Page 170 of Love Felt Like This

No new texts. No new calls. Just the same ones from yesterday.

Beverly: Bernie won’t shut up about you.

I smiled too much when I responded:

Griffin: Only good things, right?

Hours later:

Beverly: He only repeats what he hears.

And hours after that:

Griffin: Poor guy doesn’t have a mind of his own.

I haven’t heard back since.

She’s busy. I know that. Hell, I’m busy.

We start recording today, we go on tour in a month, and we all have the media mess to deal with too.

And after all the times I distracted her, I’m sure she’s drowning in the blue light of her laptop.

Beverly is simply working.

Just like I am.

Because we’re both married to our jobs.

Poe leans against a wall, kicking one ankle over the other.

“How’s she doing?” he asks.

I sigh, looking over at Ava, who’s currently reaching up toward Dom in hopes of stealing a cheese slice.

“Ava seems good,” I answer.

“No, no. The puppet girl.”

I shift on the couch uncomfortably, flexing my hands over its arms, then letting them fall flat. Poe gives me a toothy grin.

“Beverly’s good,” I answer. I open my mouth to say more, but I’m interrupted by Jimmy pacing down the hallway yelling, “Well, can you tell him he’s a sack of shit, then?!”

In the kitchen, Dom’s eyes widen, reaching down to belatedly cover Ava’s ears.

Poe clicks his tongue. “Y’know…” He perches on the armchair next to me. “I’ve been reading a lot of history lately.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And there were tons of passionate love affairs that overcame the odds. Antony and Cleopatra. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Classic.”

“Yeah, and how’d those end?”

“Oh. Well, uh, eventually…tragically.”

“Great.”

Jimmy reappears in the living room, now off the phone. He paces over the hardwood in clacking shoes before halting in front of us.