For a second, there’s a flicker of her sparkle as she peeks into the box. Extra slices of provolone cheese sit on top of square pizza loaded with the sweet sauce that makes it signature “beach pizza.” But then, as if she’s conscious she’s allowed herself a moment of happiness, she blinks, and it flames out as quickly as it appeared.
“Right. Yes. I haven’t returned your phone calls because I’m angry. So angry,” she says, stuffing a piece of pizza into her mouth and shifting the weight on her feet. I cock my head to the side at her awkward demeanor. I’m putting out too much nervous energy, and it’s rubbing off on her. “Luckily for you, it’s physically impossible for me to be both mad and holding this pizza, so I guess I can look into my heart and forgive you. Want one?” She offers me the box, sauce already covering her face.
“No. I need to save room for the meat pie. It smells great.” I wipe a smidge of sauce off her cheek before I can even think about how weird that is. Aulie’s face reddens, and her mouth parts. I swallow. My hand itches. It’s had a taste of her touch and wants so much more. “But I’m glad we’re okay. I missed you.” I swipe at a fallen tendril along her cheek and tuck it behind her ear, smiling warmly at her as heat radiates from my thumb and tingles shoot down my arm.
Aulie opens her mouth and stammers.
God dammit, Jack. Stop being so fucking weird.
“Quack. Quack. Quack. You’re my best friend.”The muffled sound of Aulie’s childhood stuffed duck pulls us both out of whatever the hell that was.
Her eyes widen as her mouth deepens into a frown. “Excuse me. I need to save Quackers from that darn dog.” She stuffs her slice back into the box and slides it into my grasp. “Thank you again.” She flashes me a hesitant smile before trudging down the hall and disappearing into her bedroom. “No. Bad dog. Off. Out.”
The quacking continues.
“I’m serious.”
I love you.
I bite the inside of my cheek, stifling my laugh. Aulie’s dog loves humping that doll, and whenever he pokes the stomach, it cycles between quacking and other various phrases. Since I became emotionally stunted at seventeen, I’m still not mature enough to handle the situation.
“Hey, Willoughby. Do you want a treat?” The quacks fall silent and sharp claws clatter on the hardwood floor toward the kitchen.
Willoughby haughtily marches into the room. “Yeah. That’ll teach him.”
“Hush. We’re good enough friends know that you know this dog walks all over me—all creatures do.” She stares pointedly at me, and I put a hand on my chest.
“Creature? Me?” I feign offense. “Since when do I walk all over you?”
“Oh please, we both know the only reason you asked me over this summer is because I’d give you anything you wanted when your mother and sisters would give you a hard time.”
My cheeks heat. I didn’t beg Aulie for help because she was a pushover, I asked her there because she was the only thing I needed. “That’s not entirely accurate,” I croak.
“The truth is somewhere around there though.” She shrugs, opening a cabinet door and missing my blush. Pulling out a canister of homemade biscuits she dips her long, elegant fingers into the container and gives him one.
Willoughby scoffs it up and tilts his head to the side, waiting for another.
No way he doesn’t get at least three more from her.
“You’ll ruin your dinner,” she says.
The fawn pug with a plump, happy figure, sits patiently. His stubby pink tongue pants in expectation.
“One. You get one more.”
At a distance, I take her in. Heavy lines and circles darken her eyes, and her mouth tilts in an unfamiliar downward turn.
She’s wearing the last few years like a heavy, tattered cloak, and someone needs to wrap her up in something more befitting the queen she is.
I don’t know if I can do anything for her, but I have to do something.
She reaches in and grabs another biscuit, which is again swallowed greedily by the recipient. Hesitating, her hand remains in the canister.
Walking over, I gently take it from her, careful not to let our fingers graze again. “All done,” I say firmly to Willoughby. He growls but waddles bitterly back to his bed near the crackling fire.
“I think I found my mission while I’m here,” I say, stretching over her to put the biscuits away.
Aulie’s back hits the counter, a gust of air escaping her. “What would that be?”
