Page 94 of Any Second Now
“What happened between you two?”
The bartender looks my way and I order two beers, forgetting for a second that Raleigh prefers wine.
What happened? Nothing. The usual. She’s hot, I hooked up with her, but I didn’t want anything more. I didn’t even feel bad about it at the time.
Do I now?
No, I don’t. I try to feel something. Regret, shame, pity, any kind of negative feeling for how I treated Marcy.
But I can’t do it.
“We hung out a few times,” I say lamely. “She might’ve wanted more, I didn’t.”
“Guess my dating lessons came too late for you and Marcy.” Raleigh accepts a bottle of beer and elbows me in the arm.
I chuckle.
“I told you, I don’t want to date anyone. I just want to hang out with you.”
That sounds far too serious for who I am as a human being, but also far too casual for what I really feel for Raleigh. Which is what, exactly? I don’t know.
But she’s not a fling.
She’s not someone I’ve just hung out with a few times.
CHAPTER 19
Should I Cross-Stitch It?
RALEIGH
Friday, July 25
Sweet baby Jesus.
The cross-stitch orders have gone out of control. It’s been almost two weeks since I posted the video teaching Atticus to cross-stitch and we’re at almostfive hundred thousandviews and a lot more orders. That’s huge for me.
I’ve had to close the shop temporarily.
I drop the zombie cross-stitch I’m working on—Zombies prefer brains, so you’re good—onto the table and click open my email. That one is by far my biggest seller, clearly because of the video. I really wish I’d picked a shorter quote as my fingers are about to fall off.
There’s another message from my online post looking for Megghen’s owner.Is she a silkie?At that my heart lurches. But then:if she’s a brown one, that’s my chicken!I respond quickly and then delete. The inquiries from my online post have significantly slowed down. Today’s message was the first in days. I mean, I want to find her owner, I do, but I also like having her around. I recently figured out that chickens like to snuggle. Seriously.I saw a video online and tried it out. I picked her up and brought her slowly against my chest. I was a little afraid she’d peck a hole in my neck but instead she laid her little chicken head against my shoulder.
I don’t think I’m ever going to eat poultry again.
She’s like my therapy. My ex might go to a human counselor, but I go to Dr. Megghen. She’s also my encouragement when I low-level panic about my overwhelming cross-stitch orders. I messaged all my customers and told them it would be a a few weeks—or longer—until I could ship the orders and they could cancel if they wanted.
Only a handful took me up on it.
I had the idea to create a cross-stitch kit with the zombie quote I was working on with Atticus. I added a note on my online storefront about shipping delays and the quicker availability of kits. I can get those put together and shipped in no time at all.
Except I’m spending a lot of time with Atticus, so I don’t have as much free time as I should, considering I’m on sabbatical and have no other responsibilities.
Atticus.
We’ve spent every night together for the past two weeks. Sometimes at his place, which, admittedly, has a much more comfortable bed than the Pink Palace, and about twice as big. But we stay at the campsite sometimes anyway. I think Atticus likes waking up and watching the sun rise over the lake. He even convinced me to go out on the kayaks again. It was on a day that a repairman came to reseal the windows. This time we stayed closer to shore and my panic levels were much lower. I didn’t even capsize—myself or Atticus. It wasalmostenjoyable. Probably because Atticus did it shirtless this time, and he doesn’t wear a life vest like I do.
Fine. It was fun.
