Page 90 of How to Walk Away

“It’s closed at night. No one has to know.”

It was a “Valentine’s Day party,” even though it would happen on the first of April.

“Details,” Kit said, making apshawmotion. “Love can happen anytime.”

“Do you know that’s April Fools’?”

“Only you would notice that.”

“You realize what happened to me the last time it was Valentine’s Day,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

Of course she knew. We all knew. But I said it anyway. “I was in aplane crash.”

“Duh. I’m aware of that. I’m giving you a do-over.”

I shook my head. “No.”

But she had a fire in her eyes. “I’ll do everything. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll talk to the nurses, hang the decorations. I’ve got a vision! Little heart-shaped chocolates everywhere, punch that we’ll call ‘love potion,’ and Fat Benjamin’s got a chocolate fountain that he stole from a catering gig. Streamers, and karaoke with nothing but love songs, and I’ve got that old disco ball in my high school bedroom. I love stuff like this! Let me do something for you. Yes?”

Maybe it was because the kids’ craft fair was so unexpectedly charming, but I let out a long sigh, and as soon as my shoulders sank, she knew she’d won.

She held up her arms in victory.

“Who would you even invite?” I said. Then I pointed a warning at her: “Nobody from Facebook. No normal people, okay?”

“Just injured people. Just the folks on your floor. And the nurses. And anybody else good. Plus Fat Benjamin, of course.”

“Why do you have to do this?” I asked. “Let’s just eat tacos and watch TV.”

“I need to go out with a bang,” she said. “And guess what? So do you.”

That’s when it hit me. “You’ve already started planning this, haven’t you?”

She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but you know I can’t keep a secret.”

“You sneaky weasel!”

“I dare you to be mad,” she said, “when you’re drinking straight out of the chocolate fountain.”

Twenty

THE NEXT NIGHT,Kitty showed up with some astonishing information: I’d been granted a furlough.

She held out a box of spanakopita with a triumphant flourish and said, “Great news!”

I was knitting a new slug. “What?”

“We have an amazing birthday present for you.”

I had to think about it. Sure enough, my birthday was coming up on Sunday. “I forgot about my birthday,” I said.

“You are not going to believe how great your present is.”

“My face is back to normal?”

Kit frowned and then squinted at me. “Not quite,” she said. “But close.”

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