Page 78 of The Pocket Pair

Can I? Do I really even want to go?

I’ve thought about these questions a lot lately. I’ve flipped coins and made a dandelion wish for clarity when I found an early blooming weed. Once, I even called one of those hotline psychics, who told me nothing about whether or not I should move to Costa Rica but did say it was my lucky week to play the lotto.

Just in case, I did play. Not even a single number matched.

The point being: I’m as unsure now, watching Mari go, as I’ve ever been.

I want to go and meet the family I’ve never met. I want to learn from a real, working artist. I want to get out of Texas—don’t take it personally, greatest state in the country—for the first time in my life. I need to go. For me.

I know this, even as Chevy’s hand holding mine feels like an anchor that could tempt me to stay.

And I’ll come back! It’s not like Chevy couldn’t wait. People do long distance all the time. IF—and in my mind, it’s still very much an if—something happens here.

Then, I remember the years of watching or hearing about Chevy’s revolving door of women who couldn’t be more opposite than me. Can Chevy do long distance? Can he even do commitment?

“That’s some grip you’ve got there,” Chevy says.

I NEED to get a grip. I’m totally spiraling into a panic tornado. But he means my hand, which is practically crushing his bones.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, his blue eyes sharp and intent on mine. “I’ve got you.”

You have no idea how you’ve got me.

I suck in a breath as Mari blows us a kiss, then turns away. Chevy unlinks our fingers. I don’t have time for disappointment because he puts his arm around me, pulling me in close to his side.

“You okay, Tiny?”

I lean against his chest, needing his steadiness as Mari’s white hair moves further and further away.

“I will be,” I say, hoping it’s true.

CHAPTER 23

Val

When Winnie pulls open the door to her loft, her gaze first goes to Chevy’s arm, curled protectively around my shoulder. She smiles. Then she sees my face. The smile disappears.

“You look … wow.”

I mean, it’s to be expected when I spent literally all but ten minutes of the drive back home sobbing. The only plus side is that Chevy held my hand the whole way and hasn’t stopped touching me since the airport. Later, when I’m not so sad about Mari leaving, I’ll be giddy about the subtle but not-so subtle shift that’s taken place between us today.

For now, I’m still a mess.

Kyoko takes one look with wide eyes and pulls me from Chevy, tossing her arms around me. “Come to my bosom,” she says, clutching at me like we’ve known each other for years. Not like she’s a relatively new friend.

“Your … bosom?”

“She doesn’t mean literally. It’s a figurative bosom.”

“It’s both. Now, shhh,” Kyoko says, squeezing me tighter against what I guess, technically, is her bosom.

Winnie swats at us both. “You’re blocking the doorway. Move.”

Kyoko doesn’t loosen her grip on me, sort of shuffling us to the side so Chevy can walk in behind us.

“Did you do this to her?” Winnie demands.

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