Page 42 of L.O.V.E

“Waste whose time?” Mom came around the corner, folded dishtowels in hand.

“Martin.” Lacey pulled a drawer open, then snatched the towels from my mom and started her ritual of arranging them two across and four high.

Hands to hips, Mom prodded, “Who’s Martin?”

Lacey gasped, clutching her chest. “You didn’t tell Linda about Martin? Oh, Nat Brat. You really don’t like him.”

“I tried.” I moved from the fridge to across the room, a nice buffer but still stifling considering the topic.

“Well, good for you, Nugget.” Mom pulled a dryer sheet off her pant leg. “You’ve put yourself back out there. That’s great. Mike Harkness said his son is moving back to town. He’s—”

“No!” Lacey and I shouted in unison.

Mike Harkness Junior was handsome and likable as long as he kept his lips zipped and shoes on his feet. They guy was smarter than sin, but cited oddball facts nonstop and had an unfortunate and seemingly incurable case of smelly feet.

“Okay. Okay.” Mom, the perpetual matchmaker, surrendered with a laugh. “So who’s Martin?”

Lacey’s brows pinched. “Ellis’s best friend.”

“Is that going to be awkward when you all get together?” Dropping her arms to her sides, she hit me with a worried glare.

“No.” I shook by head too hard and too fast. “Our split was amicable.” Hell, Martin had barely blinked an eye when we met for coffee and I gave him the,it’s not you, it’s mespiel.

Hunched over his phone before he stood from the table, he’d left me sitting with two full coffees and a half-hearted, “See ya around, kid.”

I could handle a run-in with Martin. He meant nothing to me.

But Cole? MisterI can’t like you, and I can’t ignore you, so I’m trying to hate you. Blah, blah, blah.Well, he’d already decimated me with his cruel, yet beautiful, confession. Another encounter with that man, I’d be ground to dust, my honest intentions the mortar, my sinful desires the pestle.

Cole liked me. And that sucked. Because I liked him, too. Too much. Only, I couldn’t like him. How foolish to think I would’ve been okay being part of their group, watching from the wings, while the one person I hated in the world lived her happily ever after with the man I had an agonizing crush on.

So I took myself out of the picture. Easy-peasy. Problem solved.

“You girls staying for dinner?” Mom asked.

“No,” I grunted, throwing all my muscle into popping the lid on my drink. “Just here to pick up the suitcase.”

To which she replied over her shoulder, “Dad set it in the hall for you.”

I turned to my best friend. My happy, giddy, so-in-love sister. “So, where is he taking you?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I love surprises,” Mom said from the refrigerator.

Bottle to my lips I asked, “How do you know what to pack?” I chugged, then winced, the ginger burning my throat.

“He gave me a list.” Lacey’s cheeks blazed, meaning juicy gossip was in my future.

Mom’s head popped up. She whipped around to face us, cauliflower in one hand, a bottle of IPA in the other.

“Come on, before Mom goes Katie Couric on you.” Hooking Lacey’s elbow, I made for the front door. “Bye, Mom. See you Sunday. Love you!”

“Bye, Mama King,” Lacey yelled, her sandals scuffing along the hall. “Thanks for letting me borrow your suitcase!”

“Bye, girls.”

Safely inside the car, I begged. “What’s on the list? What’s on the list?”

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