Page 33 of Eligible Best Friend

No, we don’t. I like classics and she likes superhero action movies. Which I like too, only in the movie theater. My screen at home doesn’t do them justice.

“I can compromise.”

She chuckles. “All right. Why don’t you message me when Cass picks him up? I should be back by then.”

“You’re going out anyway?” It’s my turn to be disappointed, but Lia isn’t the type to stay at home and wait. She might’ve been with Samuel, but not with me. I respect her for it. At the same time, I dislike Samuel even more.

“Might as well. This is probably what I would’ve been doing anyway,” she says lightly. She might feel the same way I do about the date, but she’s getting on with her life on her terms. Unlike Cass, Lia won’t anchor herself to a guy and try to destroy his life to make a point.

She’ll just leave.

The thought lines my gut with anxiety. My life is rooted here. My job is here. I could be a paramedic anywhere, but Fargo EMS gave me a position as soon as I stepped foot in town again and said I needed a job. I can’t ignore that kind of loyalty. Mom is here, and Cass followed me here, and by some miracle, she stayed after our breakup, claiming it was a better place to raise a kid than LA. Whatever happened between us, whatever she’s done to me with regards to our son, she’s here. I won’t leave again.

Lia has no one here but herself. She can go anywhere in the world.

I need to remember that before fate strikes with brutal irony and I’m the one left wanting more.

* * *

Lia

If I look at my phone one more time, I’m going to throw it off the edge of this trail.

I’m hiking back toward my car, my trail shoes crunching in the dirt. I found my cache hidden on the outer edges of one of a local vineyard and logged my information, but despite the brilliant green views of grapevines as far as the eye can see, nothing about this afternoon has been exactly fun.

By the time I get back to the car and land in a sweaty heap behind the wheel, my phone is still silent. I double-check the reception, which was spotty on the trail, but I have all my bars.

I check the time. Four hours have passed since Ford called.

I take my time hiking, then meander over the trail through the vineyards. I spent even more time perusing all the other call signs written in the cache’s logbook and tried to guess the story behind all the trading objects they’d left behind.

My trading object is bandages. Fun ones. My call sign is Emergency Girl. Today, I left behind an emoji bandage and the souvenir I took was a simple mood ring. According to the ring, I’m feeling warm and loving, but I think the summer sun has more to do with the color change. I doubt there’s a ring color for feeling let down.

Ford said a couple of hours, but it’s clearly taking longer. My brain wants to revert to the helplessness of hanging around an empty house for Samuel when he was working late. The damn thing won’t stop conjuring old emotions. Like anger when I realized he might not have been working, that his fling with his ex-wife wasn’t a one-time mistake.

To combat the surge of my past, I refuse to linger by my phone and do nothing tonight. I run through a list of movies I could watch by myself when I get home. What’s something fun I can do for dinner? Pizza and movie night? Ice cream and movie night? No, that resembles too many days post-Samuel-breakup. Pizza and a movie it is.

By the time I arrive home, I decide to make my own after I shower. I take my time in the bathroom, luxuriating in the steam and my vanilla body wash because nothing else pleasurable is happening tonight.

In the kitchen, I set my phone on the counter. It dings as soon as it drops out of my hand. Scrambling to pick it up, I prop my elbows on the countertop and peer at the message.

She still hasn’t come to pick up Jayden. Sorry.

Disappointment curls in my gut. I’d offer to help, but this is Ford’s bonding time with his son. It’s his chance to show Cass that a good father does more than make a lot of money.

No problem. Hope he’s feeling better. And I really do. My day didn’t turn out as planned, but neither did theirs.

Feeling moderately better, I rummage through the cupboards, gathering all the ingredients I need for a greasy, cheesy pizza.

My phone rings. Ford.

My arms are loaded, but to keep from being that pathetic girl who hangs on every call waiting for her man, I take my time arranging them on the counter before answering. “Hello?”

“This wasn’t supposed to be how today went,” Ford says in a low voice.

“Is he sleeping?”

“After three hours of fussing, yes. No wonder Cass was so tired. It’s the only reason I haven’t called her yet.”

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