Holly
Cherrybomb:Are you the kind of man who lets a woman stand on her own two feet, Hot Rod? Or are you intimidated by a woman who knows her own mind?
Hot Rod:That depends. Are you standing on your own two feet in front of a grenade?
Cherrybomb:You ask the hard questions. That’s what I like about you.
Hot Rod:Damn it. I thought you were going to say you liked me for my body.
Cherrybomb:I might…I guess we’ll have to wait a few weeks to find out. ;-)
Hot Rod:Tick-tock.
Three hours later…
Cherrybomb:I can’t sleep.
Hot Rod:Thinking about seeing my hot bod?
Cherrybomb:Among other things. What scares you most, Hot Rod?
Hot Rod:Damn, that escalated fast. Um. I’m gonna have to say people in those full-bodied animal costumes with the dead eyes.
Cherrybomb:So you’re not a furry. Good to know.
Hot Rod:What scares you?
Cherrybomb:Relying on other people.
Hot Rod:Oh, so you were looking for a deep answer.
Cherrybomb:I accept your furry answer. My REDACTED was a REDACTED.
Cherrybomb:Well, shit. Let’s just say it’s hard for me to let people in. Sometimes it’s even harder to forgive people when I should. Do you have trouble forgiving people?
Hot Rod:Depends on what they did. Did they fuck with my family?
Cherrybomb:Nah. Just your pride.
Hot Rod:I think I’d try. It’s always better to let old gripes go. They’re the kind that can bury you if you’re not careful.
“How many messages have you exchanged with him?” Bryn asks, blowing on her tea. It’s Sunday, our regular brother/sisters hangout day, and somehow, Rowan and I managed to convince her to get tea instead of going hiking. Bryn always wants to hike, but it’s cold, and the wind’s a bit blustery. Okay, the tea shop was my idea—Rowan is inexplicably into hiking too. In fact, sometimes he and Bryn actually go because they find it relaxing, the maniacs.Thisis relaxing to me. Tea of Fortune is warm, cozy, and bohemian, from the turquoise walls to the brass mirrors and colorful, plush rugs, and it always smells like something’s baking inside.
“Messages,” I say with a pfft of air. “I try never to speak with him if I can help it. But his daughterisin my class, which I’m only teaching thanks toyourfiancé. Some fates are unavoidable.” Still, I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about Cole and Jane. I mean, the Labelles are terrible people. Everyone in Highland Hills knows this. I’m just worried about my student, is all.
My sister’s brow furrows. “Are you talking about Cole Garrison?”
Red alert, red alert, you’ve said something stupid.
“Weren’t you?” I ask, all innocence.
“She was talking about your match on the dating app,” Rowan says with a grimace. “And now I have to leave our sibling bonding day and do something incredibly manly.”
“How about taking out the trash?” I suggest pointedly. “That would be the manliest.”
When I moved back home from New York, I moved in with Rowan, who lives in our childhood home. We’re both slovenly, Rowan and I. Neither of us cares about things like dusting or vacuuming, and I’m cautiously hopeful the thing I saw drifting across the floor last night was a dust bunny, not some sort of rodent. I’ve suggested we start a swear fund to go toward a once-a-month housekeeper. So far, I’ve donated the most money.
It’s been kind of nice, living together. Before I left for New York, Rowan and I weren’t overly close, partially because I worked at Mayberry Matchmakers, and he hates the mere mention of our family’s matchmaking history.
