Chapter 23
CHASE
Iglance over my shoulder as Pippa sits down at a vacant table.
She sets the giant Elvis teddy bear in the empty seat across from her.
At the Smythe’s, when she told me she’d fall asleep listening to Elvis croon, I couldn’t help but think how intimate that felt.
And I’m not going to lie, when I won the bear, I imagined her falling asleep cuddling it.
If I’m not mistaken, tonight has turned into a date. Guess I got one after all, and my meddling mother had nothing to do with it.
While waiting in line and reading the menu, trying to decide whether to go with traditional Margherita pizza or something more adventurous, a pair of clammy hands close over my eyes.
Had I channeled Superman, or even my own strength, I’d have thrown the person off me, but the hands are small and possibly belong to Pippa.
However, strongly scented perfume stings my nose. Pippa smells like roses. Whoever it is smells like greed.
“Guess who?” says a voice that reminds me of a bad case of bronchitis.
I break free and turn around to face Marlow.
She stands on the edge of a low partition fence. Then, as if losing her balance, she throws her hands into the air and leans into me. “Whoops. I was a little wobbly there.”
She drapes her arms around my neck. “Thanks for saving the day.”
This reminds me of the superhero conversation Pippa and I had. I realize I probably got a little too personal, but it’s like I could tell her anything and it would be alright.
But seeing Marlow is supremely unpleasant. The line shifts forward and I help Marlow lower to the ground, glad to put several feet between us.
“Funny seeing you here,” she says.
“Sure is.”
“Are you alone?”
“No. I’m with Pippa.” I gesture to where she sits at the table and waves at me.
A shadow crosses Marlow’s features. “Of course you are,” she says with a huff.
The Hinnifin Hall mean girl never liked Pippa and there is no mistaking the change in her demeanor when I mention her.
“I hear you had to go to that reform school. Want me to help you make a jailbreak?”
“It’s mandatory and not so bad. Plus, Pippa works there.”
“Oh, come on. Break a rule. Live a little,” Marlow purrs.
I want to know what Marlow is doing in small-town Concordia. It’s a strange coincidence, but finding out would require further conversation and I’m not interested.
“In that case, order me a basket of breadsticks—anything with tomato sauce.” She laughs and jabs me with her elbow like we share an inside joke.
The kid at the order window gestures that I’m next. I simply order a slice of regular pizza and one called primavera festa that’s loaded with toppings. After paying, I gather up the tray with the food and drinks.
Still in line, Marlow calls over her shoulder, “Don’t trip with that tray.”
I try to shake off a sinking feeling at seeing her again. But I don’t want to let her spoil the evening. Pippa waves me over and I settle across from her at the picnic table.
I tell her the toppings and divide up the plates. “I had both slices split in half.”
“They look and smell so delicious.” Pippa leans in, breathing deeply.
I inhale and catch a whiff of strong perfume. That slinking feeling creeps over my skin as Marlow appears again.
“Thanks for the breadsticks,” she says and slides onto the bench next to me, getting cozy.
I move over to get away from her, putting me on the edge of the seat.
Pippa’s face, bright before, crumbles.
“Hey, Pippa. I didn’t know you were here.
Chase was so sweet and bought me these breadsticks.
By any chance, do you have some sauce?” She bursts out laughing like that’s the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard.
“Oh, wait, should I send an email and ask?” Marlow smiles wickedly at me as though waiting for me to join the fun.
Just then, two little girls rush up to Pippa and wrap their arms around her, shouting, “Auntie Pippop!”
“Paige and Parker, my two favorite nieces.” With a wide smile, she returns the hugs.
A woman with reddish hair and round features brings up the rear. Balloons, toy prizes, and a greasy bag fill her hands.
“I take it you’ve been on the spinning teacups,” Pippa says to her.
“Three times. I promised them one more ride then—”
Pippa squeezes an arm around her friend as if to keep her from tipping over from dizziness. Then, turning to me, she says, “Gemma, my best friend, meet Chase. Chase, meet Gemma.”
The woman blinks a few times as though bringing me into focus. “So lovely to meet you.” She has a Concordian accent, which is part British English and part French.
“Likewise,” I say, shaking her hand. “And these two little beauties must be the royal princesses of Concordia,” I say with a smile.
The little girls grin. “I’m Paige and this is my twin, Parker.”
Parker adds, “Auntie Pippop is a twin too, but she got stuck with Uncle Freddie.”
“Auntie Phoebe is much prettier.”
We all laugh at the kids’ candor.
“I know your Uncle Freddie. He’s getting married soon.”
“Me too, but I don’t like Aimme. She frowns too much,” Parker sticks out her tongue.
“And she looks at other boys too,” Paige whispers like she knows that’s a no-no.
Uh, oh, Gemma mouths.
“I remember Freddie. How is he these days?” Marlow purrs. Turning to Gemma, she says, “And I’m Marlow.”
