Page 133 of Unspoken Words
He didn’t answer.
I frowned.
“Today’s the day,” Connor explained.
“The day for what?”
“For Max to say goodbye to his Iron Man arm.”
“Ohhhhhh.”
“So that’s where we’re headed first. Is that okay?”
I didn’t answer right away, because my first thought was of Lilah and whether she’d be there too.
“She’s working,” Connor added, his ability to somehow read my mind astounding, and overly annoying.
“Of course it’s fine.” I smiled and then turned my attention to the window.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are your eyes puffy?”
“Allergies.”
“You don’t have any.”
“Yes, I do.”
“What are they?”
Rotating my head like a carnival clown machine, I rolled my ‘puffy’ eyes at him. “You, for starters. I’m allergic to you.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’ve been crying, why?”
“Because …” I strained my brain for a plausible excuse. “Because Byron went home,” I blurted.
“Right. I forgot. Sorry.” Connor refocussed on the road as we drove through the streets.
“It’s fine.”
“So when will you see him again?”
“I don’t know. When the album is finished, I guess.”
“We still have a lot to do, you know? It could take months.”
“I know that.”
“And that won’t be a problem?”
“No. I’ll go home for a few days at some point.”
