Page 74 of Over the Edge

“Can you at least admit this is a little awkward?” Her plea is purposefully exaggerated. “Can you at least do that because I feel like I’m going crazy. Oliver is doing the same exact thing because that’s what both of you always do.”

“Fine.” A laugh soars out of me. “It’s definitely awkward. But I really do just want you two to be comfortable and happy and know that I’m okay with it. That’s always going to be true.”

“You’re not going to pay off townspeople to spit in our food or anything?”

“Of course not,” I deadpan. “If I was going to be petty, I’d be far more original than that. Spitting in food has no shock factor.”

“If the hot water is suddenly shut off at the bed and breakfast?” she presses.

“Then you have a reason to be suspicious,” I confirm. “Now, go enjoy the hike and I’ll see you two tomorrow for dinner.”

“Will your fancy boyfriend be offended at the sight of boxed wine? Because if he will be you have to get rid of him,” she says seriously, and I know she’s not joking. Few things are sacred to Quinn, boxed wine is near the top of the list.

“He’ll survive,” I say.

“Good.”

When I reach Alina’s house, I hesitate for a moment deciding if I actually should go to check on Garrett. It’s not like he gave me any indication that anything is wrong. Still, if this means he’s headed back to the city earlier than he planned, at least this way we can talk about it as soon as possible. That doesn’t exactly appeal to me, but I’d rather know now than let it loom over me.

I park in the driveway behind his truck so I don’t block Alina in if she needs to leave. There’s something about coming here casually. There’s so much purpose to how Garrett and I meet up. We have our calendar invites that set clear boundaries, but over the last two days we’ve started to test them.

I’m almost tempted to send an invite to announce my presence, a gesture that would feel like a shield for the concern that’s building in my chest like a rapidly inflating balloon. At the door I take the lion’s head knocker and release it to percussively hit the metal plate behind it.

When the door opens a few minutes later, Alina is on the other side. She’s dressed in an orange kaftan and slippers. Her face is painted with a full face of makeup and reading glasses are perched at the end of her nose.

“Hello, dear girl.”

“Alina, it’s good to see you,” I say, a bit disappointed she’s the one to greet me.

“No need to flatter me. I know you’re not here for me,” she says curtly, and my cheeks heat.

“Is he still busy?”

“He’s finished with work.” She hesitates before adding, “but he’ll be upstairs for a while.”

“I can come back later.” I’m already shifting my weight to leave. This was a bad idea to show up unannounced. I should have at least texted to ask if it was okay to come over. I guess I just didn’t want him to say no.

“It should be another few hours before he gets up,” she explains, stepping back into the house to welcome me in.

“Up?”What is she talking about?

“He’s sleeping, managing a migraine. If he caught it in time it should only last until the afternoon,” she says plainly, like this is common. “But you’re here so you might as well keep me company. I know I’m entertaining enough for it not to be a chore. People don’t pay me like they used to, but I still shine.”

“You know what? I would love to stay a while.”

We head inside and I follow her to the kitchen as she starts an electric kettle. The backsplash is hand painted tile in shades of soothing blue. The oven is an old gas one. There’s a hominess to this place that I want to wrap up and reconstruct for myself. I have a moment picturing a younger Garrett here. I know this wasn’t his home, but I get the impression that he spent enough time here to at least consider it a secondary landing place during his childhood.

The China selection today is gold plated with clusters of little yellow flowers.

“Are the migraines new? I mean, when I visited the band on tour he never seemed to have them.” Or at least any that were bad enough to call attention to. Granted, I was usually spending time with Avery or Drew, but still I think I would have noticed.

“You knew him when he was doing music, yes?”

“Yeah, for the most part.” And even then I really only knew him in theory, as proven over and over again since I arrived here.

“He was happiest then. There were less things to be stressed about. I taught him to play and he hadit,” she says. Glowing pride is etched in every corner of her face. “You know what Imean, you haveittoo. Music likes you and you like it back. There are people who think it’s just playing the notes. Those are people who will never be good enough to be anyone.”

“And you had it too.”

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