“Gina—trust me and leave off the color if you’re already crying today. Curls, yes; color, no. Or wait a week until you aren’t hormonal.”
“Can you go to Tate’s for me?”
Nettie’s stomach dipped. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t even know where he lives…”
“I can text you.”
“Ginaaa…”
“Please, Nettie!” her friend practically sobbed into the phone. “I didn’t realize it was so late and Kim was blabbering on about her vacation—sorry, Kim—and apparently his little kitten, Duracell, is on a feeding schedule…”
“Mulligan,” Nettie corrected, her lips twitching despite herself.
“Is that what his name is?” Gina gasped. “OMIGOSH - y’allarereally talking? He told you about his kitten?”
“Leave it alone…”
“You’ve gotta tell me…”
“Which is why Tate didn’t talk to me the other day—privacy.”
“Because y’all like each other?”
“Because we’re adults having a private, very short, conversation about nothing.”
“But he told you about Morton?”
“Mulligan.”
“He’s weird to name a kitten that…”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“His reasons for being weird are plentiful.”
“Gina…”
“Please, Nettie! Please—we’ve got tickets to the game next Friday night and…”
“You didn’t even ask about my work schedule. I might have plans, you know.”
“Puh-lease… you get off at six. You work Monday through Friday. You are what people call Clockwork. You leave work, home by six-fifteen. Dinner by seven. In bed by nine. Don’t get me started— can you do it or should I take out my curlers now?”
Nettie blew out a heavy breath that fogged the windshield. Gina wasn’t wrong. Her life was predictable to the minute—and Tate’s kitten wasn’t exactly on her daily checklist.
“Text me a photo of your hair when you’re done,” Nettie said glumly.
Gina squealed in happiness.
“You are the best ever, Nettie! Seriously, I will buy the snacks at the game, pay for parking, you name it—but text me when you are done at Tate’s so I can message the worrywart— oh, and snoop around for me.”
“What? NO!”
“Why not? Besides, I bet he’s got a nice place and…”
“You haven’t been there?”
“A couple of times, but he's so picky that it’s hard to snoop. Mom and Dad have been, but usually Tate comes over instead. I liked his place in Denver, but he’s a neat freak and got mad about using a coaster.”
