Page 27 of Just a Friend for the Lion
My Lion scratches at me, the animal threatening to gut me.
And I know this isn’t over.
No way.
No how.
I might be dumb enough to let her walk away this time.
But a Lion only misses his mark once.
Next time?
I’m going all in.
But first?
I’m gonna need a little help.
A very specific kind of help.
In the form of one meddlesome, mystically nosy, magically unbothered menace with white hair and way too much time on hishands.
I grab the food and my phone, ignoring the way my hand tightens around it like it’s the only lifeline I’ve got.
Before I load the pizza, chicken, and salad boxes into the back of my SUV, I tap the contact already at the top of my favorites.
Uncle. Freaking. Uzzi.
The phone rings once.
Twice.
“Dear boy,” comes the too-cheerful voice on the other end. “How goes the search? Have you discovered your one true mate? Are you currently in a naked cuddle pile with your forever?”
“I fucked up, Uncle Uzzi.”
Pause. Then a sigh.
“Ah. Yes. That tracks.”
“I need help.”
“Oh my. That definitely tracks. What did you do? No—wait, let me guess. You got the ping and ran like a coward. Then you pretended not to know her. Then she called you out in public, and your big, bad Lion is now hiding in his luxury vehicle trying not to cry into a calzone?”
“Uh, there weren’t any calzones.”
He hums like a smug cat with a saucer of cream.
“Yet.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. It’s adorable.”
“Uncle Uzzi?—”
“All right, all right. Don’t have a kitty attack. I’ll be back in Newark tomorrow morning. Early. We’ll meet then. Bring coffee and contrition.”
