Page 72 of Debugging Love

As we walk back to our group, the wheels in my mind turn. Will she tell Danni that I asked? Do I mind if she does? Nope. Not one bit.

Some problems require you to whittle away at them, debug each line of code individually, layer up the logic until you build a seamless solution. And that’s my specialty. The sand shifts under my feet, but my resolve is firm. I’ve got a new project now, and her name is Danni.

Chapter 17

Danni

I walk out the front doors of Citizen’s Tower into the hot August, immediately regretting my choice. After sharing lunch in the breakroom with Morgan and Kayla, I decided to move my legs and enjoy the ocean view. Seemed like a good idea, idyllic even. The sun could smite an ant in a millisecond out here. Me, it might take a few minutes, but I’m not risking it. Looks like I’ll be moving my legs by walking up four flights of stairs back to the air-conditioned office.

As I reach for the door handle, my phone buzzes. Just once, which means it’s not the Social Security Administration calling to tell me there’s a law enforcement action against me. I duck through the door, find a cool corner in the lobby, and check my phone. It’s a text from Willa.

Just left the vet’s office.

Wednesday during our dinner Zoom call, Willa informed me that Molly has a lump on her left leg, probably a cyst but she wanted to have it checked out.

What did they say?I ask.

They biopsied it. Won’t know anything until the results come back.

How did Molly do?

She was a trouper as always. The nurses wanted to take her home.

Nope,I type,They need to find their own Molly.

There’s only one Molly.

Truth.

Anyway, I’ll let you know, she says, and then adds,Got a big date tonight?

Ha. I have to go to a work thing. We’re binge-watching Temporal Grifter.

That could count.

No, it absolutely could not, I counter.You haven’t met the people I work with.

Speaking of, Chance just strolled into the lobby with an ice cream cone. He bites into it, chews, swallows and takes another bite. Gum-chewer Chance is also an ice cream chewer. I don’t know how to process this.

He glances over and changes trajectory, walks toward me with his cone out-stretched. “Want some?”

“No thanks.”

He enters my personal space anyway, tosses the cone into the trashcan beside me, and then steps back. A little. Why is he grinning like that? And why is he standing so close, like he’s trying to smite me with his hotness?

“You wasted it,” I say.

“It was my second one. I’m full.” He pats his stomach.

I retreat until my back hits the wall. “You missed our meeting this morning.”

“I was at the dentist.”

Sympathy pains shoot through my teeth. “You eat ice cream after going to the dentist?”

“I eat ice cream after a lot of things.”

“You’re…weird.”

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