“It’s fine.”
“Toast is fine.”
I plop down on Gabby’s bed. “You know that expression?” He doesn’t know that expression is my personal motto. My heart stumbles, and I command it to quit.
“Yeah,” he says. “Anyway, I still need to give Gabby her gift. I’m feeling much better, so I thought maybe tomorrow, I could swing by.”
“I’m not at my best right now.”
“So ... let me decide.”
I don’t respond.
“How’s three-ish?”
“Okay.”
“And Andi? What about New Year’s Eve?”
“I don’t have a sitter for New Year’s, and I’m pretty sure we’ve taken Gabby on her quota of dates.”
Of course, Leona appears out of thin air. “I’ll do it!”
“I heard that,” Reid says.
Christ. My stomach rumbles ... and I end the call quickly and run to the free bathroom.
The next afternoon, I knock on Andi’s door with a bigger gift than she’ll like sitting by my feet and a quart of store-bought soup in my hand. For a moment—one or ten seconds—I know I’m in over my head. Single mom, adorable daughter, and everyone’s sick, including me. This is not my life.
“Hi.” Andi opens the door in leggings and an oversized T-shirt.
Thisismy life.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” I lean in to kiss her cheek, and she pulls back.
“Sick. Germs.” She waves her hand in front of her body à la Vanna White.
“Same germs.” I wave my free hand in front of me in the same way.
She laughs, and the awkwardness is forgotten.
“Come in,” she says, and I hand her the soup.
“For you, chicken and rice from the deli. Just made today, they told me.”
“Thanks.” She takes the soup, and I hoist in the gift. “I don’t even want to ask,” she says while I trail behind her.
Soup on the counter, she twists her hair up in a messy bun and opens the fridge. “Ginger ale? Coke? Bourbon?”
“None of the above.”
“Oh shit, let me take your coat.” She notices I’m standing in her kitchen, still in my puffy coat and boots.
“Andi, it’s cool. I know where to put it. I’m just having a quick look at you. Missed you.” I wink. A bit much, I know, but who cares? Not me.
“Reid!” Gabby runs into the living area as I’m hanging my coat on the rack.
“Hey, Gabbs. How you feeling?”
