Page 6 of A Dash of You

With a relaxing sigh, she goes for it. “My only question right now is… how are you doing?”

I pretend to study the orange painted mug bursting with yellow sunflowers because that’s a loaded question. HowamI doing? On one side of the spectrum, I’m relieved. But I am completely and utterly terrified. How can I live as if the past twelve years never happened?

“I expected a more intense question,” I say, taking a sip of coffee.

“Like?”

“Like…” I set down my mug, leaning forward on her cute nineteen fifties diner table. “What the hell happened, Sora? Why haven’t I heard or seen from you in years? All fair questions to want answers to.”

Lana doesn’t know the full story. She only knows the bare minimum. And a story I half made up. I met a guy and we got married. The end.

“Actually, fuck that. What I really want to ask is, what took you so damn long?”

I smirk. There’s my best friend I know and love.

She met Jason once. At our wedding. Without pleading, she wouldn't have received an invitation. As far as my old life was concerned, Jason made it clear that it was dead and gone. But after heavily convincing him on my part, he allowed her to attend. I stressed that her absence from what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life would raise questions about why my best friend wasn't there. To her, he was fine. A regular sophisticated businessman, but when she found how much older he was than me… shit hit the fan. Lana called him a predator, and well, she wasn’t entirely wrong. He is the man hiding behind an invisible mask.

“There’s always a straw that broke the camel's back,” I tell her. And there was. The push I finally needed and wanted.

“Okay.” She studies my reaction with a jaw clenching tension. “I know you better than anyone, and I know you aren’t ready to talk about it. But when youareready, I’ll be here to listen.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

“I know.” She smiles. “But you are going to tell me what happened between you running away and sleeping in my driveway.In your car.”

I flash a toothy smile and tell her the wild story of my late-night shenanigans starting and ending with Mr. Grump.

“Ohhhh. So, you met Logan.” She smiles over the brim of her mug.

Logan.So, his name is Logan, and she apparently knows him.

“I called him George.”

She snorts, sending a splash over the rim. “You called him George? Why?”

“The sign. I thought it was his shop.” I sheepishly shrug, thinking it to be a reasonable mistake.

“Ah. Technically, it is his shop. But George was his father.”

I wait for Lana to elaborate, but when she doesn’t, I don’t push. It isn’t her story to tell, and she must understand that.

She gets up, then sets her empty cup in the sink. “I suppose I should mention the plot twist in all this. Your grumpy tow truck man lives next door.”

I choke on my coffee, letting out a cough before catching my breath. “Come again? Next door. Like… he shares a wall with you? This wall?” I thought I’d never have to show my face around him ever again. What are the odds? Apparently high.

She laughs. “Calm down. He’s barely ever home. I think he sleeps at the shop a lot. Guess it makes sense if he’s on call at night.”

Guess it does.

“He’s not that bad. Mostly quiet, perhaps a little grouchy, but he’s a softie underneath all that bigness.” Her sly grin has me wondering if there’s a hidden meaning behind the word choice of big.

“His bigness, Lana?” I ask in chuckle.

“I meant because of his large size.”

“Mmmm,” I hum.

“Ugh, his body size. Not his…” She pauses. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s packing one hell of—”

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