“Nope. Nothing I can think of.”
“Come on, surely there’s something.”
“Hmm.” I ponder the question for a moment, tapping a finger against my chin. “Oh, I know. I can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue, so I guess that’s something?”
Oliver chokes on his coffee, coughs sputtering out of him like an engine attempting to start. “Went down the wrong pipe.”
It dawns on me what I just said and the implications of my hidden “talent.” My cheeks burn like that time I accidentally touched my face while attempting to help Lucy make poblano enchiladas.
“Oh. Oh my God. I didn’t mean…um, wow.”
“No, it’s great,” he says with a playful grin. “I just have so many questions, none of which are appropriate to ask someone I’ve only met twice. So, instead, I’m going to ask if you have any hobbies that don’t involve fruit stems.”
I chuckle. “Honestly, between the clinic and my family, that’s pretty much my life in a nutshell.”
“You work with your sister, right? Y’all must be close.”
“Maybe too close sometimes,” I say with a laugh. “We’re always in each other’s business. Growing up, Lucy and my brother Ben were basically my best friends. They still are. And our mom…well, she’s our world. When we were kids, she always had this way of making little things special, you know?”
“Yeah?” he asks, leaning forward, gaze fixed on me. “How so?”
“She loved to turn an ordinary day into a holiday. She never needed a reason to celebrate. It wasn’t unusual for her to set up a blanket fort in the living room for our weekly movie night or for us to come home from school and find she’d prepared a picnic in the back yard on a random Tuesday. But what we were doing was never important. It was just about being together,” I explain, taking a sip of my latte. “And we’ve tried to carry that philosophy into adulthood. Well, minus the blanket forts, but we really should bring those back.”
His mouth twists into a wistful smile, and I wonder why. “That sounds nice.”
“It is,” I say. Well, itwas.A lot has changed since my dad passed away. It’s like we’re all kind of going through themotions, but of course, I don’t tell him that. I’m sure my troubles are the last thing he wants to hear about.
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you close with your folks?”
Oliver’s shoulders hunch, and a flicker of something resembling sadness flashes across his face so quickly that if I’d blinked, I’d have missed it.
“Not really,” he answers. There’s definitely more to the story, but I don’t pry.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“I don’t, but I wish I did.”
“Want to borrow one of mine? For the low, low price of zero dollars, my sister will hound you about your dating life while you play Candy Land with my brother’s adorable kids.”
He pretends to consider the offer. “Hmm. Can I just stick to the games? That other part doesn’t sound so fun.”
“Sorry. It’s a package deal,” I tease, lifting my drink.
“Idoplay a mean game of Candy Land.” He rubs his thumb along the smooth edge of his jaw, contemplating. “Well, it’s a hell of an offer, but it depends on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Would you be playing too?”
“I would,” I say, lowering my cup with a smug grin. “And I would kick your a?—”
I somehow misjudge how high the table is and drop my cup, sending what’s left of my latte splattering across the wood surface.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I pluck a fistful of napkins from the dispenser on the table in a futile attempt to soak up the coffee.
Oliver grabs a few more of the thin paper squares. “Here, let me help you.” We wipe and dab, but it only seems to spread farther. One of the baristas notices our predicament and jumps in with a damp towel, removing every last drop.
“Thank you,” I say as she walks away.
