I’m definitely not bothered by the table. My brain can’t get past her talking about being wet.
Get it together.
“Don’t worry about it. And yes, we can go see Slate.”
She squeals in excitement.
The minute I say it, I’m feeling kind of queasy. I don’t want to leave her alone. And I’m not sure how it would look with me bringing her to her room when she’s spilling water and laughing out of nowhere.
I eye the side door of the restaurant.
I guess she’ll have to stay with me tonight.
“Thank you… good sir,” Ivy says as I open the truck door for her. We’re in my driveway and I loop my arm with hers to keep her steady. No way am I letting a successful hiking day end with a driveway injury. When she hearsSlate barking and scratching at the door, she smiles.
Inside, she struggles with untying her shoes for much too long. Obviously, she’s still feeling the drinks.
“How does a snack sound?” I ask as I kneel in front of her. She puts a hand on my shoulder for balance as I take her shoes off.
“Good. Snacks are good.”
In the kitchen, Ivy sits on the floor. She rests her back against the wall and puts her legs out in a ‘V’. Slate is lying against her for attention and Ivy alternates between petting and resting her head on the dog.
I grab a banana, a piece of butterscotch cake, and a glass of water.
“I don’t need that banana. But I will have all that caaaake.” Her words drag on as she reaches for the fork.
“You’ll need that banana for tomorrow. It’ll help curb the hangover.” It doesn’t take much convincing because she’s already peeling it.
Before I can hand her the glass of water, she’s digging into the dessert.
“Holland. This cake,” she says with her mouthful.
“Like it?
“Like it? I love it!” she exclaims with honest enthusiasm.
“One of my grandma’s secret recipes. It’s been on the lodge menu ever since it opened,” I say with pride. When it comes to my grandma’s recipes, I’m a complete sap.
She goes from banana to cake until both are gone. I get her another glass of water.
“How am I going to live without this cake?!” Her eyes are misty like she’s about to cry. Please no. Drunk tears are rough.
“You don’t have to. I’ll give you the recipe.”
“Isn’t it a secret?” She acts as if I’ve committed a crime.
“I mean, kinda. But I trust you’ll use your intel and power for good.”
She sits back in triumph.
In between sighs, she says, “Today was awesome. I can’t believe I wenthiking!” A smile scrunches her face.
“You did that.” I reach down to give her a high-five. “And today was pretty awesome.” My chest warms at the thought of her enjoying herself.
Ivy leans her head back, eyes on the ceiling, her hands still petting Slate.
“There’s one thing that would make it better…” she teases.
