Page 70 of Third Time Lucky

‘I’ve already had one near-distracted disaster, so you go ahead.’

She clears her throat, reading right from her phone. ‘Saturday night. 9p.m. 99W. Newberg. BYOC.’

I stare her way. Again, with the acronyms. ‘BYOC?’

‘Bring your own… cell phone? No. Obviously, we’re bringing those,’ Lucy says.

‘C,’ I say, flipping through words that begin with the letter. ‘Candy? Candles? Cake?’ I say, shaking my head.

‘Condoms?’ Mitzi throws in causing us both to freeze.

Lucy and I glance at one another, then at her.

‘You two act like I’ve never lived. Back in my day, birth control wasn’t as easy to get, so I bought condoms by the case sometimes. We had to march the streets to have it as easy as you kids do today.’

‘Well, we’re still marching those streets for the same reasons decades later. But, fun,’ Lucy says, scrunching her face. ‘A detail neither of us needed to know about your love life.’

Mitzi smirks, now intently staring at Google on her phone. ‘It’s a drive-in theater!’ she exclaims.

‘A drive-in theater…’ I repeat. ‘Bring your own – car?’ I question with a laugh. ‘They don’t want to share a vehicle with us?’

‘That seems like the right answer, knowing those two. You saw them at the dance, remember?’ Lucy says. ‘I don’t think we want to share a car with them.’

I laugh. She’s not wrong about that. So, not condoms, although knowing Aaron, he may have been silently insinuating that, too. My God, these two aren’t even a little bit subtle.

‘Sounds romantic,’ Mitzi says, her eyes glued to the paper before her, not even glancing in Lucy’s or my direction.

It does sound romantic, being in a car, alone, with Lucy, at night, for hours.

‘Are you OK with that?’ I cautiously ask, desperately hoping for a positive response.

She nods, a hint of excitement twinkling in her eyes. ‘It sounds like it could be fun.’

Whew. Seriously, my heart just took a relieving beat. We’ve been alone, but never for long. Maybe this will be the thing that breaks what feels like a curse? Surely, something’s got to give with all the passive flirting and silent conversations. Lucy’s right: this could be fun.

20

ASHER

Aaron and I make our way through the bustling restaurant, filled with contractors attempting to meet their deadlines. After what feels like ages of waiting, the kitchen is finally installed. It’s not yet functional, but it’s getting easier to picture. The sleek metal countertops gleam under the warm lighting, and every inch of space is optimized for efficiency.

We pass by the double butcher-block islands on opposite ends of the kitchen, and Aaron stops.

‘These individual islands are a stroke of genius,’ he remarks.

I nod, letting out a sigh of relief as I take in the sight. ‘Now I can pretend you’re not constantly turning everything into a race.’

Aaron chuckles, his eyes alight with amusement. ‘Oh, I’ll still be racing you – and winning,’ he responds playfully, ‘you just won’t see me doing it.’

I roll my eyes, knowing his competitive nature all too well. But as I look around the nearly finished kitchen, a sense of pride washes over me. My vision for this space is coming to life, and it’s even better than I imagined.

‘It’s going to be a dream cooking in here,’ I say.

As we reach the industrial-sized walk-in refrigerator, Aaron swings open the door and takes a quick peek inside.

‘We could fit a dead body in here, easy,’ he observes with a smile.

‘Or just one live naked one, handcuffed to the shelving,’ I remark.

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