Page 23 of Fall For You

“Your cousin?” I repeat blankly. “I’m not sure who…?’

“I’m talking about Carter, of course. I’m assuming you’ve spoken about this with him?”

“You and Carter are cousins?” I wrack my brains but, I’m pretty sure I never knew that.

“Second cousins once removed, on his mother’s side, but yes.”

“Oh, Well, uh…he’s been really helpful,” I say, trying for a casual tone. I’m not sure how much Carter would want me to say. “Did you know that he’s been bringing her meals while she’s been laid up, so she wouldn’t have to cook? Vi and I both appreciate the help. But, other than that, he and I really haven’t talked all that much—except about the big dinner he’s planning for Valentine’s Day. Which is something I need to talk to you about, as well.”

“What dinner?” Bev asks crossly. “What on earth are you talking about now? And what’s any of it got to do with me?”

I sneak another cookie and briefly explain the situation, ending with, “Actually, this is all Vi’s fault. It was her idea that I help out, so…”

Bev snorts and rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it was. That sounds just like her, the meddlesome old fool.”

“So, anyway,” I say. “About the centerpieces…”

Bev brushes my inquiry aside. “I don’t want to hear any more about these dishes—or whatever it is you need. Take whatever you want. That’s not why I called you and told you to come home. It’s not what you’re supposed to be here for. And it’s certainly not what you should be focusing on right now.”

“I’m not sure what I—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Then get sure,” she snaps. “Stop letting Carter turn your head and distract you with nonsense. He’s always been shockingly good at that. But you’re Vi’s next of kin, aren’t you? You need to stop gallivanting around and act like it!”

“How?” I ask, feeling confused and alarmed. “I mean, what do you?—”

“Go and talk to her doctors again,” Bev insists. “That’s what I would do, if I were in your place. And this time, demand some answers! Your aunt is counting on you!”

I’m pretty sure my aunt isnotcounting on me for anything of the sort. But I know better than to argue with stubborn septuagenarians. I had enough ofthatearlier in the week when Vi unexpectedly insisted that Carter accompany us to her doctor’s appointment.

“It’s not a problem,” Carter had assured me, after Vi virtually ordered me to call him—so obstinately that even her nurse had urged me to give into her demands. “She probably just doesn’t trust your driving.”

“Well, I don’t know what that says about you,” I told him. “Since you’re the one who taught me.”

“You know what they say, the poor workman blames his tools. Although I guess, in this case, it’s more like the poor student blames her teacher.”

I gasped in surprise. “Oh, you didnotjust say that?”

He laughed in response, amused by my outrage. “You know I’m just teasing you, right?”

“Jerk,” I replied in sulky tones. But I was smiling as I said it. It had been too long since we’d interacted like this—relaxed and friendly, teasing each other, giving each other shit. I’d missed it.

“Anyway, relax. We got this. I’ll be there in a few.”

“You’d better.”

Luckily,Bev’s assessment of my injury proves correct. My ankle feels much better after a short rest. I sooth Bev’s ruffledfeathers with assurances that I’ll involve myself even more than I already have in my aunt’s care, and promises to return in a few days—with my car—to pick up the glasses that I’m not able to carry home today. Then I walk the rest of the way home.

The day has grown warmer, the fog has burned away, my thoughts keep drifting back to last night, to Carter to how good it feels to be with him. I’m smiling as I let myself into the house.

Vi is taking another nap. I check in with her nurse, then head for the kitchen, to make myself an early lunch. On the way, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

When can I see you again?

The smile that breaks across my face, the fluttering in my chest, the out-of-control giddiness that makes me want to break out in song, or start dancing around the foyer are all signs that I’m in big, big trouble. If I had any sense at all, I’d be pumping the brakes right now. Instead, I’m all: moth, meet flame.

And I don’t waste any time at all in texting back:

How about tonight?

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