Page 52 of Every Broken Promise
Oh, here went nothing.
“I’d like to do something a bit different with my column. I know the feel-good stories aren’t doing much for anyone anymore. Not when we have the anonymous column, and that’s partly my fault.”
“Oh, your little section has gained us subscribers, don’t think what you do is in vain.”
I ignored his comment about my “little section” and kept going.
“I’d like to do interviews and highlights for all the different mom-and-pop shops in the county. I think it would be great for everyone involved.”
Ronnie didn’t even stop to think it over.
“I think that’s amazing. Yeah, go ahead and do it. You need anything, come to me, and I’ll help you out.”
I smiled, but I couldn’t vocalize my thanks. A part of me wished he would have hesitated. His instant approval and his comments kept me wondering if I was losing my mind.
“Thank you, Ronnie,” I mumbled as I began to retreat back to my desk.
“Anything for my employees,” he called after me.
Taking my phone out, I pulled up Rachel’s contact.
Me: Can we please go out to drink?
Rachel: I thought you were too old to hang out anymore.
Me: I’m willing to give it another shot.
Rachel: Even if that involves Tyler?
Me: Shut your mouth or I’m taking your coffee maker. You don’t deserve it.
Me: Let’s go to that bar in Willow Grove.
Rachel: I could use a drink.
“I can’t believewe let that random cop drive us home,” Rachel told me.
Our night in Willow Grove had been uneventful but successful. We got so drunk that we had to leave Rachel’s car at the bar. Since Rachel didn’t talk to anyone other than yours truly, and no way in hell was I going to wake my parents up because of some drunk shenanigans, we were stuck walking home.
It wasn’t a long walk between the two towns. It could be done in about twenty minutes if you were speedy. However, we were not speedy. Lucky for us, some cop was able to give us a ride.
“He was cute,” I told her as if that made him trustworthy. In my experience, the hotter the guy, the bigger the ego. And everyone knew big egos were just trouble.
“He could have been a serial killer,” she argued.
“We are home. We are safe. Now go to bed.” I shooed her toward her house so I could do the same and go to mine.
“Night, Astrid. I had fun.”
“Me too!”
I waited for her to enter her door before stepping toward mine. I made it to my porch, but I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.
I should have been sleepy, but for some insane reason, I was too wired to lie down. I looked at my door and then at the road.
Fuck it.
Before I knew it, my feet had begun to do their own thing.
