Page 40 of Toy Shop

“Again, not cute.”

“Nola, is everything okay?” A woman calls her on the other side.

“Yes, Mom. It’s a…” Hesitation capitalizes on her fury. “A friend. I’ll come to help Dad with the TV settings in a sec.”

“All right, honey.” Her Mom’s voice grows faint, along with other murmurs.

I drop the T-shirt, heading to my walk-in closet. “Sunday dinner?”

“Sort of. I visit my parents and aunts and uncles once a month, sometimes more.” She huffs. “Not like you’d care.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do care.” The hurt in her tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “I want to see you.”

“Too bad, because I don’t. I don’t need any more classes.”

“It’s not about a class.” Confident I’m going to meet her, I choose a proper outfit. I swipe a blue polo off a hanger and a pair of gray slacks. “It’s about you and me. About us.”

Nola gasps, the innocent sound I’ve gone crazy without. “No. You…Me… I can’t. Besides, I’ll be leaving here, soon.”

“Where’s here?” I repeat, unmoving from my position. I’m not backing down on this.

“Here is in Portland.”

A little over a three-hour drive. I’ve had longer, easy. “Give me ten, I’ll head out your way.”

“No! No.” She quiets. “I’ll be out soon. You can pick me up from the bus station. If that’s what you want.”

There’s a breach in her resistance, my opening.

“Text me your parents’ address.” I didn’t get to where I am by taking no for an answer. “I’ll say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Vickers. You’ll have a comfortable ride home. You can’t say no to that.”

“Alistair.”

My voice snaps. “Nola.”

“You’re impossible.” She groans. A smiling groan. “Fine. I’ll text you the address.”

“Perfect.”

“Don’t get too excited.” Her second huff today loses its belligerence. “If you don’t pass my dad and mom’s inspection, I’m taking the bus.”

The rumble in my chest and the shaking of my shoulders come along with the laughter I’ve been withholding without even knowing it. “Wish me luck, then.”

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” she quotes from The Hunger Games, and the line goes dead.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Nola

Alistair passed Mom and Dad’s test. Of course, he did.

Truth be told, I’d need a heart of stone to be impenetrable to his charm.

And when he blasts it at me, not holding on to anything? Pfft.

Not a single one of us stood a chance.

From the second I let him in the door, Alistair, with his charming smirk and a bottle of wine and flowers in hand, won my family over. He complimented Mom’s cooking since she insisted he grab a bite of our lunch leftovers, helped Dad fix the damn remote of their smart TV I battled with. He sat around with my aunts and uncles on both sides, their spouses and kids. It was like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

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