Page 20 of When The Rain Falls

"Exactly.”

"Why can't you be normal?" He walks over to a cupboard and brings down a coffee mug.

"I hate to break it to you, but coffee isn't going to transform you into a functioning human. That ship sailed long ago."

Greg rubs his temple. "So, how long are you going to be here exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know. Until harassing you stops being fun. So, probably for a while.”

He sighs as he sets his mug under his fancy espresso machine. It's a beastly sterling silver thing that I don't think I'll ever know how to use and takes up half the counter. He walks to the fridge and pulls out creamer. Before he closes the door, he glanced down at the calendar on the fridge stuck under a Disney magnet.

"Why is the 25thcircled? Did you do that?"

"That's my race," I explain. I lift Logan out of his chair and bounce him on my hip. I smell the faint odor of poop. Oh Lordy. That smells like death. How can such a small baby make such a large smell? Luckily, my shift is over. I'll let Greg deal with that.

"What race?"

"I'm running an ultra-marathon." I twirl Logan. He holds his breath as the air hits him and then grins up at me. He reaches a slobbery hand for my face and I let him grab my nose.

"What's that mean?"

I stop twirling and give Greg a look. Seriously? Every time I tell someone I'm running an ultra-marathon, they ask me what it is. Suburbia. Jesus. It's like these people aren't even civilized.

"Hmmm, let me explain in terms you'll understand. It's where you run really, really far. Do you know what running is, Greg? It's like walking, but you do it faster."

"Running isn't even a real sport. You just keep going. There's no skill involved."

"Like golf is a real sport?" I prod. "You guys ride around neon-green lawns in little go-karts wearing pleated pants."

"Well, running's a waste of time."

"Coming from a grown ass man who spends his time playing with a remote control tarantula."

"Hey, my tarantula is made with the latest in AI technology," he says defensively.

"Here, Greg." I hand Logan off to him. "Logie has a present for you."

8WET DREAM ON ROLLERBLADES

FINN

"I thoughtyour uncle Bert was going to start dry humping what was left of the cake." I tighten my grip around Laurel's hand and sway our arms back and forth as we walk. The walls and the ceiling are both the same pristine, creamy color. The light fixtures on the walls blend in, making it look like the bulbs are floating in the air. The only color in the hallway is the intricate, dark green pattern woven into the carpet beneath our feet. The pattern reminds me of an optical illusion. Like we're walking through a portal to our future. And in a way, we are.

"Did I forget to warn you about how much Uncle Bert loves cake?" she asks. I pull out the key card in the pocket of my suit and find the number written on the paper sleeve. 803.

"He kept telling everyone how moist and supple it was." I shiver. "I'll never be able to eat cake again." I laugh. The hallway stops at a fork. I read the plaque on the wall and steer Laurel left. As we round the corner, we stand face to face with a large door.

"803," I announce. "This is it."

"Where are our bags?"

"I had everything brought up earlier."

"Look at you, thinking of everything." She gives me a playful push.

She's wearing a tulle and satin off-the-shoulder A-line dress with a lacey chapel train. At least that's what Laurel called it. A year ago, I didn't know what any of those words meant. I still only have a vague idea. I'm not one to pay attention to wedding dresses. I told Laurel I'd be happy if she showed up in a paper bag. As long as she showed up. But she's stunning. As close to a real life princess as I'll ever get. But better. Because she's my princess.

She pulls my head down and locks her lips with mine. When we pull back from each other, she takes the red rose from my tuxedo and puts it in her teeth.

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