Which is true, of course, and a totally reasonable explanation. Much more reasonable than thinking he comes in here to see me. That would not be reasonable at all, and therefore I am not thinking it. At all.
I hand Jacob a muffin and put another in front of Mrs. Kaminski, because he always buys her one.
“Thank you,” she says primly, folding a napkin on her lap.
Jacob takes the seat next to Mrs. Kaminski, and I grind the espresso for his café Americano. Technically, I’m not a barista here, but Zoe’s hands are full, and I know how to make all these drinks from when I worked here during my Very Bad Year. This time around, Zoe was super-impressed when I made a pot of coffee because it usually takes people two weeks to learn how to do it up to her standards. I obviously don’t mention that in an alternate universe, it actually took me three weeks.
“How’s the video game music coming?” I ask, setting Jacob’s drink in front of him.
“Just finished earlier this week. Owen came over last night with a bottle of whiskey to celebrate.” He winces and runs a hand through his hair. The couple of days of stubble on his jaw and purple circles under his eyes scream hangover.
“Do you need another one of these?” I gesture at his coffee.
He smiles. “No, I’m good.”
“Well, if Owen is as hungover as you are when he comes over later today, I’ll be sure to turn the lights on really bright and talk loudly. Maybe I’ll find an excuse to use the blender.”
“He deserves it.” Jacob nods. “He’s a bad influence.”
“Who’s Owen?” Mrs. Kaminski demands.
“My brother,” I say at the same time Jacob says, “my oldest friend.”
“Is he as good-looking as you are?” she asks Jacob.
“Uh…” He rubs his jaw. “I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer that.”
She turns to me. “Is he as good-looking as Jacob?”
I am not about to comment on how good-looking Jacob is, either. But luckily, we’re comparing him to my brother, so I have an easy way out. “No, Owen’s an ugly troll,” I say, and Jacob laughs.
“Well, bring him in here, and I’ll be the judge.”
For a moment, I’m really tempted by this. I’d love to hear Mrs. Kaminski tell my brother he’d be handsome if only he’d take off that stupid hat. But Owen has started calling me Sadie the Cat Lady thanks to Jacob spilling the beans, and I don’t need Mrs. Kaminski giving my brother any more ammunition.
“So, you’re hanging out with Owen tonight?” Jacob pops a bite of his candied pear and walnut muffin into his mouth, and I love the way his eyes close, just briefly, with pleasure.
“Yeah, we’re going to watch the Antiques Roadshow and make fun of all the ugly artifacts people bring in for appraisal. You want to come?” The invitation pops out, surprising me a little, but not completely. I’ve never asked him to hang out before, but we weren’t friends before. And now… well, it seems like maybe we are.
“I’d love to, but I have—” He stops talking, and then, “I have other plans.”
I will not ask if he was about to say he has a date.
“But I wish I could come.” It sounds like he actually does wish he could come, so he must not have a date. Because who would want to hang out with me and Owen and nineteenth-century candy dishes worth a stupid amount of money if they had something fun to do, like go on a date?
“I’m asking because Owen left his wallet at my place last night,” Jacob says. “Can I give it to you?”
“Sure, but I can’t promise I won’t go on a shopping spree with all his credit cards.”
“Once it’s out of my possession, I take no responsibility for what happens to it.” Jacob grins. “Let me run home and get it.”
I slide the last plate of muffins into the display case. “Actually, I’m done here.” I pull my apron over my head. “I can walk with you.”
We say goodbye to Zoe and Mrs. Kaminski, and the few blocks to Jacob’s place pass quickly. In the lobby, I realize that even though this building is as familiar to me as my own, it’s supposed to be the first time I’ve been inside. I play dumb on the elevator, asking which floor to push, and again when Jacob waves me to go first into the hall. He leads me to his apartment and is pulling out his key when the neighbor’s door swings open and Paige steps out.
“Jacob! Hi!” Paige walks over, arms outstretched, and gives Jacob a hug.
Huh. Since when do Paige and Jacob hug?
Hi.” Paige turns to me. “I’m Paige.”
Jacob clears his throat. “Sorry. Sadie, this is Paige. Paige, this is Owen’s sister, Sadie.”
“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you, Sadie!” At that, she leans over and gives me a hug, too. Maybe she’s just a hugger. I try to remember if that was the case in my first go-around. “I adore your brother.”
“Oh, you know Owen?” I ask, straining to piece all of this together. When I lived here during my Very Bad Year, I was the only one acquainted with Paige, and only because I…
Oh.
Only because I sent her wine and chocolate.
The wine and chocolate I encouraged Jacob to send her, just a couple of weeks ago. When I sent it, she came over to say thank you, and we chatted for a bit. So, she must have done the same with Jacob.
“Yeah, I know Owen.” Paige laughs. “And I’m ready to kill him for bringing that bottle of whiskey last night. I’ve never had such a killer hangover.”
Okay, so clearly, she and Jacob didn’t just chat, they also hung out drinking. I wonder if Brandon was there, too.
“Oh man.” I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, I avoid the stuff. I hope you’ll be okay. Maybe Brandon can bring you some soup or something.”
Both Paige and Jacob look at me sideways, and it’s a look I’ve gotten used to in the past few months. I’m not supposed to know anything about Paige and Brandon. As far as anyone around me knows, I never lived here in Jacob’s building, so I’ve never actually seen Paige and Brandon making out in the halls. All of that happened during my Very Bad Year, which never actually happened.
I can’t believe I’ve done this again. How am I going to explain that I know about Brandon? I can’t pull another Sadie the Cat Lady and make up an outrageous story like I did with Zoe.
But then Jacob says, “What are you talking about? Who’s Brandon?”
Paige’s brows knit together. “I don’t think I know anyone named Brandon.”
How can she not know anyone named Brandon?
And then it hits me. Paige met Brandon because I’d sent her a package and he’d delivered it. But if Jacob sent the package, that small change could have altered everything that followed. The wine and chocolate could have been delivered by anyone. And obviously, that anyone wasn’t Brandon, because Paige doesn’t know a Brandon. She’s not dating a Brandon.
And she’s drinking whiskey with Jacob and hugging him in the hall. Is it possible that Paige and Jacob are dating?
This train of thought goes careening off a cliff when Paige smiles at Jacob and says, “Don’t worry, I’m going to take some Tylenol and have a nap. I’ll be totally good for dinner later.”