In lieu of a response, I hand him an apple turnover.
“I didn’t earn this. I haven’t sent you on any dates.”
I grab my bag and keys, then start for the door. “I need an honest opinion. In case I put them on the menu.” I turn back and find him smiling.
“You’re doing it.” A statement, not a question. “The Porch.”
I hold up a hand to keep his expectations in check.
To keepmyexpectations in check.
To keep everyone’s expectations in check.
“I’m notdoingit, I’mthinkingabout it. I went over everything you sent, and maybe I’ll talk to Lennon about the space. But it’s all just talk, you know. Just... dreams.” John’s voice creeps in at the back of my mind, but I quickly shut it down.
He levels my gaze. “You’re totally doing it.” He takes a huge bite of the turnover. “And this definitely needs to be on the menu. Oh, can you add my favorite dessert? Those chocolate Scotcheroo things. They’re—”
“Rice Krispie treats with peanut butter, butterscotch, and a layer of chocolate on top,” I say. “I love those too.” And I already added them to my menu, but I don’t tell him that.
“You’d probably have to make them huge, like the size of a brick, to sell them in a bakery, but... I’d buy them.”
“Noted,” I say as we walk out to his Range Rover. “I’ll get right on that.”
As I walk around to the passenger side of his car, he shouts at me, “You’re totally doing it!”
I shout back, “Shut up!”
But I secretly smile.
Because he’s in my corner.
We drive over to the park where the pickleball courts are located. We park the SUV and get out, then make our way over to the courts, where we find Lennon wearing a cute green skirt and matching high-necked tank. Her white Nikes have a green swooshon them, and she is, as expected, gorgeous. She’s got on a cute white visor that somehow makes her blonde bob even more adorable.
I could not pull off that visor.
She rushes over and pulls me into a tight hug, and again, I’m stunned by her physical display of affection. It’s so genuine I’m not sure how to process it.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” She pulls back and looks at Miles, hugging a clipboard to her chest. “And you must be Miles. Claire’s neighbor-not-romantic-partner.” She sticks a hand out in his direction.
Miles laughs and shakes it while I search the immediate area for a hole to dive into. “That’s right,” he says.
“Are you sure about that relationship status?” Lennon squints at both of us.
Miles and I look at each other, then back at Lennon. “Yes,” I say, teeth gritted. “Just friends.”
“Okay, I just wanted to be absolutely sure before everything kicks off.” She pulls two white papers off the clipboard and hands one to each of us.
“What are these?”
“Your numbers,” she says.
I look at Miles, who seems as confused as I am. Did we accidentally sign up to run a 5K?
“I think you’re both going to be very popular today.” Lennon writes something down on the clipboard as a man appears by her side and wraps an arm around her shoulder.
“Oh, hon, this is my new friend, Claire, that I told you about,” Lennon says. “Claire, this is my husband, Daniel.”
My mind has snagged on Lennon’s previous comment, but I don’t want to be rude the first time I’m meeting her husband, so I shake his hand, then introduce Miles.
