Page 23 of Drop Shot
“Not your fault.” I make a mental note to make an appointment ASAP to install the running boards on not just mine but her vehicle too.
Once she’s safely seated inside, I close her door and jog around to the driver’s side.
“You got me coffee,” she says almost accusingly.
“Yeah, I was picking some up for myself so I figured you might could use some as well.”
She grabs the waiting straw, undoing the paper and shoving it through the lid. “This is weird.”
“Me getting you coffee?” Confusion laces my question. What’s weird about coffee?
“You never get me coffee,” she says, taking a sip. “You let me charge mine to your card, but I’m always the one getting our coffee. I mean, I know it’s been my job so please don’t think I’m complaining. I’m not. It’s just weird is all.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Makes sense.”
I wonder if now, while she’s baffled over the coffee situation, is a good time to tell her I haven’t told my family. Probably not, but here goes nothing.
“I thought we could tell my parents and Ebba together about this thing.”
She chokes on her coffee, so perhaps I should have waited. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t told them yet.”
“You … Elias!” She swats my arm. “Are you kidding me? I told my family before we went to see them.”
“I’m sorry.” I shrug my shoulders practically up to my ears. “I know, fuck, I know I should’ve, but you know I’m not good at this kind of thing.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She sets her cup in the holder and crosses her arms over her chest.
“See, this is why I had you as my assistant, though,” I reason.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re an adult, Elias, and this relationship isn’t even real. You should be capable of having a conversation withyourfamily about this, but whatever. We’ll handle it when we get there.”
“Thank you.”
I know feeling anxious about telling my family is silly, but I can’t help it. I know they’re going to have over the top reactions. It’s in their nature. Even my dad.
“Do you want me to interview new assistants for you?” Whimsy asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.
The idea of working with someone new doesn’t sound appealing. I know that Whimsy can’t assist me anymore, but I don’t want anyone else.
“Nah,” I reply.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the quizzical look she sends my way. “Are you sure?”
I might need the help to keep my life straight, but that doesn’t mean I want it.
“Yeah,” I sigh. The idea of anyone but Whimsy helping me just doesn’t sit right.
“Well, if you change your mind let me know.”
“Will do.” I tap my thumbs against the wheel.
Miami traffic is brutal. We’re late by the time we make it to the restaurant. A text from my sister says to meet them on the patio out back.
Whimsy follows me through the restaurant, grabbing my arm before we step onto the patio.
I slow my steps to a stop and look down at her. “Should we hold hands or something?” she asks, lips scrunching. “I mean, a couple that’s newly dating would hold hands, right? And that should kind of give it away right from the get go without us having to explain?”
