Page 89 of The Romantic Agenda
He grimaces, partially turning away. “Conflicted. Not weird.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Conflicted about what?”
Malcolm shuts back down after that. He scowls through breakfast, grumbles his way through washing the dishes, and barely speaks. Not even Summer, trying to get his attention, can get him to break his vow of silence.
Twenty-Four
Believe it or not, they all pile into Malcolm’s Jeep right on schedule, automatically slotting themselves in their assigned seats.
Fox and Joy in the back. Malcolm and Summer in the front.
They’re on the road, listening to Summer’s playlist again, when Fox slides his hand across the seat to find Joy’s. His palms are still callused but noticeably less rough. The heat from his skin grounds her, solidly bringing the present back into focus.
They haven’t spoken since she tried and failed to comfort Malcolm after their walk. Realization zings through her like a current of electricity—he might be upset about her deciding to spend time with Malcolm instead of him. He doesn’t look it, though.
Keeping her voice nearly silent, she mostly mouths, “Did she talk to you?” and nods toward Summer.
Fox shakes his head. He mouths back, “She seems fine? Why is he mad?”
“He won’t tell me.”
Fox nods, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “Are you okay?”
When Malcolm and Caroline got engaged, she couldn’t get out of bed for three days.
Now that he’s dating Summer she feels... accepting. She accepts what happened. At the start of this trip, all she wanted was to tell Malcolm how she felt. And she did that. Several times over, in many different ways. Same as Jules inMy Best Friend’s Wedding, Joy didn’t get the ending she wanted. But she still feels like a good person on the inside. A good person who loves her best friend and only wants to see him happy. She still feels like herself.
There’s a dash of optimism and a sprinkle of hope in there too.
“I think so? Nothing hurts right now.” Joy sighs. “I just want to have a good day today.”
He grins. “I’m sure I can help with that.”
Joy feels herself smiling—every part of her down to the tips of her toes, tingling with excitement. Her days with Fox were numbered from the beginning and now she’s eagerly anticipating what number four will bring.
Malcolm finds a parking spot a few blocks away from the strip. Summer slips on her sunglasses. “Ilovebeing a tourist.”
The shops are a mix of standard, cute, kitschy, and downright strange—everything housed in brick buildings. Almost all of them are two stories tall with balconies and shingles out front, their company names emblazoned in an array of fonts. It reminds Joy of a stereotypical Wild West setting. Especially when they get to the horses tied to posts and hooked to carriages for rides.
There are museums, jewelers, and saloons; places where you can take old-timey photos and get tattoos; coffee shops, bakeries,and an ice-cream parlor; and restaurants boasting their world-famous specialties with strange names like May’s Bottom Butter Brew and Kitchen Sink Spaghetti. Street vendors sell even more food, like cinnamon churros, hot dogs, and roasted corn on the cob dusted with parmesan cheese, and fun items like bubble wands, wildlife stuffed animals, and attraction maps.
Within the first five minutes, Joy pulls Fox into a photo booth, swinging the curtain closed behind them. She demands for him to, “Smile, damn it!” after each flash, only to end up cackling at how he manages to be even stonier than usual just to spite her. For the last shot, she drapes herself over him, pressing a smiling kiss onto his cheek.
“For you.” Joy hands Fox the completed photo strip. He takes it, carefully folds it in half along one of the white spaces, and tucks it into his wallet.
They split an oversize salty soft pretzel drenched in mustard and two different kinds of ice-cream sandwiches, and ditch Summer and Malcolm for an hour to go on a private carriage ride around the train depot. When it’s over, Fox texts Summer—they join them in watching a performance of an Old West shoot-out.
Later, Fox buys Joy a deer stuffed animal in secret, presenting it right as she’s in the middle of chugging a root beer float for a restaurant’s sidewalk competition. She thanks him through the brain freeze and then blames him for making her get second place.
Summer says, “Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It’ll make it pass faster.”
Joy tries. “It’s not working. Holy god.Ow.” She sucks in a breath, rubbing her forehead.
“Where should we go now? We have a lunch reservation soon, right, Malcolm?”
Malcolm nods, still not speaking.
Summer continues, “I’ve eaten way too much street food, so I want to walk some more to make room.” She taps her stomach.
