She paused, glancing out her apartment window.Snowstorm. He’d driven off into the snowstorm, because it was hours until sunset and yesterday’s freezing rain had definitely turned into a snowstorm, at least in these parts. She hoped the roads were clear enough for Zane to get out of town.
Well, the good and noble and true part of her hoped that. The hopeless romantic would prefer for him to appear on her doorstep, bedraggled, maybe amnesiac, but definitely handsome and prepared to be nursed back to health under her tender care. Although she didn’t think amnesia would do her any good if Zane actually was gay, and also, hispartner,Dion, would probably be with him in any vaguely reality-based version of this story.
Of course, a reality-based version of the story would also have to remember that he’d left maybe forty-five minutes ago, tops, and was unlikely to have become a bedraggled, amnesiac bisexual (to sort out the whole attraction problem) who needed caretaking in under an hour.
But then, even if hedidbecome a bedraggled amnesiac bisexual, stealing him away from Dion with her loving ministrations didn’t seem very fair.
“See,” Vicki said aloud to herself, “this is your problem. Even your fantasies are too respectful.” She finished cutting out what felt like the zillionth paper tulip and put the entire project into a craft box, then took her phone out and texted her brother:so when you have fantasies do you just imagine they’re totally into it no matter whether they would be in real life, or what?
An answer came back way too fast, which meant he was up really, really early for work:First, ew, I do not want to know why you’re asking your very own brother about his fantasies, and second, everybody is in to me, so it’s not an issue.
Vicki laughed.Yeah, yeah, Mr Fabulous, I guess I should have known that was the answer.
So you think Zane Bellamy is hot, huh?
Not being dead, yes, I’m afraid so.
Want me to put in a good word for you? I'm very famous and well-connected, you know.
Vicki snorted and said, “Ugh,” aloud. “That will not be necessary.” Then she texted the same thing, and got back a series of laughing emojis, followed by,gotta go, they’re calling my name.
Have fun storming the castle!Vicki knew there were step-families—and blood relations, for that matter—who didn’t get along nearly as well as she and Chris did, but she’d always been glad their parents had gotten married. She couldn’t really imagine a world where he wasn’t her dorky big brother. Shepulled out another crafting box and had just about gotten started on a new project when her phone chimed again.
Stop working on crafts for the kids and go do something for yourself,Chris said, although with more typos.It’s the weekend. Go use it.
Says the man who’s working at 6am,she texted back.What’m I supposed to do? I have no life! Why are you texting, I thought you were busy!
I am busy. Very busy and very important. But also looking out for my lil’ sis because there are eight people trying to get one thing done here right now and I’m just in the way so I don’t have anything better to do
Gee, thanks.
Any time. Go, honestly, get out of the house. See a movie. When was the last time you went to a movie?
The last Benedict Sinclair thing, probably.
*Benton
*whose friends call him ‘Ben,’ apparently, according to Zane
There’s a new Benedict “Ben” Sinclair thing,Chris wrote back.Try that. Tell me how it is. Ok, now I really gotta go, love you sis baaaaaiiiiiiiiii
“Oh my god. Bye, you dork.” Vicki sent a laughing heart, looked at her crafts box, and pushed it all back under the coffee table. She probably wouldn’t go to a movie—although Chris would send her pleading-sad-eyes emojis if she admitted that to him—but she could at least not work. Go out for coffee. Maybe visit the library, a place she woulddefinitelynot be going in order to grill the librarian over whether Zane Bellamy was gay or not.
That sounded like a really good idea all of a sudden. But this time, Vicki had no reason to try to look cute and fashionable and snow bunny-ish for Zane. She put on snow pants, her big boots,and even bigger winter jacket than the wool one that she hadn’t yet knocked the mud off. Anyone she saw would mistake her for an enormous pale pink marshmallow drifting through the snow, but at least she would be warm. Out she went, tromping through the snow.
Before she’d lived in Virtue, she’d driven everywhere. Part of that was because most places she’d lived were more spread out, but some of it was thata lotof people in this funny little town walked. It hadn’t taken very long for it to start seeming strange to drive for anything less than a mile or two, or a big grocery store run. Vicki had thought chasing six year olds kept her in pretty good shape, but it turned out walking everywhere did wonders for her cardiovascular health.
She was sweating in all her layers by the time she got to town, but felt annoyingly invigorated. Next thing she knew, she was going to start eating a lot more vegetables, or something.
Well. Maybe not as long as Kate’s Cafe was open for lunch. She’d eaten a lot of breakfast, so clearly only needed to stop in for dessert, which was an ever-changing menu of pies, cakes, and custards. Noah Brannigan, whose mother ran a massage therapy clinic next door, came charging in at full speed a few minutes after Vicki sat down with a slice of apple pie, and was distracted from his task by seeing his teacher in public. He skidded to a stop, gaping at her, then whispered, “Ms. Hawthorne?” like he’d spotted an endangered animal in the wild.
“Hi, Noah. Are you here to get something for your mom?”
Still faintly awed, he whispered, “Yeah. Hot chocolate. Well, for me. Mom wants a coffee. Did you get your dress yet?”
Vicki laughed. “No, not yet.”
A borderline stern look came over the little boy’s face. “He’s not gonna disappoint you, is he? I can make your dress if he does!”
