“Of course,” he said, tucking the pen back into his pocket. “Take your time. I’ll drop by later to see if you need help carrying anything.”
He turned and pushed through the double doors, leaving me standing alone by the register.
The folded paper felt heavy against my hip as I walked back to the kitchen to pick up my hot plates.
At three in the afternoon, I was standing on the concrete steps of my basement apartment, carrying two heavy grocery bags.
A damp chill came off the stone walls, and the bag in my left arm was beginning to tear at the bottom corner.
A hand reached down and caught a can of tomato soup before it could slide out onto the wet step.
“I told you I’d drop by,” Julian said, appearing from the shadow of the staircase.
He took the heavy paper bag from my arms before I could say a word.
He stood close to me on the narrow landing, his shoulder brushing mine as I reached into my purse for my keys.
