“Evie.”
“Oh. She’ll be two in December.”
“That’s a good age,” I said, because that’s what everyone always says, no matter what age is being discussed.
“Yeah.”
We looked at each other for a long moment as the kitchen walls closed in on us. The air in the room grew heavy and pregnant.
Which was a weird thought to have, since I was just thinking about Chip’s sister being pregnant while she was in high school. And wondering lots of things that weren’t my business.
My heart thudded against my sternum.
Chip kept looking at me.
I looked down at my hands.
“I should probably let my grandmas know where to pick me up.”
A dark blue Camry pulled into Chip’s driveway: Oma’s car. She honked twice.
Linda Kellner was a paragon of Teutonic punctuality.
“Oh. That’s my ride,” I said.
I dumped my ziplock baggie full of half-melted ice into the sink—I’d started aching again as we went over my Algebra II answers—while Chip gathered up our Gatorade bottles.
“Thanks for letting me hang out,” I said. “I don’t think I would have survived a bike ride tonight.”
“It’s all good.”
“And thanks for your help. Really.”
Chip grinned. “I had fun.”
I groaned. “Math is not fun.”
“Well, I enjoyed the company at least.”
Chip kept grinning at me, but it wasn’t his usual grin. There was something gentler about it. Almost like a question.
“Well. Thanks.”
“Anytime. You wanna leave your bike here? You can get it after practice tomorrow?”
My face heated at that. I wasn’t sure why.
But I said “Sure,” because Oma didn’t have a bike rack.
As I laced up my shoes, Evie ran down the stairs. Chip scooped her up mid-dash and swung her up to cover her face with kisses. She squealed and laughed and said “Noooo!”
Chip stopped. “No?”
“Not now.”
“Okay.” Chip set her down, and she scampered off into the kitchen.
I liked that he respected her boundaries, even though she was a toddler.
