Page 32 of Unlikely You

“How would you feel about lobster?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, it’s been forever since I’ve had lobster. I’m in. As long as we get to have ice cream after. I amcravinga brownie sundae.” She rolled with my suggestion, walking beside me as if we were the best of friends who had done this dozens of times.

There was a line at the window to order, so we had to wait.

“What have you been up to today?” she asked, turning to face me.

“Nothing,” I said. She might have convinced me to come, but she couldn’t get me to talk. I wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

“You must work a ton when you’re not at the marketplace. You do everything yourself, right?”

Great. Now she wanted to talk shop.

“Yes, I do everything myself.” Why wasn’t this line moving faster?

“I can’t imagine. I mean, I also do most everything myself, but my parents do a lot, and my siblings sometimes help.” From what I saw, Honey was the CEO of Holloway Apiary.

“My parents bought the farm the year I started high school. All of their friends thought they were crazy, but my parents are the kinds of people who buy a falling-down farm and fix it up.”

She took her hair down from the clip and then twisted it back up again while I tried my best not to stare at any part of her body. Especially not her tits. They were off limits.

The line was still barely moving.

“My mom’s like a musical prodigy, but she hated school, so she’s always taught private music lessons and my dad worked as an elementary school music teacher for years and got burned out on it. So now they tend the bees and give classes and force us kids to do music instead.”

“That explains the singing,” I found myself saying.

Honey beamed next to me. “Sorry if it’s a lot. We kind of tend to forget that not everyone is singing all the time. It’s normal in our house. I have to remind myself not to sing when I’m out and about.”

I’d been right about her. They lived like they were in a musical. Unbelievable.

The line finally started to move, and I realized I needed to figure out what I wanted to order.

“What are you getting?” Honey asked, leaning close to me to see the menu board.

“Lobster roll. Onion rings. Soda.” Basic order, but it was what I wanted.

“Ohhh, that sounds perfect. I’m going to get the same thing.” I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

Honey ordered for us and was all sweetness and light with the person taking the order, making him laugh. He probably thought she was flirting with him. Honey must get people hitting on her constantly. That was why you didn’t walk around being so nice all the time. People would misinterpret it.

She pulled a few dollars from her bag and stuffed them in the tip jar before we both moved to the pickup window to wait. There were several picnic tables that were covered in red paint that had been warmed by the sun and covered in ketchup stains and stray french fries.

I sat down and Honey took the spot right next to me.

“What a gorgeous day.” She tilted her head up and basked in the sun. As if she wasn’t a fallen ray of sun herself.

Pulling my sunglasses out of my bag, I put them on and made a sound of agreement.

“You think you’re going to annoy me or make me stop talking if you respond like that, but that’s okay. I’ll keep talking until you tell me to shut up.”

I opened my mouth to tell her to shut up, but the words stuck in my throat. I wanted to be mean to this woman, but I couldn’t. How could anyone be mean to someone so lovely with bees on her dress? Honey was the kind of person who always tipped, who helped elderly people across the street, who didn’t lie on her taxes and looked forward to jury duty. Golden goodness. I bet her siblings hated her.

She let out a little sigh and leaned back with her elbows on the top of the picnic table.

“So, Bren, what do you do for fun?”

Did I want to answer her? No. Did I answer her? Yes.

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