XOXO (The Calvettis of New York 3)

Lynn licks her bottom lip. “You know I can’t resist a cupcake.”

I do know that. I’ve been coming to Past Over for months. I first stepped into the store late one evening on my way home from work. Lynn was ready to close up shop, but she let me stroll up and down the aisles of treasures while we talked.

Since then, I’ve been coming back as regularly as I possibly can. I don’t just find the best clothing items here, but I’ve found jewelry, a painting for my bedroom, and books.

“I have something for you too.” Lynn sets off toward one of the many wooden bookcases that line the interior walls of the shop. “A gentleman stopped in the other day with a donation. He didn’t think I’d want it, but I told him that my very best customer would love it.”

If she’s talking about me, I know what the donation consisted of. “You have a new book for me?”

“Two,” she says, wagging two fingers in the air. “You may need a crane to get them home. They’re massive.”

I laugh. It’s the same joke she always tells when I take home my favorite type of books.

“I’m strong.” I flex my bicep under the yellow cardigan I’m wearing. “I can handle it.”

She scoops up two large leather-bound books. “You’re sure.”

An uncontrollable smile blooms on my lips. “I’m very sure.”

Bending forward to accommodate the weight of the books in her arms, Lynn laughs. “You’re the only girl I know who loves law books this much.”

She’s never asked me why. I’ve never offered.

That’s one of the many reasons I love Lynn so much.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask as she places them on the worn wooden counter with a thud.

“Are you serious?” She wipes her hand across her forehead. “They’re free. Any law books I find will always be free for you. I’ve been running this store for twenty-five years, and no one but you has ever come in looking for law books.”

“Fools,” I quip.

That sets her head back in laughter. “Let’s split a cupcake, and then I have a new batch of old jewelry to show you.”

I settle onto a swivel stool near the checkout counter. “You have yourself a deal.”

Chapter 20

Arietta

“Lowell,” Lynn repeats his name for a second time. “I like his name, Arietta. He sounds...”

“Kind?” I perk a brow.

“Rich.” She laughs.

I have no idea about Lowell’s financial situation. It doesn’t matter to me because I’m forging my own path in that regard. I don’t want to date someone who has no ambition and a zero balance bank account, but it’s not a subject we’ve discussed yet. If things go well on our date tomorrow night, maybe we’ll talk about it on our second or third date.

“He seems nice,” I offer as I press my fingertip to a few chocolate crumbs on the paper napkin in front of me. I lift my finger to my lips to savor the last taste of the cupcake.

“Is he nicer than your boss?” Lynn scrunches her nose. “Is he still being Dominick Downer?”

That’s a nickname I need to add to my list. Smiling, I shrug. “I woke up with a cold yesterday, so I took the day off. He came over with food.”

Lynn leans both elbows on the top of the checkout counter. “He came to your apartment?”

Nodding, I smile. “He just showed up. I wasn’t expecting him.”

Widening her eyes, she tilts her head. “You were decent, weren’t you?”

Lynn is old enough to be my grandma. I can’t tell her that I accidentally sent Mr. Calvetti a picture of myself in lingerie. I don’t think she’d judge me, but why put her in an uncomfortable position?

“I was decent,” I half-lie.

I still regret not putting on a bra when I got out of bed yesterday.

“Has he ever come to your apartment before?”

“Never.” I glance down at my skirt. “It was strange to see him standing there when I opened the door.”

“It means something.” Lynn nods her head. “Maybe he was genuinely concerned about you? You’re all right now, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her with a touch of my hand to her forearm. “I don’t think he was concerned. He’s not like that.”

“So he stopped by to make sure you weren’t playing sick to score a free day off?” she asks matter-of-factly.

I thought of that too, but he could have done that without bringing half of Calvetti’s menu items with him.

“I don’t know,” I say softly. “Maybe I’ll never know what motivated him to come over.”

We both turn when the bell over the door to the shop rings.

A blonde-haired woman, around Lynn’s age, enters. “Hello again.”

Recognition floats over Lynn’s expression as she returns the woman’s smile with a grin of her own. “It’s good to see you.”

The woman tugs on the belt of the light blue trench coat she’s wearing. “I’m here to browse. Don’t mind me.”