Krysta gave me A Look.
I tried to start over. “She’s in Vermont to write a screenplay, and then she’ll be gone. And you know that I’m not capable of anything... meaningful.”
“Right, you only get one soul mate, you’re destined to die alone, life is a slow decay, et cetera et cetera.”
I was relieved she understood. “Exactly.”
“Well, I’ve been watching you for only five minutes, but I would say that the way you’re looking at her isn’tunmeaningful.”
“That’s because she was built in the ideal roommate factory,” I said patiently. “She and I grew up the same way, and she’s hilarious, and she makes me do things I wouldn’t normally do. Like talk to you, by the way.”
“Hmph.”
“And things are nice with her, you know? I’ve even written some new music while she’s been here.”
Krysta swiveled her head to stare at me. “You’ve writtenwhat?”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said, suddenly defensive. “It used to be my job, once upon a time.”
“Yeah,once. You haven’t written anything in years.” She studied me. “Does this mean she’s your new muse?”
“She told me that she doesn’t want to be my muse.” Ahhh, that particular rejection sucked to remember. “So she’s been trying to find someone else for me. Muse matchmaking, so to speak.”
“Is that how muses work these days? Swipe right to find your inspiration?”
“The last time I found a muse was nearly twenty years ago. I don’t know how anything works these days.”
“Just be careful,” Krysta said, and her voice had lost its usual gruffness. She sounded absolutely serious now. “Sometimes the girls who seem like they don’t need anyone or anything are the ones who are the most easily hurt.”
“Hurt.”
“Yes,hurt, dumbass,” Krysta said. “By you.”
“By me?” The idea was as ridiculous as a sunbeam being hurt by a... well, I didn’t even know what. A sad tree stump or something. “She doesn’t care enough about me for me to hurt her. And just look at her.” Sunny was currently toasting Tall Ron with a rolled-up piece of cheese from the craft services table. I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as I watched. “She’s irrepressible.”
Krysta was now staring at me like I’d been replaced with a pod person. “I’m going to upgrade my worry to a bundled group rate now.”
I waved her off. Krysta was wrong. I liked Sunny; I thought about her a lot. Being away from her was... vexing. But this wasn’t a broken heart waiting to happen. My heart was buried in California. I was just the unlucky body still stumbling around without it.
Sunny came over just as my phone began to buzz, and while she grilled Krysta onTwilightmusical stories, I read through the Cat Advisory Text Thread texts coming in.
Betty:We found him!
Judy:Betty means the mailman.
Dee:Judy and Betty mean his remains.
Betty:Dee, don’t be morbid.
Judy:There were two postal workers from Piney Notch in 1944: James Dugan and Saul Wilshire, Jr. Except Saul Jr.had been drafted three months before Christmas, so it *had* to have been James in the blizzard.
Betty:He’s in the Christmas Notch cemetery!
Dee:It’s the only cemetery in America with a working Santa Claus hologram, if you can imagine.
Me:Should I go there?
Dee:Obviously. You can see if any family members are buried near him and use their names to stalk his living relations.
