Page 114 of Lovebug
“I… can attest to that, yes.”
“Now, can I askyousomething?”
“Of course.”
“Why were you with that guy in the first place?”
“You’re not the first person to ask me that. You’re not even the first person to ask me thattoday.” I consider the best way to explain it. “Tonight,” I say slowly, “while I was waiting for you to call—”
“You were waiting for me to call?” he asks with a saucy smile.
“Shoot, no. I wasn’twaiting. Hoping maybe?” We lock eyes for a breath, and I think better of what I just said. “Um. Can we forget I just said that?”
“I can try…” he says. “No promises, though.”
“Let’s see if I can explain it this way. Tonight while I was absolutelynotwaiting for you to call, I broke open a bottle of Malbec. Not quite sure why, since I’m mostly a Pinot Noir girl, but for whatever reason, I opened it. I thought it tasted a bit funny. Didn’t love it, but I kept sipping it. I figured I wassupposedto like it, ya know? Like there must be some tannins or ‘notes’ I just wasn’t appreciating. I’ve heard wine has tannins and notes. And legs! Did you know that wine has legs? Anyway, I drank a whole glass of it and was about to pour another when I finally admitted to myself that it was corked.I think… sometimes I look so hard for the good in things— in people—that I don’t realize I’m drinking vinegar until I start to feel sick.” I peek over at him to see if he’s still listening. “Does that make sense?”
“It does. Well…” He gently clears his throat and lifts his glass, his eyes twinkling over the rim. “How’s the wine tasting tonight?“
“Delicious.”
“Good. I couldn’t agree more.”
We clink our glasses.
We kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Am I interrupting the sex?” Calliope’s voice comes through loud and clear on the video call I just picked up.
“Calliope, if you think you’re interrupting ‘the sex,’ why do you keep calling?”
“You know…” She pauses. “I actually don’t have an answer for that. Ha! Well? Am I?”
“No,” I emphasize. “You’re not interrupting ‘the sex.’ Like I told you an hour ago, we needed to talk. So… we talked.”
“And?”
“And it was really good. I feel better.”
“You sure? Because you look a little constipated.”
“Calliope!” I scold quietly. “I’m not constipated. I’m just…I don’t know.” I sigh and peek toward Wally’s house. “Listen, I don’t have long. The only reason I picked up in the first place is because Wally went inside to get our food. He’ll be back any minute.“
“Then hop to it, biznatch. Tell me everything.”
I do a rapid-fire retelling of the events and conversations from tonight.
When I finish, she says, “Oh man, this shit is crazy.”
“What’s crazy?”
“He’s an even better person than you are! I actually didn’t think that was possible.”
I can’t decide if I’m offended by this or not, so I just say, “What do you mean?”
“He builds and lives in a sustainable tiny home, grows and catches his own food, and ‘partners’ with trees? Geez, what does he do for drinking water? Leave out a bucket and collect rain?” she says sarcastically.
