Friends Don't Fall in Love(18)
As I think about families, I pull out my phone.
LORELAI: It’s been two days! Can you tell me the gender yet?
He responds almost immediately.
HUCK: Nice try, Jones. I told you. You have to come back first.
LORELAI: You’re seriously holding this hostage? You know I could just text Arlo.
HUCK: You could try …
Which means he already swore his partner to secrecy. Damn.
HUCK: You busy right now? Melissa wants to ask your opinion on a wall or something.
LORELAI: She knows I’m not Shelby, right?
HUCK: I did explain that, yes. But she said something about your “exceptional taste.”
LORELAI: Oh well, in THAT case …
HUCK: Picture incoming.
A moment later I zoom in on a photo of a wall in his sister’s kitchen that is painted in what looks like two kinds of chalkboard paint. One somehow looks more rustic than the other, and from what I remember of her decor, it would match better.
I scroll to his name and hit call.
“Hello? Lorelai? Hold on. It’s loud here. One sec. Don’t hang up. I can’t—hell, Meliss—” I can’t help the smile pulling at my lips at the way he’s stumbling over his words. It is unusually loud over there. He must be at some family get-together or other.
I hear a door close, and it’s suddenly much quieter. “Lorelai?”
“I’m here.”
“Sorry about that. My niece got into ’Bama. We’re having a brunch celebration.”
“Hey! That’s fifty bucks to you, right?”
He chuckles low into the phone, and the sound warms me from the inside out.
“Yeah. So of course Scott’s pouting into his beer.”
“Too bad. Uncle Scottie should have paid better attention. Even I knew she was a ’Bama girl through and through.”
“How was the wedding?” he asks, and I sigh, spotting a bench and sitting down. Rogers flops over in the shady grass, exhausted. I might have to carry him home. Oh darn.
“Beautiful. Gorgeous weather, gorgeous bride, awestruck groom, all the fixings for a disgustingly perfect day,” I tease.
“How’d your song go?”
“Without a hitch. You were right. I shouldn’t have worried. They loved it and Cam cried like a six-foot-two bearded baby.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I knew it.”
It matches the grin in mine when I say softly, “You usually do.” I fight the urge to clear my throat. I’m not usually soft. Only for Huck, I guess, which is concerning.
Silence fills the miles between us, and I rush to fill it. “So, the wall? The chalkboard paint? I say the more rustic one. It matches that whole farmhouse look Melissa has going on.”
“That’s what I said.” He sounds aggrieved. “She was giving me all sorts of shit for not bringing you along this morning. I told her you were in Michigan, but apparently my family likes you more than they put up with me. What can I say?”
“Aw, that’s not true. Your nephews adore you.”
“Only the ones who haven’t hit puberty yet. The older ones definitely choose you.”
I laugh because he’s probably right. “Fair enough.”
“I should get back. I have to go kick D’s ass in Fortnite.”
I swallow back the disappointment. Which is stupid, because I’m sure I’ll see him this week. In the next few days, even. Maybe I’ll surprise him on our balcony tomorrow night when I’m back in town.
Oh god.
“Good luck!”
“Thanks for calling, Jones. I’ll be sure to tell my sister I was right.”
I laugh and we say goodbye and I end the call before slipping down to the ground to sit cross-legged on the grass next to Rogers. I smooth his little drooly jaw and stroke his speckled fur. I have no idea how long I sit there, but by the time I stand up and we return to the trail, I’ve made plans to invite myself upstairs to Huck’s the minute I get back into town.
7
LORELAI
I TAKE MY CHANCES
After carrying one very tired puppy home and parking him on the bathroom rug while I shower off my almost-run and the wedding from the night before, I spend the afternoon catching up on work emails. Well, really just a handful of emails from the same person: my agent, Jennifer Blake. We go way back. Maybe too far back, if I’m honest. She was my agent before and up to when everything went haywire after the “Ohio” incident. When I was twenty-four, Jen found me in a tiny coffeehouse playing covers. Not long after that, she found my old bandmates, Carissa and Lanie, and we became the Belles. For several years, things were the stuff of dreams coming true. Sure, Carissa was a prima donna who always wanted to go solo and Lanie hated touring because it took her away from her model/actor boyfriend … so that was never ideal. Really, though, that only made things easier when they fell apart. No hard feelings. Or at least none outside of what I read in the comments section.
After “Ohio,” Jennifer dropped me, but again, I couldn’t really blame her. I mean, if my own fiancé … well, anyway. Maybe I should have tried harder to find new representation when I returned to Nashville, but after a few hard passes right out of the gate, and the widespread rumor that my name had been cancelled around town by several top executives, I was feeling lucky Jennifer didn’t slam the door in my face. In fact, she came to me. Aside from Craig and Arlo, she was the only one. Besides, if she believed I had a chance to make it again … that’s half the battle, right? Finding someone to believe in you?