Chapter 16 Chris #2
“I’ll let you pick the music,” I said, biting the licorice.
She rolled her eyes but she was smiling. Little dimple. I forced my gaze away from her to start the car.
I would never let her pay for anything or take her money.
Never. She couldn’t afford it. And the reason I didn’t let her drive was because I wanted her to relax on the way up, look out the window, scroll on her phone if she felt like it.
I don’t think she actually wanted to drive, she just didn’t want it to be unfair.
I didn’t care about fair. I wasn’t keeping score.
And I wasn’t letting her take her car. I meant that part—it was a piece of shit.
“You know, I bet if you let your beard grow in for the next few days, you wouldn’t be able to see the marker,” she said.
I put a hand to my chin. “I don’t think I’d look good in a beard.”
“I bet you’d look distinguished.”
“This isn’t distinguished?” I said, gesturing to my cheek.
She started digging in her purse. “I think I have something that might work,” she said.
“I’m telling you, it’s not coming off,” I said.
“And I am telling you that you haven’t tried everything and we can’t go around with this on your face. What if there are children? Aha!” She held up a bottle.
I eyed it. “What is that?”
“Beauty oil,” she said, putting her purse on the floor.
She took a napkin from the center console and put a few drops on it, then she scooted closer to me. I backed away and froze like a human ice sculpture with my shoulder blades stuck to the door.
She blinked at me balking. “Are you going to let me do this or not?” she asked.
“No. Give it to me.”
She gave me a look, but she let me take the napkin. Thank God. My heart was galloping.
We did not touch. Ever. Not once in all the time I’d known her. Not a hug or a handshake. I don’t know at what point I decided that touching her was something I was never going to do, but I had. I avoided it so much I couldn’t tell you with certainty that I’d catch her if she fell.
I wiped at the marker while she watched from the passenger seat. The oil smelled faintly familiar because it was one of the many scents that made up her.
“I have a funny story to tell you,” she said, her eyes fixed on the side of my face.
“Oh yeah?”
“Woofarine got into a lot of trouble yesterday.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“He got run over by a lady pushing a cart full of tamales.”
I stopped wiping my face. “What?”
“I was sitting outside and Woofarine was with me. I had him leashed to the lawn chair. The lady came zipping around the corner out of nowhere and he went for the tire. Got run over right in front of me.”
I stared at him on her lap. He looked proud of himself—and fine. “Is he okay?”
“I mean, obviously. He popped out completely unscathed. Not a scratch on him except for a little tuft of fur missing on his cheek.”
I blinked at her and she shrugged.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this,” I said.
“I was seeing you in a few hours and what was there to tell? Our dog is immortal, we should get used to it. I got free tamales out of it,” she said.
“You didn’t get me any?” I teased.
“Uh, I did actually. The chicken ones you like. They’re in the freezer. You can get them the next time you come over.”
I smiled.
“Also, I brought you something,” she said, going back to her purse. She dug around and came out with a book. “For you.”
I lowered the napkin. It was Cross Stitch. “You’re giving me your copy?” I said, looking at her.
“No. I got you your own. Mine is really beat up. The spine is broken and there’s water damage. I wanted to get you a nicer one. I found one at a used bookstore. It’s like new. I traded in a bunch of my hardcovers in exchange for it.”
I set the napkin down and took the book gently from her. I couldn’t believe I was holding this. “Thank you,” I breathed.
“You’re welcome. I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me pay for gas, so I had to give you something.”
I opened it and reverently flipped through the pages.
“It’s on page 234,” she said.
“What is?”
“The quote. The one you like.”
I went to page 234. There it was.
I’d written it from memory. I’d gotten it right. I read it out loud.
“‘Maybe this isn’t the kind of love that deserves to exist. Maybe it’s the kind that wars start over. The kind that topples empires and never leaves the world better than it found it.’”
She smiled. “That’s the one.”
The oil worked to take off most of the marker. We went to the restaurant I’d planned and got to the cabin by 2:00.
“Fucking finally,” Mike said, coming around the corner before we were even fully in the door. He had a beer in his hand.
He grabbed Larissa and hugged her.
“Ow ow, Mike? You’re pulling my hair,” she croaked.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, letting her go.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, setting Woofarine down. He bounced off Mike’s shins for a moment, then took off into the house.
Mike tipped his beer into his mouth. “They’re all on the dock swimming. I waited for you guys, go get changed.” He was already in swim trunks and flip-flops. “You guys want a margarita?”
“I’ll have one,” Larissa said.
He looked at me. “Chris?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Ahhh come on, it’s a fucking party.” He smacked my shoulder, a little too hard.
I rubbed my arm. “Uh, okay? Maybe just one?”
“That’s my boy! I’ll meet you two out there.” Then he grabbed Larissa and kissed her. Roughly.
Her eyes flew wide as he bent her backward. “Mike…” she said against his mouth, trying to push him off. “Mike!”
He put his forehead to hers. “Missed you.” And he let her go and left.
She staggered back a few steps and looked at me, disheveled. “Okay…” she said, smoothing down her hair.
“I think he’s a little… happy to see you?” I said, not knowing what to say.
“Yeah.” Her face flushed. “I guess I’m gonna go get changed?”
“Yeah.”
I showed her to the room she was sharing with Mike, and she went in without looking at me again.
I went to the kitchen to swap out the sponge.
When I was done, I went to check the pantry and found myself face-to-face with a jar of peanut butter and trail mix—he hadn’t cleaned anything out. Not even after I told him.
He was drinking, not fucking paying attention. It pissed me off.
Larissa’s allergy terrified me. It literally kept me up at night.
She was careful, but even with all her due diligence, there was still the risk.
I didn’t tell her, but I’d brought an EpiPen too.
I got Heather to write me the prescription.
My insurance wouldn’t cover it, and it was seven hundred dollars, but I wanted to have it, especially up here.
We were over an hour from the closest hospital.
What if she had a reaction and her pen didn’t work or we couldn’t find it or she required another dose? I needed it, for my own peace of mind.
I stood there for another moment, staring at the nuts he didn’t throw out. Then I grabbed a trash bag and tossed everything myself.