The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set

“What?” she asked.

“You’re studying that very intently. Or you’re disgusted? I can’t tell which.”

“Well… it’s a very serious situation.”

“Is it?” he asked, a hint of hesitation crossing his features.

Nodding solemnly, Willow said, “I could get the turkey club with French fries, but the chicken wrap sounds kind of amazing, and I have it on good authority that the homefries here are delicious.”

“Ah.” His expression cleared as he nodded. “That is pretty serious.”

“You can see my dilemma,” she replied solemnly.

“If you make the wrong choice, there will be dire consequences.”

“Exactly.”

They shared a smile before the waitress came over, interrupting the brief moment to take their orders.

---

“This is the saddest creature I’ve ever seen.”

Willow laughed as Ethan unlocked the door to his apartment and pushed it open, allowing her inside first.

Her fingers moved over the deformed creature’s back. “You’re crazy; he’s adorable. You should name him.”

“He doesn’t even deserve a name; he’s an embarrassment.”

“Quit being mean,” she said, snatching his hippopotamus sculpture and holding him closer as if protectively, lightly petting it. “It’s not his fault he’s different.”

“He’s awful. Look at your mice, they’re like something out of a children’s book. My hippo looks like something out of a child’s nightmare.”

“I’m going to call him Harry,” Willow decided. “Unless you want to name him something else.”

“Call him whatever you want,” Ethan replied, shaking his head. “Hell, you can keep the damn thing. I don’t know how I would even explain what it is to anyone who saw it.”

Willow grinned. “Fine, I will. Poor little Harry, he deserves someone to love him.”

Ethan shook his head, sparing her a half-amused glance. “You need to work on your standards.”

Her jaw fell open and her eyes widened, but she couldn’t fight the amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That’s mean. I’ll have you know, I have reasonably high standards.”

Ethan shot her a playful look of disbelief. Willow narrowed her eyes in response and took a seat on his couch.

Ethan dropped his keys on the counter and came in to sit down next to her. His hibernating laptop was open on his coffee table, and he sat forward, bringing the screen back to life to type in his password.

“You’re buying art supplies right now, aren’t you?” she joked.

“I am.”

“I knew it. You were complaining too much, clearly overcompensating. When you make the next Pietà, I want some credit.”

“I don’t know what that is, but okay.”

“Michelangelo? Your humanities professor is so fired.”

“He’s probably dead by now; he was really old when I was in college.”