Page 65 of If All Else Sails
She stifles a snort, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. Toni spends her summers proctoring SATs and ACTs. She’s not supposed to be on her phone, but this never stops her from using it anyway. We have our best summer talks in the mornings while she’s at work. Normally, I’d be calling her from my couch at home, not while walking along a poorly paved road in a small town a few hours away.
I groan. “Agreeing to this was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”
“Actually,” Toni says, “I think it’s one of your best ideas. That man is husband material on a stick.”
“Wyatt? No. Absolutely not.”
Toni is under the mistaken impression that my first meeting with Wyatt was the meet-cute we’ll one day laugh about while telling our children how we fell in love.
Did I mention my best friend is romantic to the point of delusion?
There was nothing meet-cute-worthy about the first time Wyatt and I met. I’d call it more of a meet-ugly.
“I can’t wait to tell youI told you sowhen you fall totally and irreversibly—”
“Don’t say it,” I beg.
“—in love with him,” she finishes, then cackles. As much as one can cackle when they’re trying to proctor a standardized test. It sounds more like she’s choking. Which is what she deserves for suggesting such a thing.
I step out of the way as a large delivery truck rumbles down the street. “Have fun turning that truck around,” I mutter as the tires kick up gravel.
“What?” Toni says.
“Nothing. Let’s go back to the ashes. Is this a thing— people keeping their loved ones’ ashes in old food containers in the fridge? Do ashes expire?”
“We keep my granny on the mantel in a vase so she’s always there. Give the man a break. Grief doesn’t exist in a straight line. So, things must be going well, huh? Honestly, I’m shocked you haven’t beaten Wyatt to death with his crutches.”
“You just mentioned me falling in love with him. Now you’re saying you’re surprised I haven’t murdered him?”
“The line between love and hate is paper thin, baby.”
“Please. I fundamentally disagree with that statement.” I pause. “Plus, the last kind of person I want to date, much less marry, is an athlete. And it’s Wyatt’slife.”
“You and your aversion to athletes,” Toni says. “Such a shame considering your brother’s connections.”
I swallow, coming this close to telling Toni about where my aversion to athletes came from. But I hate eventhinkingabout the guy who poisoned me on athletes. And, honestly, guys in general. But especially athletes.
Their size, their ego, their inability to understand the wordno.
I’m notcompletelyunreasonable; I wouldn’t write off a guy just because his career happens to be in sports. Probably. But he’d have to have a whole lot of other things going for him to make me get over that very high hurdle.
And Wyatt...well. I would have said that he didn’t have anything else going for him.
But that was before the last few days.
“For real, though,” Toni says, her voice quieter and more serious. “I think this trip will be good for you. Get you out of your little comfort zone.”
“I like my comfort zone,” I grumble. “It’s...comfortable. Don’t knock it.”
“Speaking of comfort zones—how’s the house hunt coming? Have you found anything you like now that you’ll be rolling in your brother’s money?”
“Nothing yet,” I say, hoping she doesn’t press me on it. I don’t want to admit I haven’t looked. Toni will latch onto that and grill me about why. I’m not even sure I’d have an answer for her. I don’t fully understand it myself.
I’m saved from having to think about it when I come around the bend, catch sight of Wyatt’s house, and scream, dropping the phone.
Admittedly, this is an overreaction.
Or maybe not. Because the big truck that passed me on the road is now in Wyatt’s driveway. And two men are carrying a new mattress through the front door, directed by a man on crutches—a man I’m realizing I barely even know.
