13. y
SHELLY
OPERATION TANDEM BIKE
I step out of my car, armed with a steaming takeaway cup and an outfit designed to kill. I ordered a pair of leather pants and a pink leopard-print blouse online nearly a month ago, and they finally arrived yesterday.
Worth. The. Wait.
I’m not going to lie—I feel damn cute in it. And feeling cute equals confidence when I’m not sure if this plan is going to work.
As always, Luke is elbow-deep in the engine of someone’s car, his back to me, grunge-pop music blaring through the speakers so he doesn’t hear me come in. Which, of course, gives me the opportunity to compose myself before the great manipulation of 2026.
The song ends, and my three-inch boots clack against the concrete floor, alerting Luke to my presence. He turns and grins.
“Hey, Shelly. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
He grabs a rag from the back pocket of his blue jeans and wipes his hands. There’s a smear of grease under his left eye like war paint, and it gives me the perfect opportunity to initiate Operation: Get Mystery Man and Dannica on a Tandem Bike So They Can Fall in Love.
Okay, the name needs some work.
I hold out the takeaway cup. “Here. Double caramel latte. Just the way you like it.”
He frowns and reaches out for the cup, but there’s a little bit of hesitation there. Is he suspicious of me? Okay, he should be because I do have an ulterior motive, but still, what does he usually think of me if basic kindness is throwing him off?
I mean, I’m friendly. I was raised to be polite and courteous. I’m not a bitch.
Have I been aloof? Has what happened with Darren made me that wary that I’m giving off the wrong vibes with any guy now? Even someone as sweet as Luke?
The thought brings back a snippet of conversation I’d rather not give the time of day right now, and I feel myself hesitate for half a second before I forcibly shake it off. Never mind. Focus.
I glance around the shop, dragging my attention away from him. It’s surprisingly neat for a place where oil and grease are basically part of the décor.
“Nice place you’ve got here.”
Wow. Riveting, Shelly. Truly Oscar-worthy small talk. Good thing I didn’t come in here with a plan to flirt my way to getting what I want.
Although, the thought had crossed my mind. But Luke is too sweet to be messed with like that, and if I’m honest, I’m so gun-shy now that I can’t ever see myself flirting ever again. Me and men do not have a great track record.
“Uh… thanks.”
He looks around like he’s seeing it for the first time. The flicker of pride on his face gives me the warm fuzzies.
He looks back at me. “So, what can I help you with today, Shelly? I feel like I should be earning this latte.”
Right. Time to execute the plan.
“Do you only service vehicles with engines?”
He blinks.
I blink.
There’s a split second where my brain catches up with my mouth, replaying the sentence in real time, word by word, like it might somehow improve on a second pass.
It does not. Crap!
“As in fix. Work on. You know.”
“Oh… uh… yeah. Mostly. Why do you ask?”
Abort eye contact.
I walk over to the car and lean in like I know what I’m doing, committing fully to the performance because backing out now would be worse, and I do not back out of things.
I don’t. I also know absolutely nothing about engines.
I once nearly blew up my apartment trying to attach a plug to a lamp.
Still, this is better than looking him in the eye while I lie.
“This is where you earn your coffee,” I say. “Promise you won’t judge?”
I glance up because, surprisingly, batting my eyelashes at spark plugs like a damsel in distress is not helping, and also possibly sending the wrong message entirely.
He makes a cross over his heart and grins. “Promise.”
Oh, that was too easy. That should concern me.
“I’ve always wanted a tandem bike,” I say. “Which is inconvenient, because I currently have two separate bikes. I was wondering if you could… combine them?”
There’s a split second of silence where even I hear how that sounds. God, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said out loud. Why didn’t anyone stop me? Oh right, Quadri tried.
Well, I’m committed now. There’s no way I’m letting her I-told-you-so me.
Luke takes a sip of his latte. “Yeah, I should be able to do that.”
Oh.
“Oh my gosh, you are the best!”
The relief hits first, fast and bright, before my brain has a chance to catch up.
Before he can change his mind, I rush to my car, pop the trunk, and grab the first bike. Except the pedal is tangled in the spokes of the second one, so both bikes come out at once, half in, half out, stubborn and uncooperative like they’ve decided to make a point.
Brilliant.
“Here, let me help you,” Luke says.
I smile sweetly and hold up a hand. “No, I’ve got it. You know, Luke, it’s rather regressive to assume a woman always needs a man’s help. I’m a perfectly capable, independent woman.”
