Page 23 of Proposal Play

“We’ve been playing pickleball. So it was probably that,” he adds.

“Good, good. Just wanted to be sure.” The car is nearing the terminal. “Carry on with the pickleball.”

He laughs lightly, pauses, then says, “We will. And…thanks, kid.”

“Anytime.”

When I hang up, I switch over to my camera app and hit record, still in the Lyft’s back seat.

“If you don’t hear from me, assume I won big at the tables and bought a baseball team, proving you both wrong. But I’m not as mean as you two, so I’ll get you goodseats to all the games.” I pause and lower my voice in case the driver’s listening in. “Love you two.”

I hit end, watch it, then roll my eyes. Fuck, that’s cheesy, but it’s on brand for us—full of sarcasm and love. And, really, you should tell the people in your life that you love them.

Because you never know.

9

THE WARM NUT CONSPIRACY

Maeve

“Question for you,” I begin as our short flight to Vegas hits cruising altitude.

“Hit me,” Asher says, stretching his long legs out in front of him in first class. He always upgrades us whenever I travel with him—an extravagance he waves off, saying he has points or that he fits better in this row. The luxury, which I eat up while I can, is the opposite of my life. I live in a tiny apartment with a shower that’s too short, a toilet that faces the wall, and a couch with a broken spring.

When I fly solo, it’s all cramped seats and rude people clipping their toenails, so I try not to get too spoiled on our trips. But still, I like Asher’s world better—a world of warm nuts and champagne.

I nod toward the flight attendant in the nearby galley, prepping beverages and snacks for our short ride across the California sky. “Day drinking—yes or no?”

A smile coasts across Asher’s lips, and the thought that pops into my head isI kissed those full lips, and they tasted good.

Pretend it didn’t happen, girl.

“Yes,” he answers. “Because don’t you know? There’s no alcohol in champagne when you’re flying.”

“The nuts are calorie-free, too, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe I can get two of each,” I whisper.

“Go for it,” he urges.

But when the attendant comes by with a tray of both, I behave myself and only take one flute and one tiny dish of warm, salted nuts. I pop a cashew into my mouth and sigh happily as I chew, enjoying this respite from my normal life where I don’t know if I’ll ever catch a big break. “Why are warm cashews better on planes? Are they this good on land?”

“No one knows. No one serves them on land.”

“Why not?” I demand.

“It’s one of the great mysteries of the universe, Maeve,” he says.

I playfully bang my fist on the armrest. “We need to solve that mystery, Asher.”

“How about this? When we return, we’ll get to the bottom of the warm nut conspiracy.”

That’s what friends do—tackle silly adventures together. “I’m in,” I say, snagging an almond.

Asher holds up a finger to catch the flight attendant’s attention. “Hey, Ginger. Thanks for these, but it seems mine disappeared into my stomach already. Any chance I can have another dish of warm nuts?”

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