Page 5 of Wild Hit
She coughs a little and I look up at her face, and I’m met by the greenest eyes in the planet.
I mean, of course I haven’t personally inspected the eyeballs of every person currently alive, yet the statement holds true when the perfect lawn behind her pales in comparison.
“Please don’t sue me, I can’t afford it,” she blurts out.
My jaw drops for a second. “Shouldn’t you at least ask if I’m okay first?”
“Are you?”
“Well, now. That sounds forced.” I sit up and brush dirt off my hands. “Areyouokay?”
After a moment, she responds, “I think I broke a nail.”
“That’s rough, buddy,” I say, quoting a line from Marty’s favorite cartoon.
“Did you just quote Zuko?” she asks with the same air of having heard someone recite every decimal in the number pi.
“Dad, there’s no food.”
The tiny and grumpy voice of my tiny and grumpy daughter captures my attention. I jump to my feet, give one last look at the awkward blonde, and give her an even more awkward wave that intends to portray both that I’m fine and that it was good to meet her, even though it really wasn’t. She ducks and turns back to her scattered mail.
I touch my face and confirm that my left eye is in its rightful place, and even though the fridge is empty, I sure hope it has some ice.
“I know, honey. We’ll have to go shopping later. First we have to unpack.”
“Fine.”
That’s the fifth word she’s directed at me all day, which is a huge improvement and tells me that she at least must’ve liked the house. As I wheel her suitcases up to the porch, I sneak another look at my neighbor who is now rushing to her own door, using her loose hair as a curtain to hide her face. My cheek twitches.
As far as signs go, this weird welcome to my new home shouldn’t bode well. Yet the good feeling hasn’t left me.
CHAPTER 3
AUDREY
“There’s a woman who has been thoroughly kissed by her man,” Hope announces as Rose joins us at the cafeteria for a little coffee break.
I say nothing, choosing to cradle my little ice coffee like it’s my one lifeline, but discreetly noticing that Rosalina’s cheeks are bright enough to pass as neon signs.
“How do you know?” she asks with an airy laugh.
Hope jerks a thumb at me. “It’s the same face Audrey says I had when I walked in.”
“Do you guys not do any work?” I ask in a droll, shaking my head. “Is sneaking around with your menfolk all you do these days?”
“Yes.”
“Kinda.”
“Feminism is dead,” I announce.
Rose snorts, stabbing her cup with a compostable straw. “It’s not dead, but no one said it had to be miserable and lonely, especially not when you’ve found true love.”
I’m glad that at least I’m not the only one who cringes. Hope’s shoulders also rise to shield herself from the sap.However, she doesn’t counter the point, what with also being besotted and all.
It’s not that I’m jealous—even if I’m not building a compelling case right now. I’m actually so happy that two of my best friends in the whole world were fortunate enough to find two of the few good men among a population sample of four billion plus. Perhaps it should give me hope, or at least dial down my cynicism to a healthier degree. But seeing Hope and Cade holding hands and looking at each other like the secrets of the universe are contained in each other’s eyes, or Rose and Logan stroking each other’s cheeks tenderly like that little touch is all they need to keep their souls alive, hasn’t fixed me.
And that’s the sad part, I really thought it would. These four are the first examples I’ve seen in real life of what love and partnership is really supposed to be like. I guess I’m too far gone.
