Page 3 of A Fine Line

That laugh came back through her, one so genuine I didn’t know if this girl was even real in front of me. “Well, I-”

“Hey, you’ve been up here forever.” A hand reached behind Winnifred’s shoulder, and I peered around her. A shorter woman with curly black hair stood behind her with an ‘I LOVE ZACK WHEELER’ white tee covered in red and blue hearts.

Winnifred turned around to face her. “Sorry, I got,” she looked up at me and smiled a little. “distracted.”

Her friend- the pitcher lover, I assumed- looked up to me and a slow pull of her smile came across. “Right. Well, we need to go, I look ridiculous by myself out there.”

“Yes, that’s your problem, here.” Winnifred deadpanned before turning back to me. “I should…” she tossed a thumb over her shoulder where her friend was now checking her lipstick in a silver napkin holder.

“Right.” I sucked in a breath and stuck both hands in my pockets. “I’ll text or call you, yeah?”

She nodded with a quick bite down on her smile, causing my attention to go directly to those full pink lips. “I’m going to be awfully disappointed if you don’t. My number doesn’t go to just anyone.”

“Good.” I smiled.

By the time I grabbed my own food and was walking down the crowded aisle towards my sister, my cheeks were hurting from smiling. I plopped down and handed her a hot dog.

“What’s with your face? And where’s my pretzel?”

I ignored both of those questions and just shook my head out at the field. “I just met my future wife.”

“Well, did you meet my future soft pretzel and beer cheese while you were there?”

That night when I got home I sat on my couch, pulled up the last season of Hell’s Kitchen- which I’d already seen four times- and stared at the blank message in my phone, trying to concoct the perfect first text.

My thumbs ran across the keyboard in any attempt of a normal sentence.

I got a nice pigeon for you to yell at…

No. Way too creepy.

I deleted the text and shook out my shoulders, bouncing the nervous energy off of me.

Did you enjoy the rest of the game?

Too boring.

Can we skip the small talk and get to the aisle?

Borderline psychotic.

I groaned and tossed my head back to the couch cushion behind me. I locked my phone and set it down on the coffee table in front of me, reaching for my laptop beside it. Maybe if I lookedher up on social media I could get a better idea of what to say. Or maybe I just wanted to see her one more time. Both, I decided.

I pulled up Facebook and started typing in her name. After a couple scrolls through the surprising amount of Winnifred’s in Philly before I landed on her profile. In a pink checkered tank top and a green bandana tied around her auburn hair, she smiled at the camera- one that reflected the same smile I saw earlier. My lips tipped up in the corners.

I exited her profile picture and scrolled down once. Just once, because that was all it took to see it.

A picture with her next to a man with wavy blonde hair poking out of a cowboy hat, sharing a smile with her. Winnie’s hand is lifted high, smiling strong and bright with a giant ring on the appropriate finger.

My eyes darted to a caption that said‘ENGAGED TO MY ONE AND ONLY’with a string of heart, ring, and marriage emojis.

In hopes I was seeing things wrong, or maybe that was some kind of twisted joke, I scrolled up once more and saw the answer standing right in front of me next to her name.

Relationship status: Engaged.

Ihad questioned a lot of great things in life.

Why does a round pizza come in a square box?

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