Page 18 of Wrong Number, Right Unicorn

“I get that it’s not traditional, but I love me some pineapple with melted cheese and pepperoni on a thick crust.”

“Me too.”

Glad we agreed, or our relationship might have been over before it began.

“Favorite dessert?”

This was less controversial than the previous question but harder. How to choose which overly sweet concoction was my favorite?

“A soft gooey in the center brownie.” Now I wanted one so bad, and I stuffed a cookie between my lips. Nice as it was, it couldn’t compare to a fresh-baked brownie.

“Grams makes a mean brownie.” He tapped his head. “The recipe is in here. She refuses to share it with anyone.”

“Maybe if we act as kitchen assistants, she’ll allow us to help while she bakes her famous brownies.” I had no intention of stealing Grams’s recipe, but if she was cooking, she needed a bodyguard.

“Sounds good.”

“My turn.” Errol had the deets on my favorite color, pizza, dessert and that I hated heights—or my unicorn did. “What’s your comfort food?”

“Fried rice,” he answered without hesitation. He clarified, saying there’d been a Chinese restaurant close by when he was a kid, and he got their recipe. “The family that owned it were amazing cooks, but the simplest dish was the one I adored.”

“I love fried rice too.” Maybe he could share the recipe and we could make it together. I pictured a lifetime of us in the kitchen, giving one another a taste of whatever we were cooking.

“Are you a morning person or night?”

“Morning, but lately, I’ve had to be a twenty-four-hour person.”

Poor Errol. If he and Grams were in agreement, I could give him a break. He could stay at my place, and I’d sleep on the sofa here. My unicorn would sense if anything was wrong with Grams and wake me.

“I might be able to help you out with that.”

He smirked, and his cheeks colored a delicious shade of pink. “That sounds like fun. Tell me more.”

Relaxing for him? Yes. Fun? Nope. We’d be in two different places, so no fun to be had.

“I can think of something that’s much more fun than sleeping apart.” I rested my brow on his.

“Sleeping together?” he squeaked.

“Eventually.” Not tonight sadly. I tucked strands of hair behind his ear and trailed a finger over his jaw and around his lips. But Errol wasn’t a fan of my slowly, slowly approach and he slammed his mouth on mine.

I was bombarded with a multitude of sensations; the sweetness of chocolate chips, the intoxicating scent that drew me to him in the police station, his cologne, his soft lips, and his panting as she stuck his tongue in my mouth.

I lost myself in my feelings, never wanting to find a way out.

Chapter 9

Errol

This morning, before I took Grams to the doctor, I grabbed all of her pill bottles and put them in my backpack. When Davien suggested I make a list of them, I thought that was a great plan—until I started actually writing them down. I realized some of them were overlapping with similar names or the same names but different doses. Making heads and tails of them was nearly impossible. Some were listed as name brands, some not, and the dosing—it was everything from multiple times a day to half pills. It just got too confusing. So instead, I decided to take them all.

It was a good thing I did because when I went into the exam room with Grams—much to her chagrin—I took them all out and put them on the counter for when the doctor came in. He’d been her doctor for a long time, but his scheduling wasn’t the best. She hadn’t actually seen him in two months. His colleagues were great, but they weren’t the same as someone who was familiar with you. And when you mixed that with specialists and ER visits, there were many, many people contributing to Grams’s healthcare. Too many, if you asked me.

“Evelyn, do I even want to know why all those pill bottles are on my counter?” the doctor asked. It had been a long time since I heard someone call her that. The nurses used her last name, and I stuck with Grams. And at the police station, she was fully named every single time, including her last name.

Grams let out a sigh. “My grandson thinks you need to look at them. He doesn’t trust me or the doctors.”

“That’s not what I said, Grams. I said that your primary doctor should know all of the things you’re taking, and this was the easiest way to make that happen.”

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