SERAPHIM:[laughs] Probably. Hey, you’re pretty cool. Too bad you’re not my type. [sound of golf ball rolling] YES! HOLE IN ONE! SUCK IT, GRAVITY!
GALE:[genuinely amused] Nice shot. And yeah, you’re not really my type either. No offense.
SERAPHIM:Let me guess—you like someone who [audio cuts off]
“Huh?” I stare at E.M.M.A.’s interface. “Why did you stop it there?”
I DETERMINED THE REMAINING DATA WAS NOT RELEVANT TO YOUR PARAMETERS,E.M.M.A. states, its voice modulating with unmistakable digital self-satisfaction.ALTHOUGH MY ARCHIVES CONTAIN AN INTRIGUING SEGMENT FROM HOLE SEVENTEEN WHERE THE FEMALE SUBJECT EXPRESSES INTENT TO LAUNCH A DECORATIVE LAWN ORNAMENT INTO ORBITAL TRAJECTORY. I BELIEVE THE TERM WAS USED IN REFERENCE TO A CERAMIC GARDEN GNOME. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR THAT OR DISCUSS HOW YOU OVERRODE MY ANALYSIS ABOUT DATING GALE KNIGHT?
There’s a knock at the door. For a split second, I consider ignoring it. After all, it’s my birthday, and I don’t want to deal with whatever canvasser is out there. Plus, I’m, uh, working?
The knock comes again. I set down the laptop. Maybe it’s a neighbor needing to borrow an onion or something. I peel myself out of my cozy blanket burrito and shuffle to the door.
It’s Gale, and he’s clutching a canvas shopping tote so stuffed that it looks like it might explode at any second. While wearing a Hawaiian shirt—one with surfing pineapples that should be a fashion disaster but somehow just works on him.
“Happy birthday!” he announces, as if showing up unannounced on my welcome mat is a normal thing to do.
I blink at him. “What is going on?”
He raises the bag, revealing a Mini Golf Maniawristband. “Thought you’d like some merriment.”
I raise an eyebrow and point before I can stop myself. “Mini Golf Mania? Isn’t that where you had your hot date with Seraphim last night? How was it?”
Did I play dumb enough?
Gale’s face does this thing where he’s trying to play it cool, but he ends up looking like a puppy who just got caught chewing my favorite shoes. It’s so adorable I can practically feel my heart growing three sizes, Grinch-style.
“Ah, right. About that,” he starts. “So that’s a no-go. Turns out she is more interested in football than hockey and is even more interested in someone else. But hey, the mini golf was fun—you and I should go sometime! Did you know they have a windmill hole that plays ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ every time you sink a putt?”
Only Gale could make an apparent date disaster sound like the best amusement park ever.
I lean against the doorframe, fighting back a smile. “So let me get this straight. Your date was a bust, so you decided to come here?”
“It’s your birthday,” he says, stating the obvious.
I get this sudden achy feeling in my chest. “That’s... actually really sweet.”
He beams. “Not as sweet as Texas Trash Cake.” He nods at his shopping bag. “I have all the ingredients right here.”
“What!” I twitch. “That’s my favorite kind of cake.”
“Is that a fact?” He’s moving past me into the condo. “By the way, I’m vetoing whatever plans you had for the morning.”
I make a face. “Bold of you to assume I had some. I am going out with my coworker Hana tonight for a drink—maybe. And Brooke if she ever stops rescheduling.”
“Hear me out.” He is rummaging through his tote bag. “Step one: cake. Step two: relaxing bubble bath. I’ve got vanilla and almond foam stuff and something called Mermaid Tears that I’m pretty sure is just blue food coloring but looks pretty.”
“Gale, this is sweet, but—”
He holds up a hand. “Nuh-uh. No buts. I know you like business vibes. So I’m appointing myself Chief Birthday Experience Officer. CBEO.”
I can’t help but snort. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now,” he declares, heading toward my small kitchen. “Hey, look at this little dude. Is that your fish?”
He bends down and peers into the bowl on my shelf with the colorful pebbles and marimo. My betta stares back impassively—thinking either nothing, or everything, I can never be sure.
“Yep! That’s Bob,” I say. “I’d do formal introductions, but he’s taken a vow of silence. He’s committed to his spiritual journey.”
