I’m still shaky when I squeeze myself back into her car out front.Thank God my truck’s finally fixed; the legend who runs the auto body shop is going to drop it back this afternoon.
Chloe clicks on her seatbelt.The grin hasn’t left her face.“This calls for ice cream.”
I glance at the clock on the dash.“Ice cream?At ten in the morning?”
“Time is irrelevant when you receive wonderful news.Plus, you know ice cream’s better in the morning, right?”She reaches across the console to squeeze my thigh.
She hums all the way to the ice cream shop, her window rolled down, her golden hair flying in the wind.It takes physical effort not to stare at her.
Right now, all I want to do is freeze this moment.Not just the relief about her health, but the part where it’s just us, cruising down a sandy beachfront road, going for ice cream at an absurd time of day.
“So, you gonna call your parents?”I ask as we look for a parking spot near the corner store selling beach chairs and umbrellas.“Tell them the good news?”
Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel for half a second.Then she shrugs.“Nah.There’s no point.”
Wow, okay.I tell my parents everything.My mom still sends me weather alerts, like I don’t have three apps tracking storms.I can’t imagine not wanting them in the loop about something as important as this.
Is Chloe afraid that they’ll worry?
Or that they won’t care enough?
Having had the displeasure of meeting Rick, I have a sinking feeling it’s the latter.
“I should call the girls, though,” she says while backing into a tight spot, her bracelets clinking against the headrest as she grabs the back of my seat.“They wanted to come with me today, but I figured you deserved the anxiety.”
“That’s not funny.”
She laughs.“You were very brave in the waiting room.”
“I paced.And sweated.”
Her smile widens, but my thoughts land with a thud.Chloe technically didn’t ask me to come with her today, but I ended up there, and she seems pretty happy about it.Soon, though, I won’t be able to drop everything and go with her to scary appointments.I’ll be back in the city, back at work.No more matchbox car.No more spontaneous ice cream.No more of her hand finding mine without looking.
Stop thinking about this.
You heard Chloe say it—you’re just casual.There’s no point wondering what could be when you can’t change what is.
The ice creamshop bell jingles when we walk in, the air conditioning hitting my face like a welcome slap.Two servers stand behind the counter wearing upside-down ice cream hats.
Chloe greets both of them by name and orders a butterscotch cone.“And a rocky road for my friend over here,” she adds, fishing through her purse.
I pull out my wallet and smack my card on the counter before she can pay.“How’d you know I like rocky road?”
“Because you like to pretend you’re a big tough-guy who drinks concrete for breakfast, but you buy marshmallow cereal with a cute little elf on the front.”
“It’s not an elf.It’s a leprechaun.”
“Oh, you know that, huh?”Her brows are high, her voice teasing.
I shoot her a scowl, even though what I really want to do is kiss the smug look off her gorgeous face.
One of the teenage servers meanders past, accidentally knocking over a huge stack of square napkins that’d been leaning against the soda machine.Chloe immediately hands me her purse.
“I’ve got it, Toby,” she says, crouching to gather them all up.
My eyes flick to the teen, who stands there, dead-still, like the one-eyed sculpture outside Grandma’s Crabs.
“Chloe,” I say, but she’s already nearly done.She comes back up, balancing the stacked napkins between her palms.
