“Trust me. It’s not safe for you to stay home alone tonight.”
“It’s not?”
“Yeah, no.” I shake my head vigorously as I take off my baker’s hat and stick it on the hook. “You know that, just like Thanksgiving and Christmas, Valentine’s Day is a likely holiday to be hit up by some sleazy ex? Your phone will be going off all night.”
“Oh no. You think?” Sora looks worried.
“Oh, I’msure.Starting at ten, you’ll be getting ‘U up?’ Maybe even…” I lower my voice and glance around the store as if worried one of her exes might jump out from the cereal aisle. “Dick pics.”
“Ugh.” Sora wrinkles her nose. “Not those.”
“I know. If you want, I can respond to them. I don’t mind.” I wouldloveto tell them what they can do with those X-rated pictures.
She laughs. “Are you going to undermine their self-esteem?”
“Absolutely.” I grab my coat from a hook near the bakery and put it on, slapping a wool cap on my head.
“So you’re just going to make my exes feel badly about themselves. That’s your only motive?” She laughs as she follows me down the bakery aisle.
“Of course.” I pretend to be affronted. “Why else would I want you with me all night?”
“I could think of one or two things. Also, they mightnotinvolve clothes.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “That is no way to try to keep your Solo February vow.”
“I know. I’ve never been good with willpower.”
“Well, Allie will keep usbothin line, anyway. Also, so you know, she will insist on painting your nails. It’s a rite of passage. Be prepared.”
Fifteen
SORA
The best thing you can do on Valentine’s Day is stay home. Don’t let the commercial love machine win.
—SOLO FEBRUARY CHALLENGE
We stand on his brother’s porch in front of a tiny bungalow in Evanston, the suburb just north of Chicago where Jack and I went to grade school, patiently waiting for the door to open. Our breath comes out in big puffs, and I am oddly nervous to meet more of Jack’s people. Maybe he senses this, because Jack reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it, and I feel a little ripple of goosebumps run up my arm and they have nothing to do with the chilly February night and everything to do with his big, strong hand holding mine. Instantly, I feel calmer. Icicles hang above the small porch, and someone—I’m assuming Allie—has built a little snowman in the tiny yard and dressed it in a pink hat and matching mittens on its little stick hands.
Okay, so me helping Jack Mann babysit his adorable niece surely doesn’t violate Solo February, as there’s technically a little girl involved. An adorable, precious little girl who flings open the door and squeals as she claps her tiny, tiny hands.
“Uncle Jack!” she cries, jumping into his arms and squeezing his neck for all she’s worth. It’s so damn sweet, I nearly get a cavity. She glances over at me, big doe eyes assessing, her pink sequined bows pinning her pigtails adorably in place catching the foyer light.
“I’m Allie!” she says. “My teacher says I can’t shake hands because of germs, but we can do elbow bumps!” She offers up her adorable elbow and I tap it with my own.
Uncle Jack laughs. “Good call,” he says. “Allie, this is Sora.”
“Hey, Allie.” I elbow-bump her, noticing she’s wearing a stack of about fifteen glittery rubber bracelets, some glittery lip gloss, and shoes that light up pink and purple every time she moves. “I love your shoes!”
“Thank you,” she says, and then blinks up at me. “So is Uncle Jack yourboyfriend?” she says in the blunt way only young children and old people can get away with.
“Well, uh…” I don’t know how to answer that.
“Sora pleads the fifth,” Jack says easily. “Come on, Allie, where’s your dad?” he says as he carries her inside. I follow.
“Hey, Sora.” It’s his doctor brother, Ian, who’s shrugging into a blazer in the foyer, and looking less disheveled than when I last saw him in the ER, unshaven and in his scrubs. “How’s that ankle?”
“Doing just fine,” I say. “Thanks to your fine care.”
