“Make that eight,” I said as I pulled out my wallet. "A bottle of water for me.”
Her green eyes lit up as she scanned the drink options. “Ooh! And a hot chocolate!”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Hot chocolate? It’s eighty-five degrees out, cupcake.”
“Hot chocolate is made for pierogies. I don’t make the rules.”
Noted.
“Two hot chocolates,” I said as I handed over my card and waited for the cashier to swipe it.
I kept my hand on her back as we moved to the side and waited for our number to be called.
“How was your morning?”
Willow chewed on her lip. I watched as she debated just how much information she would give me. “Lazy morning. Slept in. Caught up on some admin work. Finished reading Whitney’s new book.”
“When do you usually write?” I asked.
“I’m on a break at the moment. I’ll start a new book whenever I leave New York.”
Well, that was something.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I grabbed our pierogies and hot chocolates from the pick-up counter. Two stools pressed up against the bar along a picture window became available. I snagged them and pulled one out for Willow.
Surprisingly, she sat without argument. “Wearen’t going anywhere.Ihaven’t decided where I’m going next. But I hope you’re okay with long distance because I plan on getting as far from New York as possible.”
I chuckled as I doled out the food, half for her and half for me. “I hear Arizona is pleasant in the middle of summer.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Actually, I was thinking Oregon. The cliffs would make getting rid of a six-foot-two body a lot easier.”She took a bite of a pierogi and let out a guttural moan. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.” She chased it with a sip of hot chocolate and did a happy little wiggle in her seat.
Score.She was a foodie. I loved that. Food wasn’t only for sustenance. It was meant for enjoyment. For connection. For culture. For traditions and memories. It was a platform for gathering and it lowered inhibitions.
“So, Oregon. Work or pleasure?” I said around a mouthful.
She shrugged. “I just need to find somewhere new.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever had a woman move across the country to get away from me. As disappointing as that is, I’ll check it off as a first.”
Willow rolled her eyes as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. “What’s that old saying? It’s not you, it’s me? I don’t stay anywhere for more than three months.”
Now that was interesting.
Instead of asking why, I asked, “Have you been in New York for three months, or is the city a pit stop?”
“Pit stop. I'm here for the conference. Decided to add a few days and make it a vacation while I decide where I’m driving next.”
“Where were you before this?”
“Montana. Three months on a ranch while I wrote a book about cowboys.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Damn. So, you go to the settings of the books that you write?”
“More like I go to a setting and write a book about it.”
She was distracted enough by the food to open up. Jackpot.
“How does that work?” I asked.
