Page 49 of Love Felt Like This

Beverly sits straighter and sets her coffee to the side. “Hang on, I think I have a friend here who can help…Give me a second…” She looks around the table, like a mechanic searching for parts. Finally, she snags a set of wrapped utensils, shakes them out, and drapes the napkin over her hand.

What the…

I can see the gears in her head churning for half a second before—ah!—she removes her hair tie.

My gaze snags on her hair cascading down in a wispy mess. I thought I liked it when she put it up, but it’s almost better when she lets it down.

“Listen, I know I need to brush my hair, okay?” Beverly teases.

I blink, remembering where the hell I am and who I’m gawking at.

I’m not romantically attracted to Beverly Lark. I just need to create music for her show. But I can admire nice hair and a beautiful neck any day. She doesn’t need to brush her hair at all. The messier, the better. But I don’t say that.

Instead, I watch as she rolls the hair tie down to her wrist and secures the napkin. She tucks the excess between her four fingers and thumb, then drops the thumb down, like a jaw opening in the mouth of the new creature.

A puppet.

In a lower, casual voice, Beverly says, “Oh, hello there.”

I shake my head in disbelief. The way the napkin instantly came to life is astounding.

“Uncanny,” I murmur.

Beverly makes the napkin say, “Quite.”

Ava’s eyes lock on to Beverly’s hand too. Her cries have stopped.

“Ava, have you met my friend, