Page 29 of Fluffed and Folded

“In this economy, you could never afford to feed them,” Tristan inserted.

Josie eyed him. “Should I be concerned that you’ve done the math on that?”

“This one’s not crazy,” Eli said. He fired off a text to Sheena and tucked his phone away. “It’s kind of freaking me out how normal she is. With the others, it was glaringly obvious why they were unattached. Now I’m wondering what is secretly wrong with this one.”

“Maybe it’s not her; maybe it’s the men she’s met,” Josie suggested. “Think about it—there’s you, nice, normal you, who hasn’t met someone for a variety of reasons. Now you start to date, and you’re hit with a bevy of beautiful bananas.”

“Alliteration,” Eli said. He kissed his fingers and sent them into the air, a sign of his appreciation.

Josie gave a little nod of acknowledgment and continued, while Tristan continued to eat and ignored them both. “Maybe it’s the same for Sheena. She was shy or a late bloomer or working on her degree, and now that she’s in the market, she’s probably also met her fair share of losers and weirdos. Maybe this has been a matter of timing for both of you.”

Josie was sunshine and rainbows, a walking beam of optimism. But sometimes that was what Eli needed in his life, to keep the cynicism from taking over. So even though he rationally knew she was probably wrong and he shouldn’t accept her too-pat answers, he allowed himself to be comforted by her explanation. There was nothing wrong with Sheena, and there was nothing wrong with him. It was merely a matter of wrong timing.

“Speaking of time, I have to go. We’re meeting for ice cream.”

“An ice cream date,” Josie gasped. “That is so cute. Why don’t we ever do ice cream dates?” She turned accusing eyes on Tristan.

“All I’m doing is quietly eating chicken. How did I get thrown under the bus?” Tristan mused.

Eli stacked his dishes by the sink, said goodbye, and disappeared. “Do you want to go for ice cream?” Tristan asked, still not certain if he was mysteriously in trouble.

“No. Do you know what I want to do?” Josie returned.

“Probably not,” Tristan said. It was never what he thought it would be. On the plus side, it was usually something better. Not this time, though.

“I want to go meet your new neighbors.”

He groaned.

She poked his bicep. “You know it’s yourjobto meet and interview these people.”

“Yes, but I’m supposed to eke out of my hiding spot unwillingly, not be dragged out by my overly friendly girlfriend who will be so pleasant they’ll all love you and, by extension, think better of me.” He shuddered. “What if they’re fooled into believing I’m actually friendly?”

“I promise to only be minimally charming,” she tried.

He pointed an accusing finger at her. “We both know that’s not possible. You will woo them with perkiness and cardigans.”

“Not everything that worked on you works on others,” she reasoned.

That calmed him somewhat. “Okay, but don’t make follow up plans with anyone. I am not joining a supper club with these people.”

Josie clasped her hands together. “A supper club sounds so fun. Maybe we could…”

He gave her a look.

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll hold off on filling our social calendar.”

“Good, thank you.”

“For now,” she added in a muttered aside, then took his hand and drew him out of the apartment and into the light.

CHAPTER 17

“Ifeel like the prison guard who escorted Marie Antoinette to the guillotine,” Josie said when they stepped out of the apartment.

“How am I Marie Antoinette in this scenario?” Tristan asked.

“I don’t know the names of any of the other royals who were led to the guillotine.” Josie shaded her eyes against the setting sun. “Want to flip a coin to see where we begin?” he asked.

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