Page 100 of Tender Heart
But my mood is ruined.
“What was that all about?” Evie asks, worry lining her eyes, her words tender.
“Just the status quo. Forget it. Let’s grab some food.”
“Sure, let me tell Iris where we’re going.”
She wanders to the stall my sister stands by chatting to one of the women from the small business association. Evie leans in, and when Iris nods and she returns to me, my stalled-out breath flies free.
“Oh, hi Eve!” A woman’s shrill voice calls out before Evie reaches me.
Evie spins back. “Sherry, hi.”
“My goodness, I haven’t seen you at the library for weeks. Too busy writing, hey?”
“Mostly, yeah,” Evie says with a chuckle.
“Did you come across by yourself?” Sherry is looking past Evie, searching until her gaze finds me. The pleasant look on her face fades to something more like a toddler sucking a lemon. “Oh, I forgot...”
“Forgot what?” Evie says, her tone changing.
“Never mind. I guess... You have a good night. I might see you later.” She feigns a smile and shakes a feeble wave before disappearing through the crowd.
Evie closes the space between us. When big, confused brown eyes meet mine, she tilts her head. “What was that?”
“Status quo. Told you.”
“Are you serious? I thought you were being dramatic. Or pensive or something, not...” She glances back over her shoulder at the crowd of Bay Shore folks. “This.”
“We can leave if you want to. Iris won’t care too much.”
“Doyouwant to leave?”
“The fireworks have always been my favorite.” I smile, but it’s sad.
“Then we’re staying. Come on, let’s find some dessert.” She walks through the crowd like a woman on a mission. The sway of her pretty dress, the lilt of her hips as she goes, captivates me. Hard-pressed to drag my eyes from her ass, I clear my throat and catch up. She stops at an ice cream truck and waits as I file in beside her, and we scan the menu to the side of the large serving window.
“Hi, can I grab a vanilla cone with chocolate syrup?” Evie asks. The woman in the truck swings her stare between Evie and me. The woman hesitates, and Evie steps forward. “Can I order, please?”
“That it?” the woman snaps loudly. People turn and stare.
Evie flinches as she notices the eyes on us. But she simply turns back, brown eyes imploring my own.
“No, actually. Cal, what would you like?”
The woman, who I vaguely recognize as one of the cashiers down at the convenience store, sets her jaw.
“I’ll have the same,” I finally reply. Heat lances my veins as I’m annoyed for the second time tonight.
“Great,” Evie says with a smile. “Two, please.”
The woman taps the screen on her device and holds it out for payment. I tug my wallet from my pocket and slip a card out. The woman sets her shoulders back, moving the small payment system out of reach as I hold the card out.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Evie murmurs, the first glare I’ve seen on her face in a long while settling on the woman. The woman relents, lowering the device the slightest bit, and I tap my card.
That wasn’t humiliating at all . . .
Evie takes the cones when they slide over the counter toward us in a cardboard tray. A second later, she’s stalking her way toward the large grassy area by the town’s centerpiece, a three-tiered fountain currently lit up by lights the colors of the rainbowover the cresting water. Couples and families are set up, dotted over the lawn.
