Page 47 of Absolutely Not in Love
Felix:Chicken marsala, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted green beans
Gracie:Oh my gosh I might cry.
Gracie:You’re spoiling me.
I want to spoil her. If she’ll let me.
Felix:Eat as much as you want.
Gracie:Thanks, Felix.
After her last text, she sends one of those emojis that I think is supposed to be a hug, the one surrounded by hearts?
I don’t know what it means. I’m not young enough or hip enough to know how to interpret emojis beyond knowing that I should never, under any circumstances, send anyone an eggplant or a peach.
I just know that this one makes me smile for the rest of the night.
Chapter Eleven
Gracie
“Areyoutextingaguy? Please tell me you’re texting a guy.”
Josh drops into the chair beside me in the back corner of the ER waiting room with the kind of flourish that typically marks all his movements. The man is never subtle. Wherever he goes, he goes loudly. Whatever he says, he projects for an entire room to hear. He’s always been that way.
I hold my phone close to my chest. “Why do you care who I’m texting?”
Read: if I am texting a guy, I’m definitely not telling you about it.
“Because I’mbored,Gracie. And I hate hospitals and you texting a guy would be a nice distraction when I really need one.” He reaches for my phone. “Come on. Spill it. You’ve been staring at that thing for the last ten minutes.”
I shrug out of his reach. “Stop it. You can’t have my phone. Who I’m texting is none of your business.”
He smirks. “So itisa guy.”
Josh would honestly lose his mind if he knew who I was texting. Which is all the more reason to keep my phone far out of his reach.
I drop it into my bag and zip up the outside pocket—even Josh isn’t bold enough to go digging in a closed bag—and tighten the scarf I’m still wearing around my neck even though I’ve been inside the Mercy General emergency room with my family for going on—I glance at my watch—five hours now? Since I left the school. I don’t know if the hospital really has been chilly or if it’s only my uneasiness making me cold. I don’t like hospitals, but then, does anyone really?
“Any new updates on Dad?”
Josh shakes his head no. “I was just talking to a guy outside—a Doctor Sharpe? He isn’t Dad’s doctor, but he said he’d check in and see if he could figure out why we’re still waiting.”
“I’d rather we wait and know for sure than have them send him home so he can have an actual heart attack in an hour.”
Josh is quiet for a beat before he nudges my knee and says, “Do you think this will scare him into making some changes?”
“Like what?” My stomach grumbles, and I press a hand against it. The vending machine coffee and pack of crackers I split with Josh an hour ago haven’t done much to quell my hunger. We should have just gone over to the hospital cafeteria to grab something to eat, but Mom has texted us at least a dozen times that they’re “almost finished” so we kept putting it off, thinking we’d much prefer to get better foodoutsidethe hospital.
Now, though, I wouldn’t go to the hospital cafeteria even if itwasstill open, which it isn’t.
Because I have leftover chicken marsala waiting for me.
Warmth fills my belly, a tingling sense of anticipation skating down my limbs and out to my toes and fingertips, one that doesn’t have anything to do with the food. It’s all I can do not to pull out my phone and see if Felix has texted again.
I look at Josh and frown.Stupid nosy brother.
“I don’t know,” Josh finally answers. “His diet is terrible. All that fried bar food. And the most exercise he ever gets is jumping out of his chair every time his team scores.” Josh runs a hand through his hair, real concern reflecting in his eyes. “I just want him to be around, you know?”
