Page 37 of Finally Home

“Was the weekend everything you thought it would be?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure anything could have prepared me for it. I mean, she said her family was bad. But I’m pretty sure the Manson family would be a better candidate for Family of the Year than the Armstrongs.”

Rhyland scrubs his hands over his face and exhales a loud breath. “Wow, that bad, huh?”

“Going into this weekend, I thought maybe Holls had exaggerated, but hot damn, it was fucking bad. I’m not sure who won the biggest dick award—and I’m not talking about the appendage between his legs either.” I fill him in on all the shitty antics that we dealt with between the cold shoulder Hollie received from her family, me wanting to punch her dumbass of an ex multiple times, and the wonderful end of the weekend farewell. Of course, I leave out that we skipped out on the party early to head to our room. Rhyland might be my best friend, but hey, some things should remain private.

“So, you guys went on a date while there, too?” Rhyland follows up his question with a long hum.

“Yeah. I wanted to get her out of the hotel. She needed to get out of her head, so I thought it would be fun.”

“And was it?”

“Absolutely.” I pull out my phone to show him photos we took at the golf course. Rhyland barks out laughter at the photos Hollie took of me on hole six, which was a cruise ship that I’m pretty sure wasTitanic-inspired. The ship itself didn’t have a name, but you had to hit the ball through a maze of icebergs, so anyone can figure that one out.

“What can I say, inspiration struck,” I say, referring to the image where I had ignored the sign that said “do not climb on ship,” and I did such that, and Hollie snapped a photo whereI looked like Leonardo DiCaprio in the movieTitanic, shouting that I was king of the world. It honestly wasn’t far off from how I was feeling.

He’s still swiping at the photos taken this weekend when the first customer comes in. I leave him with my phone while I welcome them to Tilley’s and get their drinks going.

Rhy walks over, holding out my phone. “Your girl texted. She’s at the store and wondering which deli cheese you prefer. How very domesticated of you.”

I blow off his comment and grab my phone. “Stop reading my text messages, ya dick.”

“Like you have anything to hide.”

“Get your ass back in the kitchen where you belong,” I tease, tossing a dishrag in his direction, narrowly missing his face.

He flips me off before heading back into the kitchen. “Tell her I say smoked gouda all the way.”

After checking on my customer, I lean back against the bar and read her messages.

Hollie:American or Pepper Jack?

Hollie:I probably should have prefaced that with I’m standing in the deli aisle and need to know if you have a cheese preference.

Me:I don’t have a preference. Both are delicious.

Hollie:Okay, sorry to bother you at work.

Me:It’s okay, we just opened. Mondays are a bit on the slow end, anyway.

Hollie:*picture of hot dog section*

Hollie:Who knew there were so many types of hot dogs? Did the Great Wiener Bandit of Elmhurst have a favorite?

This girl. I shake my head and smirk. Thank God Rhy had my phone when she asked about the cheese and not this photo.

Me:Nope, I really just bought whatever was the cheapest, to be honest. Buying so many packs got to be quite expensive.

Me:Since you sent me a photo full of wieners, is that equivalent to you sending me a dick pic? Should I return the favor?

Hollie:OMG! What is wrong with you?! I just laughed so loud that I caused the old lady in front of me to drop the item she was grabbing off the shelf. Thank God she wasn’t reaching for a glass jar or something that could have hurt her. Then we both would have to go on the lam from the local PD.

Me:Ooh the Wiener Bandit and Grocery Store Menace have a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Me:Could make for a great children’s book series. LoL.

Hollie:There is definitely something wrong with you. I just can’t. I’m finishing up shopping and getting the hell out of dodge before anyone else might come into my path.

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