Page 8 of For The Weekend
I snort a laugh. “All the Stones are grumpy.”
Clara and Sloane don’t disagree. You can be guaranteed two things with that family: a constant willingness to help their neighbors and a completely surly attitude about it. I love them. “What’s this Roman guy look like?”
Sloane shrugs. “A lot like Ian.”
“But eighteen feet tall,” Clara mumbles around a pin in her mouth. “You can’t miss him.”
“Tall, you say?” I raise my brows in curiosity. While I don’t discriminate dates according to size, I am not a little girl, and sometimes I want tofeellike one. Which is not an easy task when I’m 5’10” and plus-size.
Sloane holds her arms out at her sides, flexing. “He’s huge.”
“You have my attention, ma’am.”
“Long hair, beard, lots of tattoos. Looks like he can do murder with his hands. Now, spin,” Clara directs, circling her finger in the air.
I turn around slowly. “Well, when you’re a literal mountain, I think that probably comes with the territory. Maybe I could take him to the wedding.”
At the familiar spark in Clara’s eyes, I hold my palm up to her. “It’s a joke.”
Kinda.
I do need a date. But I’m not so desperate that I’d go approach a stranger, begging them to go with me like a total weirdo.
At least, not yet.
“All right, my friend.” Clara shuts her bag and steps away from me. “Let me get the dress home, and I’ll have it back to you by next week.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
She tips an imaginary hat, and I shuffle off to the bathroom to change out of the dress and into shorts and a T-shirt. By the time I finish, my two friends are in the living room with Sloane’s kids, and Clara says a quick goodbye to everyone before taking off with the garment bag, tossing one last offer over her shoulder, “Let me know if you need help finding a date. I’ll find one for you.”
“Yeah, thanks. See you later!”
Then it’s Sloane’s turn. She checks the time. “Okay, munchkins, start cleaning up. We’ve got to go.”
Her kids are spread out on the floor. Micah has a big book open in front of him, while Livie’s drawing pictures in a notebook with fat crayons.
“Come on,” Sloane prods, poking at both of them with her foot. “We have to get moving, or we’re going to be late.”
“Where’re we going?” Livie asks, rolling to her back, sticking a blue crayon up in the air.
“I told you, you and your brother have swim class tonight.”
Micah ignores that and instead stands, showing Sloane and me his book, open to a page with flamingos. It never ceases to amaze me that this kid can read fluently, way above second-grade level. “Crocodiles, alligators, and flamingos live in the Florida Everglades. Did you know that?”
Sloane takes his book to put in the backpack she dropped off with them earlier. “That’s pretty interesting.”
“And a group of flamingos is called a flamboyance.”
I laugh. “Accurate.”
Micah shadows his mom, continuing to list off his factsas she helps Livie clean up her art supplies. “And flamingos can fly, but they usually only do it at night. They migrate to new places with water. Is water an ecosystem?”
“I have no idea, buddy.” Sloane eventually hauls Livie to her feet. The girl’s a slug.
Micah turns to me as if I’ll know. “Is water an ecosystem?”
“I guess. Isn’t an ecosystem where animals live?”
