makes me feel better.

By the time I get the entire block and a half to the Heartleaf Café, I’m even smiling—which, after the day’s events—is a feat in itself.

“Welcome to the Heartleaf,” a very tall but stunning woman greets me with a smile when I enter. “How many?”

“Just one.” Some people would be embarrassed to eat out alone. I love it. I can order what I want, get dessert if I want and read a book while I do it.

“Perfect,” she says, grabbing a menu. “We have a solo table on the patio open if you’d like to experience the finest view in paintbrush. Don’t worry, we have outdoor heaters if it gets too chilly.”

Okay maybe my day hasn’t been a total loss. “That sounds perfect.”

“Follow me.”

I follow her through the adorable, bustling café, marveling at the mural of Paintbrush Peak on the one wall, but when I walk out onto the patio, my jaw hits the well-crafted deck.

Nothing. And I mean nothing could have prepared me for the stunning sight of the waterfall on the mountain plunging into Summit Lake and the glorious mist that rises from their union. “Holy—”

The hostess laughs and sets the menu on a single table with a chair that faces the view. “We get that a lot. I’m Briar,” she says. “I’ll check back on you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, too entranced by the landscape to really understand what is happening.

It takes a full five minutes for me to focus on the menu after a I sit down and I nearly cry as I look over the list of comfort foods. It’s just what I needed after a day that has been all over the place.

When Briar returns, I order the hot beef sandwich and take notes on my phone of my impressions of the café, the view, and the town as a whole. I don’t know what I’ll use them for, but I’m a writer. It’s literally my job to write down my thoughts. Even if no one wants to read them.

“Just visiting?” Briar asks when she returns with a giant plate of the best-looking hot beef I’ve ever seen.

“Uh, no, actually. I just moved here today. I’m going to be working at the Paintbrush Post.”

Briar’s eyes light up, “Oh, you must be the new editor-in-chief I’ve been hearing about.” She leans in. “The rumor mill here runs high and full-time, FYI.”

I chuckle. “Good to know.” I hold my hand out. “Marley Green, it’s lovely to meet you.”

Briar takes it. “Briar Costa, my sisters and I own the Heartleaf.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about you guys. The Winnett Sisters and how you jumpstarted the town again.”

She waves her hand through the air as if my comment embarrasses her. “That was mostly the work of Calla, you’ll see her bouncing through, blonde, bubbly, annoyingly cheery.”

I laugh. “Well, I’m really glad you did. I kinda love it here.”

She smiles. “Me too. Enjoy your food. Pie is on the house after.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you.” I feel tears well in my eyes as she walks away and I’m not exactly sure why but I imagine it has a lot to do with the weird-ass day I’ve had.

“Oh my God,” I sigh to no one as I take my first bite of perfectly cooked roast beef and buttery mashed potatoes. It goes a long way to making my living situation feel a little less terrible.

As I eat, my mind wanders back to Liam—or more specifically, his abs and when I feel that zing in my nether regions again, I try to focus on something else.

Namely, the fact that I’m starting a brand-new career in a few days.

My stomach takes a dive for the thousandth time today as the same old worry I always have creeps in. I won’t be good enough. I won’t know what I’m doing. I’ll ruin everything and get kicked out of town for sinking the newspaper before it has a chance to thrive.

As panic and anxiety creeps up my esophagus, my hands start shaking. Anxiety has been in my life since high school. But with therapy and meds when I need them, I have the tools I need to dull the manic edges when it hits.

A few minutes of breathing exercises and focusing on the spectacular view eases me enough that I can finish my meal with relative ease. The warm apple pie a la mode that Briar drops off afterwards goes a long way to making me feel normal again.

I leave the Heartleaf feeling like myself again, ready to take on new challenges. Like buying groceries and a blanket because I refuse to admit to Liam that I don’t have one.

Because I’m a goddamn adult.