Page 52 of Absolutely Not in Love
The woman purses her lips. “Gracie, dear, do you think this is wise? When you told me, I assumed your neighbor was…” Her eyes dart to me for a quick second before she shifts them back to Gracie. “Well, anotherwoman.This feels very…untoward,” she finally finishes.
Before Gracie can answer, her student stands up, cello case in hand, and his eyes finally fall on me. “Holy Shi…itake mushrooms,” he says, his eyes darting to his mom.
“Carson!” she scolds. “Watch your language.”
“I said shiitake mushrooms,” he says defensively. “Besides, that’s…” He looks back at me. “You’re Felix Jamison.”
His mom looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Is that…someone I should know?”
“Felix plays hockey for the Appies,” Gracie says. She looks at Carson. “Are you a fan?”
He nods and swallows, his eyes never leaving me.
Suddenly sensing I ought to do more than just stand here, I move around the counter and extend a hand. “Hi, Carson,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You look a lot bigger in person,” he says.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
He holds out his cello lesson book. “Will you sign my book?”
“I think I can do better than that.” I move to my kitchen table where the jerseys Logan and Parker brought over are still sitting inside a giant, cardboard box. Next to the jerseys, there’s a stack of team posters, and I pull one out, then grab a sharpie out of the junk drawer in the kitchen. I sign it to Carson and hand it over.
“Cool, thanks!” he says.
His mom finally smiles at me, though it’s still tight. Is shethatworried about what I might do to Gracie while she’s staying here? “Should we expect to be here for lessons again next week?” she asks, directing her question to Gracie.
“I’ll text you and let you know,” Gracie says, ushering her out the door.
When they’re finally gone, she slides the door closed and slumps against it. “Sorry about that. Carson’s mom goes to church withmymom, and she’s always been a little bit…buttoned up.”
“I got that impression.”
She drops onto a barstool. “Believe me, it could have been worse. You’re lucky she didn’t mention fornication or deflowering. I promise both those words were crossing through her mind.”
I chuckle. “Deflowering, huh? That sounds…archaic.”
“Tell me about it. What are you cooking? And please tell me you aren’tonlycookingfor me. I can just warm up a pizza or something.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. I like the idea of cooking for her, but I don’t want to come on too strong. “I’m making spaghetti, and I’m happy to be cooking for you. But also, I’m going to be on the road for the next five days. I’d rather eat something home-cooked and good for me while I can.”
“You’re leaving already?” she asks, disappointment heavy in her tone. Her shoulders slump the slightest bit, which makes my heart pound harder in my chest.
Is she sad I’m leaving?
I’mdefinitelysad I’m leaving.
Gracie clears her throat, and when she speaks again, her words are bright and cheerful. “Where are you headed?”
I hide a grin. Sheissad I’m leaving.
“Up to New York,” I say. “And yeah. We leave first thing tomorrow morning. We’re playing three in three, Thursday through Saturday, then driving home Sunday morning.”
“Three games in three days,” she says. “Sounds brutal.”
“It will be.”
She’s quiet for a beat before she says, “Is it bad that I…?” Her words trail off, and I turn down the heat on the Italian sausage browning on the stove so I can face her.
