He stared at me, his mug stopping halfway to his mouth. He blinked and then he chuckled. “Okay, so I thought you were going to ask me what my favorite color is.”
“Oh.” I grimaced. “Well, yes. Favorite color too, I guess. It occurred to me earlier that if we are friends, then I should know important things because I don’t think I can be friends with someone who doesn’t value the same things I do. But I also think someone who is kind and thoughtful wouldn’t be a bad person. And I think you’re kind and you care for Merry and Bright, even though you’re busy.”
His smile widened and he sighed. “I think being a good person is very important. I think we should be the kindness we want to see in the world, and I would always value people the most. I also don’t think I could be friends with someone who doesn’t share my values, so we have that in common too.”
I was so relieved. I’d assumed as much, but it was still good to hear him say it.
“And orange,” he added. “My favorite color is orange.”
I found myself grinning, so very happy. My tummy was jittery again but in a good way. “I like green,” I said. “Phthalo green, specifically. Though all greens are good.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “That is anexcellentchoice.”
“Phthalo is short for phthalocyanine, which are a familyof blue and green synthetic organic pigments based on variants of copper phthalocyanine, a deep blue compound produced by the reaction of phthalic anhydride, urea, copper, and ammonia.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Not many people did. Probably.
“Do you like animals?”
He brightened. “I love animals.” Then he stopped and made a face. “Okay, so I’m not a fan of frogs. I’ll just have you know that if I encounter an unexpected frog, they may hear my screams on the International Space Station. So, animals in general, yes. Frogs are a no.”
I chuckled. “Frogs are cute.”
He shuddered. “Frogs are slimy and unpredictable. Their legs are absurd and they stick to things with their little suction cupped feet.”
He made me laugh.
“Do you have any pets? As a vet, I’d imagine you’d have a menagerie.”
“We have a dog. Her name is Mildred. She was surrendered to the clinic for euthanasia but Dad said we’d take her.”
Winter put his hand to his heart. “Oh my heart.”
“We don’t have a menagerie,” I added. “We had a cat but he died two years ago. We’ll wait until we get another surrendered animal, probably.”
“Or like me, when you orphan two kittens,” he said, grimacing. “But you treat animals of all kinds? You mentioned ferrets the other day.”
“Yes. All kinds. Mostly cats and dogs, and livestock, of course. Some alpacas. But there are rabbits, gerbils, ferrets, birds.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Okay, so I like birds as long as they don’t come near me. I’m not good with the flappywings.”
I was still smiling at him, still surprised by how comfortable I was with him. “It sounds to me like you just don’t like unpredictability. Frogs, birds tend to move erratically.”
He stared at me, then began to nod slowly. “I think you’re right. I’ve never really thought of it like that.”
My tummy swooped again, and that nice jittery feeling flittered through me. I couldn’t look at him though. It was too honest, too exposing, and it made the pleasant feeling turn sour.
“Well, we should get started,” he said brightly. He nodded to my cup. “Are you done? Or not yet?”
I looked at the hot chocolate, seeing I still had some left, but I didn’t want to risk drinking it. My tummy was too sensitive. “I’ve had enough,” I said, handing him the cup.
I hated that I was nervous again. It was a yo-yo of feelings, relaxed to nervous every other minute. And I knew why. I needed to ask him that question. The question I couldn’t stop thinking about, even though the answer scared me more than not knowing.
Once I’d started thinking about it, I couldn’t stop. It was all I could think about, and I knew it would come out eventually.
It always did.
