“What are you smiling at?” Chantel asks.
I feel caught as I spin to face her. I glance back at the customers before leaning in towards her. “Braxton just ran into the rain to bring me my umbrella,” I say. “Apparently, I left it in the caboose last night.”
Chantel does a high-pitched hum. “Dang,” she says. “That means something.”
We hurry back to the customers, but I can’t help but play her words in my mind. I, too, think it means something. I want to think it means he noticed me and the forgotten umbrella because he’s interested in me. But if nothing else, it shows that Braxton is more of a gentleman than I gave him credit for.
“Yep,” I hear Chantel say. “The storytelling duel is tonight at seven o’clock.”
The customer, an adorable blonde who frequents the shop, grins my way. “I’ll be back for it. Good luck! I hope you and Braxton win.”
She knows his name. Of course, she does.
“Thanks,” I say. “Do you know him?”
The gal shakes her head. “No, I just remembered his name ‘cuz you guys used it in the story. And thenweused them to vote, so…”
“Right,” I say. “Well, thanks for the support. We’ll see what happens tonight.”
Tonight.My once-waning dose of dread rises back to the surface. Why did I have to host the storytelling thing in the first place? Not that I can complain, the Coffee Loft had one of its best sell days since I opened the place. Tonight, I anticipate aneven bigger turnout. Plus, at least this time, I won’t be caught off guard.
Still, the dilemma is real—Braxton and I are supposed to be telling an improv romance story—romance! If I insist on dousing every spark he lights, the crowd won’t like it. And what am I so afraid of anyway? It’s not like we’reactuallytelling a story about ourselves, even if I did start things out that way with the whole boat-maker analogy. But what else did I have? I’m not a writer. I’m lucky I came up with anything.
That thought is pulled from my mind as I lay eyes on the next customers in line—a tall man with a toddler on one hip beside a short redhead in a forest green sweater.
“Viv!” I rush from behind the counter and dash in for a warm hug. Her belly bulges between us, telling me something I hadn’t been aware of.
My eyes get wide as I pull back. “You’re expecting again?”
“What can I say?” Chad answers for her, pulling me in for a sideways hug. “She can’t keep her hands off me.” The lanky man lifts Skyler’s floppy hand so he waves at me. “You remember Mag Mags?”
Skyler pulls back and shakes his head, peering at me suspiciously over his ruddy cheeks and red nose. He’s so cute I want to lean in, rub noses with him, and squish my cheek against his to take in the doughy softness.
“It’s okay,” I assure. “You’ll remember me next time if I put extra whipped cream on your hot chocolate, won’t you?”
“I knowIwill,” Chad says with a laugh.
Viv nudges her husband’s arm with an adoring smile. “Sky’s going through that wholestranger dangerphase,” she explains as if I might know what she means.
“Yeah.” I try to recall how my nephew Jack was as a toddler. Though we were so close, I doubt he ever viewed me as a stranger.
“He’ll grow out of it. And this one…” Viv rubs a hand over her round belly. “She’s due the first week in April.”
“She?”
Viv holds my gaze and nods, a glowing grin lighting her pretty face. Viv and I used to talk about the future—one that, of course, contained visions of baby girls who were just the same age so they could be best friends like us.
Heat crashes through me like a fast-rising tide, tossing me off balance with pushes and pulls from all directions. Happiness for my close friend and her growing family, excitement to meet the little angel growing miraculously inside her, and a hot streak of fear that it might never happen for me.
“We’re naming her Lydia, after my grandmother.”
“Ah, that’s so beautiful.” I throw my arms around her once more and press a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so happy for you.” I pull back and glance at the boys in her life. “For all of you,” I say, turning toward the counter. “Here, let’s get you guys warmed up with some drinks.”
Once the trio is seated with their order, I can’t help but watch the small family. Viv and Chad study Skyler’s every move like he’s center stage of the best show in town. The adorable toddler makes a game of dotting his nose with whipped cream and making his parents laugh. At one point, he even motions to his mommy’s tummy and babbles the wordsissy.
The tide rushes back in. I see small, growing families every day; it’s nothing new. But to see Vivian—my best friend who stood as a fellow bridesmaid at the same weddings, also wondering when her time would come—it’s bittersweet. Encouraging and discouraging all at the same time. I’m thrilled for her, of course. Plus, if it happened to her, it could happen to me, but when? It’s been over three years, and I’m no closer to finding Mr. Right than I was back then.
I’m still enduring my share of cringe-worthy episodes like I did back on Viv’s wedding day. I want tooutgrowthose already, notembracethem just so I can get struck by Lovely’s freaking Cupid Dart Number Two.
