“Okay, I know your mom didn’t say all that.”
Leaning closer, I grabbed hold of his side, rubbing his rock-hard obliques. “She’s not so silently rooting for the hometown boy.”
“My mother has similar thoughts about you.”
“Glad to hear someone in the Birch clan is pulling for me.”
“My dad and Cy like you too.” He said as if Dial hating me was just common practice … like breathing.
“How have things been with you and Dial?”
“We’re giving one another a wide berth.”
“You can’t avoid her forever.”
“I’m not avoiding her. I see her every day at work. I’m just not entertaining conversations about my personal life. I’m keeping it strictly professional.”
“With your sister?”
Edison shrugged. “Dial and I have fallen out before and we always make amends … eventually.”
“I really want us to fix this.” My face brightened and I grabbed the Scrabble box. “What about a game night?”
“No.”
“What, why not? Games, snacks, music.”
“Sure, we’ll just play Battleship and whoever’s fleet gets sunk has to apologize.”
“I mean—” I hopped a shoulder.
“No.”
“I want to help.”
“You help by staying out of it. I set clear boundaries with Dial, and she needs to respect them.”
“Okay,” I said before chucking Battleship into the cart, just in case he changed his mind.
Driving at night with Edison was peaceful because at night he preferred jazz or instrumentals, and his playlist was the perfect backdrop to the town whizzing by. I believed every human was allocated a certain number of perfect moments. And whatthat looked like was different for every individual. For me this drive home, with the stars puncturing the sky, the windows rolled down as a gentle breeze whispered through my curls, and Edison’s hand absentmindedly stroking my thigh, was a perfect moment I’d recall in my final minutes on this earth.
I interrupted the serene silence after passing a billboard advertising Hume’s upcoming fair. “I’ve been seeing flyers for Hume’s festival.”
“Yep, The Sweet Summer Jubilee is still going strong.”
“When I was a kid that was my favorite thing about summer. Well, that and not having to go to school.”
“And it’s gotten bigger since you’ve left. If you can believe it.”
“Is Ms. Irma still winning the cornbread cook off?”
Edison’s face lit up. “Actually, Janette from high school is now the reigning cornbread queen.”
“Shut up, I thought Ms. Irma would die wearing the crown.”
“Janette uses a cold-water recipe, so her bread looks more like pancakes, but the taste is out of this world. She earned the fuck out of that title.”
“Can’t wait to try them.”
