“Pass. I’ll figure things out,” Winnie says. “Worst-case scenario, I’ll bunk with Chevy and work on building my business. Unless I get another offer.”
And by offer, we all know she means a proposal. As much as Val and I aren’t terribly enthusiastic about Dale, it’s shocking he hasn’t locked Winnie down. We expect it any day now. I think she said he wanted to make sure his savings account was at a certain place before taking the next step. Which only further illustrates my point about him. Responsible? Yes. Romantic? No.
“You and Chevy would kill each other,” I tell her.
Winnie smiles. “Yeah, but then I’m the beneficiary of his house, so I just have to make sure I’m the last one standing.”
“You can always move in with me,” Val says. A lovely offer, except that her garage apartment at Mari’s is one room. Plus, her tendency toward what she calls creative chaos is what Winnie calls a filthy mess no human should have to inhabit.
I’d offer my place, but the place is full with Pat there. Too full. Claustrophobia-inducing full.
“I’ll figure it out,” Winnie says, taking a long sip of her milkshake. “Don’t you worry about me.”
Val takes a loud sip and then gives me a pointed look. “So, are we going to head back to your house or what?”
“Why would you come by my house?”
“Why don’t you want us to come by?” Val counters.
Ever since Pat and I did the thing at the courthouse—the whole marriage thing—my friends have been pestering me about all of it. I feel like a zoo animal they want to stare at through the bars. Forgive me for not wanting to be examined. I wouldn’t like it under normal circumstances, and I definitely don’t—not now that I have something to hide. Namely, the electric chemistry that ignites whenever Pat and I are together. It gets worse each day I have to share the house and my life with him.
Almost a week together, and I’m ready to crack.
“We could take a scenic drive?” I suggest. “Or … go shopping? Get a car wash?”
“Maybe stop in CVS for a flu shot?” Val suggests. “Or an enema?”
“What’s an enema?” Jo asks, slurping down the last of her shake.
I glare at Val. “Nothing you need to worry about, Jojo. But if the time ever comes, I’ll be sure your Auntie Val explains it.”
Val swivels in her seat and turns to face Winnie and Jo in the back seat. “What’s the scoop, Jojo? How are things with Pat living there?”
“Val,” I grumble.
But Jo is done with her shake, pumped full of sugar, and her mouth is already off and running. “Pat is the best. He’s fixing a lot of stuff even though Lindy keeps yelling at him to stop. And he takes his shirt off a lot.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “Aunt Lindy complains, but I know she likes it. I saw her watching him from the window.”
I quietly die as the sound of Winnie and Val’s laughter fills the car. “The two of you need to get out of my car,” I tell them.
“Okay. But we’ll meet you at your place,” Val says. “Please?”
“Pretty please?” Winnie begs, and I glare.
“Come on, Aunt Lindy,” Jo says. “Maybe Pat will make us all dinner!”
Val presses a hand over her heart. “He’s cooking for you too?”
“I don’t even know if he's there,” I tell them.
“He’s always there,” Jo says, and she’s right.
Pat is ALWAYS THERE. He’s unavoidable. Most days, he feels inevitable. And dang it if I don’t feel the slightest hop and skip in my heart thinking about going home right now to see him.