“Are you sure?”
“Of course. We’re friends, Kiki. I trust you.”
Ori likely doesn’t realize how precious those words sound to me, or how desperately I rely on her friendship.
Pulling her into a quick hug, I stow the books safely in my briefcase. “Thank you. For… everything.”
“Don’t mention it. I know you’d do the same for me.”
She doesn’t say more. She doesn’t have to. Despite the harsh and unforgiving light under which my life is playing out, Ori and Ash never once retreated to the safety of the sidelines.
Maybe one day the rest of the community will know my intentions are honorable.
Maybe one day a dinosaur egg will hatch, and Theo can go on arealdino hunt.
Both things are equally as unlikely to happen, sadly.
“Oh, and Kiki,” Ori calls as I stroll toward the door.
I pivot. “Yes?”
“Just so you know, Eddie thinks you’re pretty great, too.”
Ori’s words blanket me in warmth as I stroll from One More Page into the bleak early winter sun.
Although I’m sure she’s just being kind, it tickles me to think that maybe, just maybe, my feelings for Eddie aren’t entirely one-sided.
Not that I have feelings for him.
I mean, I do, but they’re of friendship and companionship and…
Hell, Kiki you can’t even lie to yourself.
With a chuckle, I stow my briefcase in my car and head inside, grabbing a cart on my way in. Time to pick up some fixings for tonight.
Nothing special, since six-year-olds are notoriously picky eaters. Theo has about five meals that he eats with gusto and I’m not diverting from the proven path, so tonight is spaghetti and meatballs. Paschetti, as Theo calls it.
And despite Ash’s insistence to the contrary, it’snota date. First of all, you don’t bring your kid to a date. Second, Eddie is far too young and I’m… too damn old.
It’s totally innocent. He’s dropping by to take a gander at my flooring to see if I can slog through the next year as is or—heaven forbid—need new subfloors and flooring installed.
As thanks, I’m feeding him and his son.
End. Of. Story.
But you’d like there to be something more, wouldn’t you, Kiki?
Shut up, brain.
Remember those dreams…
I said, shut up!
“Excuse me,” a voice says to my right, snapping me from my daydream.
Wonderful, it’s one of Sparkwood’s notorious gossip hounds, or as Eddie lovingly dubbed them, the harpies.
But this time, she’s flying solo.
