“Well. That was certainly interesting,” Annie says as we head back to my SUV. “I wonder how Gustav and Nevin became friends. They don’t appear to have much in common.”
“ ‘Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows,’ ” I quote idly as we buckle our seat belts. “Just look at us.”
“Hm. Are we?”
“What?”
“Strange?”
“Asks the woman who sings to her meatball subs and can juggle fruit while flawlessly rapping about big butts.”
“Oh, no, I admit that I amweird. But not strange. They’re completely different things.” She flashes me a devilish look before becoming serious again. “I know we’re very different people, obviously. But I was starting to think…I don’t know. It’s kind of silly but I feel like, despite the unusual circumstance in which we now find ourselves, we make a certain amount of sense together.” My heart accelerates as a hesitant smile stretches across her face. “As friends,” she tacks on, making it sound a bit like a question.
“You’re blackmailing me,” I remind her.
“Only a little.”
I snort out a soft “Ha.”
“Besides,” she says, crossing her ankles beneath the glove box, “I think you like it.”
“You think I like that you’re blackmailing me?”
“Yes. Because it means that you don’t have to be alone.” I’m fairly certain Annie intends that in the “not alone in solving this problem” way, but something inside me takes it in a different direction. Unable to go backward or forward, I’ve defaulted to remaining in place. It’s left me lonelier than I’ve been able to admit, but the ache of it continues to dissipate a fraction more with every second I spend in her company. When Nicole unloaded this goose on me, it felt like it could potentially be a catalyst for movement. But then Annie showed up and uncovered my conundrum, and ever since, it’s felt like I have rockets strapped to my shoes—I’m being forced forward, forward, at a much greater speed than I ever expected and with absolutely no control over any of it. It’s terrifying.
It’s also surprisingly freeing. Thanks to Annie, for the first time in a long time, my mind can conceive of a worthwhile destination potentially ahead.
If I can stay out of jail, that is.
“I do like that.” I say it so quietly that I’m not sure she hears me. But then she emits a little pleased-sounding hum, though whether it’s generated by the sentiment or her simple enjoyment of having been correct, I don’t know. “I appreciate you helping me with this. And with the shop. Thank you, in case I haven’t said it.”
“You haven’t,” she confirms with a sly smile. “But you’re very welcome.” Annie shifts in her seat so that she’s facing me, leftleg now tucked beneath her—the way I’ve noticed she sits atop the counter when she doesn’t realize I’m still around. “Can I tell you a secret?” she asks after a moment.
“If you want.”
“I lied to you last night.”
I riffle through my memories of everything we discussed and try to figure out to what she could be referring. Nothing sticks out as obvious or particularly problematic. “About?”
“When you asked about my celebrity crush. It isn’t Harrison Ford. I mean, it isn’tnothim. He’s always been a fox. But…”
I come to a halt at a stop sign and take the opportunity to glance over as Annie trails off. Her face is illuminated by a nearby streetlamp, and I can just make out the blush spreading across her round cheeks. Or maybe it’s just the reflection of the pink neon light in the window of the bar we’ve stopped in front of.
“But what?” I prompt.
“But,” she finally continues, “for a while now, it’s beenyou, Cal.”
My heart stumbles and my breath hitches as my brain directs all of its energy toward trying to make sense of her words. “Huh?”
“After I saw you onAntiques Roadshow. I just…something about watching you with that lamp. You looked so handsome, and you were so knowledgeable. I was immediately drawn to you. So when Uncle Harold asked me to come help out at Virtu, that was one of the reasons it was so easy to say yes. Because I really wanted to meet you in person. To see if you were like you were in my imagination.”
I swallow. “And? Am I?”
“Not at all,” she says with a little laugh. “Even so, you’ve been growing on me.”
“Glad to hear it.” I’m surprised I manage the words with how erratically my central nervous system has started acting in response to this development.
For a moment, the only sound is the low murmur of a voice on the radio giving an update on international affairs and the periodic scrape of my windshield wipers as I try to erase the evidence of a cold drizzle that’s just starting up.
