I appeased my growling stomach by eating a few more of Wyatt’s fries—only because he swore that he wasn’t going to eat them all. I didn’t know if I really believed that, but the fries were delicious—perfectly salted and seasoned—and my stomach was ready to devour itself from the inside out.
“Should we go talk to the godmother now?” Wyatt asked when we left the pub a short while later.
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.
Wyatt pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. He slowed his pace. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m sorry, Emersyn. I promised I’d meet up with my mom this afternoon.”
“No worries,” I assured him. “I’ll talk to Bitty and let you know how it goes.”
“Really?” he asked, stopping on the sidewalk. “You won’t ghost me again?”
I stopped too, so abruptly that a man in a suit had to dodge around me. He scowled, but I barely noticed.
“I didn’t ghost you,” I said to Wyatt. “I was just…busy.”
“Are you sure? It’s not because our kiss made you uncomfortable?”
“What? No! The kiss was great. I mean, not great, but…” I floundered.
“Incredible?” Wyatt suggested. “Mind-blowing?”
Yes, yes, yes!the candid part of me wanted to yell. My stomach flipped at the thought thathemight believe those adjectives described our kiss.
Then I remembered how he’d kept his surname a secret from me. He still was, really. Hoffman had burned me so badly that trusting no longer came so easily to me. Secrets scared me, because I knew they could leave scars.
Since Wyatt had steered the conversation in a dangerous direction, I decided to do the mature thing and change the subject.
“I’ll talk to Bitty and text you if I learn anything.”
He searched my eyes with his own, as if trying to find the words I’d left unspoken. I hoped I kept them well hidden.
“All right,” he said finally.
I turned and walked off down the street. I could feel his eyes on me still, but I never looked back.
After a snack of crackers and peanut butter, I savored my last remaining can of apple Bubly—that one hundred percent did not make me think of Wyatt. I enjoyed every last drop, knowing I wouldn’t be buying more until I had a real paying job. I tossed the empty can into the recycling bin and then cut a chunk of cake and set it on a paper plate. Livy and I had barely made a dent in the dessert, and we needed help to finish the rest. I took the big piece of cake, probably equal to four average slices, and delivered it to Mr. and Mrs. Nagy.
The gesture delighted them, and I was glad I’d thought of it. The elderly couple had been so good to me and Livy. It was nice to have a chance to return even just a little kindness.
After a short chat with the Nagys, I paid a visit to Bitty’s apartment on the ground floor. When Bitty let me into her unit, I found Leona lounging on the couch with a martini in hand. She wore asparkly green dress and several necklaces, and rings adorned nearly all her fingers. As usual, her garishly reddish-orange hair was styled into large curls. She’d overdone the smoky-eye look, and her bright red lipstick had smeared at the corner of her mouth.
I wondered how many martinis she’d already consumed.
“Emersyn, darling,” Leona trilled before taking a long sip of her cocktail. “How delightful.”
“Can I get you a martini, dear?” Bitty offered, heading for the kitchen.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I won’t keep you long. I just came to ask about your godson.”
“Vincent?” Bitty retrieved her martini from the kitchen counter and joined us in the living area. “What do you want to know about him?”
“No offense to young Vincent,” Leona said, “but why would you be interested in him when you’ve already got two hunky hunks of burning love to play with?”
“Sorry?” Had she really saidhunky hunks of burning love?
“Elvis was ‘a hunk, a hunk of burning love,’ not ‘a hunky hunk of burning love,’ ” Bitty corrected.
Leona flicked a hand. “Phht. He was both!”