Gemma’s eyes grow wide like saucers and she turns to Pippa. In a whisper, she says, “You owe me an epic story later because I want to understand how this happened.” She gestures between the three of us.
Pippa sighs. “Unfortunately, I always have one at the ready.”
“Pippop? That’s a good one,” Marlow cackles.
As if sniffing out a rat, the little girls recognize she’s teasing and scowl in Marlow’s direction.
Gemma gasps. “Wait. What happened to your lip? Were you in a brawl?” She puts up her dukes, dropping the bag. “You know I have your back.” She narrows her eyes in Marlow’s direction.
“I thought she had a bad lip filler job,” Marlow says pointedly.
Pippa and Gemma exchange a knowing look.
“Or she ate some chocolate and had an allergic reaction. Gemma, did Poo-pa ever tell you about the time—?”
“Marlow.” Pippa huffs an exhale as if her patience is shot. “I regret to inform you that we’re no longer in high school and your jokes aren’t funny.” Pippa narrows her eyes.
“Oh, come on, it’s just a harmless little tease.”
“Pippa may have a teddy bear, but I’m a Mama Bear and you are talking to my best friend,” Gemma grinds out.
“But we all know Poo-pa is hilarious and oh so romantic. Funny to see she’s here with the Romeo she wrote that sonnet to.”
“Marlow,” I growl, stepping in as my patience also runs thin.
Then Pippa adds, “Why don’t you take a turn or three on the teacups? Maybe that’ll set you to rights.” She grabs the Elvis bear and, with a little snort, stomps away.
“We’re going to find another table.” I gather up the food. Gemma and the kids follow.
After locating somewhere else to sit, it takes me a full three minutes of angry eating before I remember my manners. Four sets of eyes—two little and two big—stare at me.
I wipe my face with a napkin. “Sorry about that. I suppose I failed in table manners. Marlow is just so—” I grit my teeth, also remembering that I have a young audience.
But Pippa smiles wide. “I may have to nudge the evaluation standards a tiny bit, but,” she pinches her fingers together, “that was possibly the most chivalrous, kind, and forthright thing anyone has ever done for me. Marlow is a bully and you stood up to her...for me.” She gives Gemma a side hug. “You too.”
An amused smile replaces my glower.
“Thank you both,” Pippa says. “And the pizza is delicious.”
“I’m sorry I devoured it, but I am about ready for dessert.”
“Ooh, can we have some too?” Paige asks.
Gemma sighs. “Mama Bear is just about tapped out.”
“I have an idea. How about Mama Bear and Elvis Bear head home and we’ll treat the kids to dessert and some rides...but maybe not in that order,” Pippa says with a glance in my direction. “If that’s okay with Chase.”
“I happen to love teacups.”
“You do?” Pippa asks.
“Remember the heights thing? They’re safely on the ground. And I have three sisters and was always the fourth wheel to make things even.”
“No fair, you have three sisters? I only have one,” Parker says.
“Papa Bear and I are working on it,” Gemma murmurs.
“Speaking of Amos, where is he?”
“I’ve been Solo Bear while he’s been away on a business trip. Looks like the brewery will be up and running by next year at this time. He’ll be home tomorrow, thankfully. But the fair leaves town and I promised the cubs we’d visit.”
Chase smiles at the bear joke we’ve woven through dinner. “My grandparents used to call me Cub and when I started on the Bruisers, the name stuck. But now they call me the Lion.”
When we say our goodbyes, preparing to bring the kids on tour number two of the fair, I lean into Pippa, inhaling her rose scent, and say, “Pippop, I think you have a story or two to tell me.”
She looks up at me with her big brown eyes. “Where would I even begin?”
I’m not sure, but this does feel like a beginning.
Just then, a magic show starts on a nearby stage. I prop each of the girls on my shoulders so they can see—Paige on the left and Parker on the right.
Afterward, we wait in line for the teacups. I stand in as their human jungle gym and then alternate giving them piggyback rides while we scout out more kiddie rides.
Pippa and the girls smile and laugh and it’s the best sight and sound. Better than pizza or magic, or even football.
With all of us exhausted and dizzy, we get the girls cotton candy-candy floss. At the stall where workers spin it into clouds at the end of paper wands, we learn that in Concordia, it’s called “fairy sugar.”
“I have a special order of pink fairy sugar for Princess Paige.” I pass it to her and she grins. “And a special purple one for Princess Parker.”
“Thank you,” they chorus.
While Parker and Paige dance around, waving their wands like magic fairies, Pippa and I share a fluffy cloud of fairy sugar of our own.
We take bites from opposite sides and our eyes meet.
Pippa’s brown eyes shine. Her smile reaches mine.
I’m pretty sure we’re having a moment and the only thing that’s keeping us from a kiss, something I deeply desire, is all the sticky candy between us.