Page 34 of Sounds Like Love

“I am going to go walk into the sea, where I may drown.”

“Good luck,” I hissed, “because shit floats.”

I didn’t hear from him again, but Dad did come in to check on me because he’d heard me talking to myself, and I never did get the rest of the suds out of my hair. I deleted my entire playlist. Eternity would be too soon to listen to it again.

Gigi was already seated at Citrus, reading down the sparse menu, by the time I got there. My hair was crunchy from the dried suds, but I hoped it just looked like hair gel.

“Did you ever use his cookbook?” she asked, flipping the menu over.

“I don’t really cook,” I replied, slipping into the chair opposite her. The designer had done a good job renovating the old Presbyterian church, keeping its farm-style decor while adding a bit of life to the wooden rafters and beautiful stained glass.There were hanging vines in stone pots that looked like statues, and large wagonwheel chandeliers draped from the ceiling. A few paintings hung on the walls, all beautiful watercolor landscapes of places I’d never been, though there was a brown-haired woman messing with one of them on the other side of the restaurant, trying to level it correctly. She didn’t seem satisfied.

“I love most of his stuff, but the lemon pie was a total miss,” Gigi said, handing the menu to me. “Too sweet.”

“Then I won’t suggest the lemon pie,” said a man as he came up to the table. Gigi and I both glanced up, and he smiled at us. He had reddish-brown hair and gray eyes, his freckled skin blushed with sunburn.

Gigi returned the smile. “Been too long, Ashton.”

The handsome man winked at her and then slid his gaze over to me. “Nice to see you both. Congrats on everything, Joni. I always figured you’d break out.”

“I didn’t know you were in town!” I hopped to my feet and hugged him. Gigi did the same.

“I sort of did,” she admitted.

The woman who had been straightening one of the paintings came over. “Iwan, do you have a level? I think the Leaning Tower is crooked …”

“I would be alarmed if it wasn’t?” he replied, and she gave him a dry look.

He drew her close and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll get that for you in a minute. Lemon, this is Gigi and Joni,” he added, motioning to us. The woman was about our age—early thirties—with a blunt-cut brown bob and a heart-shaped face. Her nails were painted a lovely pale yellow, and there were paint smudges on her fingertips.“Joni’s the songwriter who wrote that Willa Grey song you’re obsessed with.”

The woman, Lemon, lit up. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Clementine,” she added, outstretching her hand to me. “Ilovethat song. And I want you to know if I ever find out who the guy is who inspired it, put me in, Coach, I’ll fight the son of a bitch.”

I actually laughed at that. “Noted.”

“Get in line,” Gigi added, and everyone laughed.

Gigi and I decided to trust whatever Iwan wanted to order for us, to surprise us, so he did just that. And his girlfriend found a level to go fix the painting.

“I hope with a restaurant here it’ll mean you’ll come back more often?” Gigi asked.

He shrugged. “Probably. Mom’s renting out her house. She couldn’t bear to sell it. You ready to go, Lemon?” he added to Clementine as she returned with the level.

“I think I just painted it crooked,” she admitted, and checked her watch. “Oh, we shoulddefinitelygo, or we’ll miss our flight.”

“Right. It was nice seeing you two,” he said to us, and then tapped the table. “Also, your check is covered—no exceptions. My treat, yeah?” Then he hugged us one last time, before he and his girlfriend spirited themselves out the door to some great unknown.

Gigi watched them go with a look of wistfulness. “I never thought Iwan would settle down,” she commented. “But he looks so happy, you know? It’s nice.”

I couldn’t pick out which part she thought was nice—the fact that he looked happy, or the desire to settle down? I wondered if that was a clue. Didshewant to settle down? Had Mitch asked already, or was he waiting for the perfect moment? And either way—why hadn’t either of them told me anything?

Guess I had to do it myself.

“Do you think you will?” I asked, as subtle as a freight train.

She feigned naivete. “What do you mean?”

“You and Mitch. Do you think, if he ever asks, you’ll settle down?”

Gigi straightened her silverware, not meeting my gaze.

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