Page 47 of First Love, Second Draft

Matt:Not much other than I’m guessing he must look a lot like Luke.

Noah:I’m starting to wish I’d been the one to drop you in the dunk tank this afternoon.

Matt:You heard about that?

Noah:Even Sam Elliott heard about that.

Matt:Did Sam Elliott hear about your little bathtub episode with Aunt Gracie?

Noah:Hey. We’re supposed to be talking about Luke.

Matt:Right. What do you want to know?

Noah:Not sure. Guess I just want to know if I need to be worried about Luke and Gracie having any little bathtub episodes together.

Matt:Thanks for that disturbing mental image. And no, I don’t think so.

Noah:What makes you say that?

Matt:Well, to steal a line from Grandpa, I’ve seen more spark between a limp worm and a dead fish than I’ve seen between Luke and Gracie.

Noah:I love Buck.

Matt:He’s the best. Any other questions?

Noah:Guess not.

Matt:Can I ask what’s going on with you and Aunt Gracie?

Noah:You can ask. Not sure I can answer. It’s complicated.

Matt:I get it. I’m still trying to find a few answers myself.

Noah:About you and Rachel?

Matt:About Sam Elliott.

23

Later that evening, once Matt had finally warmed up from the dunk tank incident, he headed over to Rachel’s house. No need to bust down any doors. She answered on the first knock.

“Matt. Hi. What are you doing here?” Rachel stood on the other side of the screen door, her hair piled high in a crazy bun with gray paint smudges all over her cheeks and chin.

How could anyone look so beautiful with paint smeared all over their face?

He cleared his throat. “I thought we were painting your living room tonight. I brought pizza.” Matt lifted the carboard box for evidence. “We talked about this. Remember?”

She obviously remembered. She held a wet paintbrush that was dripping all over the floor.

“Right. I just wasn’t sure if you were still coming since... you know, we hadn’t talked about it since we first talked about it.” She opened the screen door and waved him in, accidentally brushing his left arm with paint on his way past.

“We first talked about it yesterday.” He examined the streak of paint on his arm, then noticed two giant drops on his shoe. Which led him to discovering a trail of gray-painted footprints all over her carpeted living room floor. Way things were looking, he’d be luckyto snag a piece of pizza that wasn’t splattered in paint by the time he made it to her kitchen.

The screen door slammed shut as her footsteps creaked after him from the entryway. “Yeah, but a lot has happened since we first talked about it yesterday. I mean, for starters you were out in public wearing nothing but your undies again. Which I can’t help thinking is starting to be a habit for you, one you should definitely kick before winter arrives.”

“I’ll work on it.” He slid the jar of flowers on her kitchen table over so he could make room for the pizza and the real conversation they needed to have. The one about Aimee. And everything she said before he fell in the tank earlier this afternoon.

Admit it. You love Rachel. You’ve always loved Rachel. Just say it. Say it, say it, say it. You love her. You want her. Just say it.

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