Page 137 of Love is a Game

I shake my head. “Yeah, Pen. I’ll keep waiting around till you decide you’re ready. What else have I got to do with my life at this point?”

Her face brightens. “Great!”

It takes another four hours before I hear anything new from her.

Not like I need time tobook a flight, pack a bag, rent a car,or anything.

Eventually, a message pings through with a location pin, which is,surprise, surprise, Blue Mountain Lake.

Pen:11 AM Sunday

That’s it. No explanation. No hint of warmth. Just clipped and to the point. The kind of message that provides nothing to raise my hopes.

As if to drive home the point, the dropped pin she’s sent isn’t even placed properly—it’s floating somewhere in the waters of Blue Mountain Lake.

Still, there’s no pretending. Of course I’m going.

But first, I have to dodge a coordinated bombardment from my parents, who, for some inexplicable reason after I mention I’m coming, are hell-bent on picking me up from the airport.

Dad is on his third text. I patiently explain, again, that it’s a two-hour round trip for him. And it makes more sense for me to get a car.

Tag team time. Mom jumps in: “We just thought it’d be nice! No harm in a ride, right?”

I re-explain the logistics, but they’re weirdly insistent. Kind of strange, considering I was just in town. But there’s no time to dwell on whatever my parents are up to. Not when I have Pen to figure out.

And it sure doesn’t help that Sunday creeps around agonisingly slowly, with every waiting hour expanding the wedge of anticipation pressing against my ribs.

The countdown to see her is on.At last.

The end result? Anyone’s guess.

My flight is uneventful. Then, having successfully talked my parents down, I make good time on the drive. And despite how weird it is that Pen made a fixed time to meet—11 a.m.—I figure I’ll honor it.

The ball’s in her court. I’ll follow the rules she’s laid out and hope like hell that when we finally see each other, she hands me something I can believe in.

With time to kill, I hook up a call with Brady. It’s his day off—maybe we can grab coffee. And it’s not like a good pep talk could hurt at this stage.

Vivian answers instead, her voice rushed and strangely pitched.

“Tuck?!”

I frown. “Hey, everything alright? I’m heading into town, just checking if you guys are free for—”

“Oh! Uh…we’re actually prepping for a function. A…baby shower.”

I blink. “On a Sunday? Thought you swore Sundays were sacred?”

“Oh, wait! Brady’s just back.” She cuts off abruptly, and the line fills with muffled static.

Then Brady comes on.

“Tuckie-boy!” he crows brightly.

I shake my head. Maybe he’s on a caffeine high.

“Hey, no stress,” I say quickly. “I’ll call later. Vivian said you’re busy catering, so—”

“Yeah, yeah, got this thing today. Couldn’t say no. A big…birthday bash. Yeah. Sixtieth?”

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