Page 49 of Sweet and Salty

Then I find a photo with Jesse and me standing behind the cake table as Daisy and Tanner feed each other, smearing each other’s faces with bright purple and zebra-print frosting. I’m staring at the bride and groom, my gaze far off into the distance, but Jesse is looking right at me. I hadn’t noticed then, but it’spretty obvious in the photo. I’ve never been ogled like that, like I’m the only thing worth noticing in the entire room.

I zoom in, crop the photo, select a filter, and upload it to a special post with the hashtag #WildInLoveForever. I may add several copies to my personal files. For safekeeping, of course.

My phone rings just as I hit the Post button, and I slide the bar to answer it before the sound can wake Jesse.

“Are you avoiding me?” Daphne says. A ton of background noise bleeds through on her end of the call. She must be at the hospital, because I definitely hear “Paging Dr. Donnelly” over the loudspeaker.

“Of course not.” I pull my robe closed, although we aren’t video chatting. Daphne has an innate ability to figure out when someone has recently had sex. “How are you? How’s life?”

“Fine. Kind of boring. Unlike you.” She says the last phrase in a singsong voice before I hear her bark, “Listen, if you don’t want to pass your internship, then fine, don’t do the rectal exam.” There are so, so many reasons I never went into medicine. “Sorry. My intern’s being a douche. So how are things?”

I roll my eyes. “Why do I feel like you already know?”

“Maybe because you post about it on social media. Spill. Who’s the hottie? He is mountain man fine. Does he own flannel? If he does, he should burn it and invest in suits.”

“Don’t pretend Frannie hasn’t already told you.” Frannie might not be the town gossip, but anything related to me goes directly behind my back to our best friend.

“Okay, yes. She told me all about the new hardware daddy.”

“I really wish people would stop saying that. It feels weird.”

“How about hard-bodied hardware hottie?”

“You need to give up the alliteration, Daph. You sound like you have post-call brain.”

“Whatever. So…have you banged him yet?Jason, seriously.” Her voice is muffled, like she’s placed her hand over the speaker.“I’ve already been here for thirty hours, and my limit was reached three weeks ago. Please. Keep fucking around and see what happens.”She sighs into the phone. “Anyway. Have you banged him yet?”

I think about Jesse, naked and asleep in my bed. A curl of wicked delight spreads through me. “Come on, you know I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Well, maybe he’s the long-term type. And there is no ‘type of girl.’ That’s an outdated patriarchal concept. You embrace your own sexuality, whatever it looks like. Life should be more about pleasure. It’s short enough as it is.”

“I guess.” I play with the picture of us that’s still open on my computer, Jesse’s expression warm as he watches me. “He isn’t a long-term guy, though. He basically told me outright that he’s keeping secrets and won’t be sharing any time soon.”

“Really?” I can almost hear Daphne’s ears perk up. “I love a good mystery man. It’s so satisfying to finally figure it all out.”

“Maybe, but in the meantime it’s exhausting, wondering what it is he could be hiding.” Because ever since he mentioned, in the world’s most oblique vocabulary, that he might have done something wrong, all I do is catastrophize. Did he kill someone? Embezzle from a mom-and-pop shop? Sleep with the wife of an arms dealer? The only thing I can’t imagine is that he hurt an animal. I’ve seen him around my farm, after all.

“Then do some digging. That’s why the internet was invented, to stalk potential love interests. Oh, and to figure who that random actress is in that movie from the ’90s.”

I roll my eyes. “That is one hundred percent not why the internet was invented.”

“Yeah, because it was founded by a bunch of white men who thought their shit wouldn’t get dug up. Haha. Spoiler alert. They were wrong.”

I laugh. “I miss you. How’s Chicago?”

“Windy. Pretty, now, in the three weeks before the humidity settles in and it feels like I have to commute through pea soup.” Daphne sighs. “Seriously, the gun violence is getting to me. Every fucking day…I had to buy a damn Taser just to get to work, and I still have nightmares.”

“Rory says the levels of gun violence out here have declined substantially over the last five years.” Am I trying to get my best friend to move home? Abso-darn-lutely. “Just saying.”

“Yeah. I know.” She pauses for a long moment, during which I’m treated to telephonically eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation regarding colon cleanses. “How is, um, everyone?”

My heart aches, knowing exactly what she isn’t asking. “They’re fine. Rory and Davey make single parenting look easy. Frannie’s around for the time being, but it’s only a matter of time before her feet wander again. She wants a new plane, if she can find the cash. I think she’s sleeping with someone, but she’s not talking about it.” I pause. “Mom’s doing great at the office. She says they’re thinking about adding another doc. Um, everyone’s great at the office. They miss you.” I will her to talk to her dad, just once. Since Ma died, I know exactly how fleeting life and opportunity could be.

“That’s great. Tell, um, your mom…that I said hi.” Her talking to her dad is clearly not happening.

“I will.”

Daphne exhales, like she’s cleansing herself of the familial angst. “The comments on your cake post look great, by the way. People love it.”

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