Yeah, this pretty much contradicts everything up to this point. I guess I didn’t think my plan through as much as I thought.
I heave the bike.
And immediately regret it and any other decision that led me to this moment. The pedal suddenly gives and the bike launches forward, nearly taking me with it, the sudden shift yanking me off balance before I can correct.
I stumble back, my heel catching on something slippery.
A leaf.
A single, traitorous leaf.
Goddamn it.
And suddenly I’m skidding, everywhere.
I swear it takes three-to-five business days for me to stop sliding before I land squarely on my ass.
The impact rattles up my spine, knocking the air out of me for half a second as I just… sit there, processing both the pain and the sheer betrayal of the situation.
I look up at Luke, who is trying hard not to laugh, his mouth twitching like it’s physically painful for him to hold it in.
“Uh, a little help would’ve been nice, Luke.”
“My apologies,” he says. “Didn’t want to interfere with your independence. Wouldn’t want to be regressive.”
I narrow my eyes. Then remember I need him. I need to work on my priorities.
I plaster on a smile. “Karma, I guess. Would you mind helping me up?”
He sets down his coffee and offers his hand. Taking it, I dig my heels in, and he pulls me up in one smooth motion that makes me feel slightly less like a complete disaster.
Slightly.
I brush myself off and grin. “Thanks, Luke. You’re the best.”
Right. Time to leave before I die of embarrassment. I grab the second bike—much more carefully this time—and place it beside the first. This plan better work. I might need my coccyx checked.
“I should get going,” I say. “If I could have it by Sunday morning, that would be amazing.”
Before I can overthink it, or stop myself, I boop his nose. I can’t believe I booped a grown man’s nose. I need to act like that never happened. I seem to be good at that these days. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”
He looks mildly stunned as I jump into my car like I’ve just committed a crime and peel out of there before my dignity can suffer any further damage.
I’m halfway home when my phone rings through the car speakers. It’s Dad.
I smile and hit answer. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetheart. Happy birthday. Sorry I’m late, I had to take Mom to buy more yarn for her Save the Rhino project.”
My stomach sinks. The last time Mom crocheted a blanket for the baby rhinos in Africa was three years ago. And it’s not my birthday. My birthday was in January. I’m stumped, but then I remember the neurologist said to just go along with it so as not to upset him. “Thanks, Dad.”
For a few seconds all I hear is the sound of his indicator clicking in the background.
“You still coming for dinner tonight?” he asks.
I frown. “Tomorrow night, Dad.”
There’s a pause.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Another pause but longer this time.
“Right. Tomorrow.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, an uncomfortable sensation settling in my chest.
“You okay?” I know he’s not okay, but I torture myself anyway.
“Of course,” he says. “I’m retired. Being okay is basically my full-time job.”
I laugh despite myself.
We chat for a few more minutes about nothing important.
The weather. The neighbor’s dog. Whether Aunt Susan is still trying to convince everyone that air fryers can replace ovens.
It’s all the mundane things he remembers.
It makes it that much harder when he doesn’t remember the important stuff, but I know it isn’t his fault.
Dad has always been forgetful. Mom used to say he would lose his own head if it wasn’t attached. But it’s different when it comes with a diagnosis. It’s different when I know I’m going to lose my hero piece by piece until he’s gone.
I pull into my driveway and sit for a moment, staring through the windscreen. Nope. I’m not going down that road today.
Today I have two bicycles, an unsuspecting photographer, and a matchmaking plan that is either brilliant or evidence that I’ve finally lost my mind.
Honestly, both options seem equally likely.
Have I just destroyed two perfectly good bikes without a solid plan?
Yes. Yes, I have.
I pace my living room, arms folding, unfolding, then folding again like that’s going to magically improve my decision-making skills. Outside, the wind rattles the windows, and I consider the possibility that I’ve finally lost my mind.
How exactly am I supposed to get Dannica and Mystery Man onto a tandem bike?
It’s not like you can just walk up to a stranger and say, Hey, want to ride a bike with my best friend and fall in love?
I pace some more. Think some more. Pace again.
What if he can’t even ride a bike?
God. I didn’t even consider that.
My gaze catches on a photo sitting on the shelf—me, Dannica, Mary, and Quadri. We’re all squished together, laughing, slightly sunburnt, probably mid-argument about something completely ridiculous.
Dannica’s smiling like she doesn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders. That’s the version of her I want back.
Which means I need to stop pacing and think.
I stop pacing.
Think.
Festival.
Camera.
Photos.
Oh.
Oh.
I think again. Pace. Think harder.