Page 13 of One Small Spark
Shutting myself into my bedroom, I breathe easier. I change into soft flannel pajama pants, take off my bra with a deepsigh, and put on a T-shirt that saysIn your dreams. Then, I flop onto my bed and check my phone.
Hope: How did book club go?
Hope: I need to know
Hope: I keep imagining those sweet, elderly women saying the most unhinged things
Hope: Please help a girl out
I put her out of her misery and pressCall. She picks up right away.
“Are we disappointed or relieved book club didn’t go into overtime?” she asks.
“A bit of both.” I wouldn’t have minded talking about the book longer, but my seatmate left a lot to be desired.
“So? Was it everything you hoped?”
“It was…illuminating.” To quote Rosetta. “Considering it took them forever to admit they were reading romance novels, they sure have no shame discussing shirtless men.”
“It’s their happy place,” Hope says with a laugh. “And now it can be yours, too. You can discuss imaginary men to your heart’s content.”
Just one flaw in her plan. “It would be my happy place except Callahan was there.”
Just saying it out loud makes my stomach flip. I am never going to get over this.
“Shepherd was visiting or something?” It’s gratifying that even Hope finds his presence absurd.
“Nope. He’s part of the group. And has been for longer than I’ve been buttering up Ada and Isabel.” It’s rude, honestly. I don’t know how he did it, but I justknowhe did it on purpose to get at me.
“So you guys talked about romance? Together?”
“Not only that. The ladies asked us to—” I clamp my mouth shut. Maybe I don’t want to share about Callahan’s manliness demonstrations. Hope has specific delusions about the two of us that I don’t need to encourage.
“They asked you to what? Act out the scenes?” She laughs.Laughs.
Because what could be more hilarious than Callahan and me pretending to be romantic?
After a few seconds of silence on my end, her laughter dies out. “Wait. You really did?”
I sigh all the air out of my lungs before launching into a recap of my afternoon. Forearms, doorway leans, and all. Books played a very small part.
“You have to admit, it’s really sweet they invited him,” she says when I finish. “They must like him a lot.”
“I don’t have to admit anything. You know how I feel about him.”
“Right.” She drags out the word as if she hasn’t listened to at least one rant a week about him for endless months. “But it’s been a long time since all that stuff between you went down. Maybe things have changed.”
I sit up and punch my pillow into a better shape. Then punch it a few more times. “Not for me.”
“Hear me out. I didn’t think I liked Griffin?—”
In the background, her fiancé shouts. “I’m standing right here!”
She laughs again. “But when we reconnected, we both realized we had each other all wrong.”
“And you realized you were madly in love with me.” His voice sounds closer than before.
“That, too.”
