Page 142 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“Bad news.”

“I’ll com–”

“No. You don’t have to. I need this.”

“Would you like me to come after?”

“No. I’d like it if you continued preparing for vacation. I’m okay, Chemistry.”

“She’s pretty, by the way.”

I looked over at Art, who was freeing the hand of the waitress who’d brought over our drinks and those who belonged to the table near us.

“She says thanks.”

“No, she didn’t, baby.”

“She will once I tell her.”

“Alright. The meal is covered. Have a ball, Choc. I have to go.”

“Thank you, Mister.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He ended the call as I began to squeal into my hands and stomp my feet underneath the table.

“Okay, apparently, there’s a lot I’ve missed.”

With remorse sketched across my features, I nodded. “Oh my God, Art. Yes.”

This is what I’d been missing, what I’d been needing. The first taste of community I’d had in the last few months happened to be the night of dinner and the following day when I joined the girls for a shopping trip.

We were all in need of vacation pieces and Chem was paying. Nothing was off limits. They’d made it clear I was entitled to any and everything my heart desired.

“Then start talking.”

“One second.”

I took a massive gulp of the purple concoction. It was better than I’d expected. The alcohol was potent, but not overpowering.

“This is good.”

“Egypt.”

“Okay. Okay. And it’s Eden,” I whispered.

“Sorry.” Remorsefully, she apologized.

“I fell in love–” I sighed, taking another sip.

“Okay, what’s the issue?”

“With the target.”

I peeped around the restaurant which was covered in greenery and bold colors. Art had chosen the location. I would return surely.

---