She set Ray’s tool bag and jacket on the ground near the sofa and stood awkwardly next to it as Tate guided his dad to the bedroom. Should she go back to her own apartment now? Her stomach ached at the familiar scene keeping her from leaving. Her eyes drifted across the man’s living space. Similar to her own father’s apartment, it had air of loneliness, maybe even finality. A moment later, a knock at the door drew Tate from around the corner. She watched as he answered it and took the bags from Mrs. Granger. She’d forgotten all about her groceries. When Tate transferred both bags to one hand so he could close the door, one of the books tumbled to the floor. Lexy’s eyes widened, noticing which book lay at Tate’s feet. She lunged forward to grab it, but Tate kneeled down to swipe it up. After a quick glance at the cover, he arched an eyebrow at her that could have left her embarrassed and scrambling to explain. Instead she snatched it proudly from his hand, smiled, and said, “Thank you.”
