THAT SOUNDS FUN
“If I ever say, ‘Oh, that sounds fun,’ again, please just kill me,” Aiden announced as he walked in the front door of the little bungalow we were renting on Summersea.
I looked up from my laptop, where I’d been fighting with income and expense spreadsheets for the Wisteria Inn for the past hour, and burst out laughing. Aiden had left the house this morning to go film a segment for his new show with Em and Nora—this week, they were working with a local potter—and he was now covered in a fine film of dust, his clothes spotted with clay stains.