Page 19 of Red Flag, Green Light

My attention span is not built for drafting, alone, in my room, with no one to talk to about what I’m doing after every chapter. It wasn’t even built for proofreading.

Which is why I went on a hunt and found my darling Sara…

My darling Sara who, shortly, will be heading to the grocery store. All by her lonesome. To pick up an order I absolutely have not meddled with…

Perfectly timed, the alarm for my cake goes off, so I get it out, check that all things for today’s totally healthy scheme are ready while it cools in the cake pan, then pop it onto the rack before I grab my keys and leave my driveway minutes after Ceres has left hers.

Date number two, here we go.

Chapter Six

This nearly ruined my life.

Ceres

“I’m so sorry, Ceres. I don’t know what happened. I guess the system glitched. It’s not unheard of when there’s an unusually heavy amount of site traffic,” Amelia says, while I stare at my phone.

My grocery order…has been canceled. But I definitely didn’t cancel it.

Often, the brands I like aren’t always available, so I’ll get replacements, and sometimes those replacements aren’t close enough to my usual brand to keep me from wanting to curl up and die, so I go without, but…to go withouteverything? After I got in my car and drove all the way out here?

Even if I replace the order, it’ll be hours before it’s ready again.

I either have to shopinside, or go home and try again later and—

Amelia makes a soft, distressed sound that heightens the panic growing in my chest. She’s chewing her lip when I force myself to look out my car window at her. Softly, she says, “All our pickup times are full until Monday…”

“Monday?” I whisper.

She nods. “I’m so sorry, Ceres. It’s the weekend before a holiday. People are getting ready for it and trying to save some time.”

Yeah. And the rest of the people getting ready for it arecurrentlyinsidethe building.

I am out of food.

Completely out.

I don’t even have rice left. I am stringent about my meal plan and my shopping day. It’s a strict, careful process that involves pushing the limit on how few times Imustgo beyond my driveway.

“Mel?” a familiar voice as of yesterday calls, cutting through the rising tempo of my heart.

Amelia turns, pushing a lock of hair not trapped in her pristine bun over her ear. A glowing smile appears on her face. “Hi, Mars.”

Mars. Ofcourseit’s Mars.

What isMarsdoing here?

Trying to swallow the heartbeat in my throat, I look back as he approaches, hands tucked in his leather jacket pockets. “It’s been a minute since we last crossed paths. Are they still giving you weird hours?”

Amelia’s brightness siphons off, and she sags. “They really are. Sometimes they have me out here. Sometimes they have me stocking overnight. It’s a mess. But I need the shifts.”

“And they know that,” Mars offers, tone as gentle as it is firm. “They’re taking advantage of you, Mel.”

Her gaze falls. “Yeah. I know. But. What else am I supposed to do? I need the job, and so do a lot of other people. Anyone can do this stuff. I’m replaceable.”

Mars shakes his head, lifts a finger, and pokes Amelia between the brows. “Only with that kind of attitude.” His attention shifts toward my window, and his lips part. “Oh. Well. I was going to ask if this customer was giving you any trouble since you’d been standing here the entire time it took me to walk up from the back of the lot, but—” His white teeth flash. “—my little goddess would never give a service worker any trouble.”

I thinkmyeye is about to twitch.

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