Angi’s body went rigid. “Well, there’s no pressure to stay, but at least stop back in to shop.”

“I will.” The woman nodded, studying the card. “I may even make a reservation.”

“That was unnecessary.” Angi stepped away as soon as the door closed behind the customer. “No point in talking up my part in the inn when it’s going to end at the beginning of the year.”

“Not if you explain to your mom that you’re going back.”

“You aren’t exactly in the best spot to be doling out advice on setting boundaries with mothers.”

He inclined his head. “True.”

Angi frowned as if she’d expected him to argue. When he didn’t, she blew out a breath. “You’re annoying, but I’ll be here after lunch.”

She held up a hand before he could answer. “No arguments, and I’m bringing you a meatball sub.”

The relief that flooded him was as strong as a river’s current after the spring thaw. “I wouldn’t dare argue with meatballs,” he told her, earning a small smile as she walked out.

That smile made him feel like he’d accomplished something monumental, which made him a massive fool.

IT WAS NEARLY three before Angi made it back to In Bloom, and she half expected that Gabe would have closed early just to avoid accepting her help.

Instead, she walked into the shop and did a quick pivot as she took in the transformation that had occurred in a few hours.

He’d cleaned up the mess in the corners and on the shelves, and strewn handfuls of tinsel across most every horizontal surface. Several large bins of decorations sat in front of the counter as if they were waiting to be placed.

“Where did all of this come from?” she asked as Gabe straightened from wiping a spot of dried dirt on the floor.

Something about the look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. “Also, I brought you a sandwich,” she added, holding up the brown bag in front of her to draw his attention.

“Gran’s attic,” he said with a smile. “After you left this morning, I went to see her. I needed to remind myself why I was doing this and to distance myself from that call with my mom.” He straightened. “I admitted to my grandma that I’d let things go with the store because taking care of it felt like I was helping my mom.”

He picked up a snow globe only half filled with water and studied it like it offered answers to the great mysteries of life. “I wasn’t raised with any sort of religion, but I’m guessing it’s what recalcitrant kids feel like going to confession. I stole two cookies from the cookie jar and all that business.”

Angi was bowled over by the sincerity in his tone, and also equally amused. “Have you never admitted to any wrongdoing in your life?”

“Not to anyone who mattered.”

“Seriously? What about as a teenager? No sneaking out or stealing your mom’s liquor.” Her voice trailed off as he gave her a “for real?” look.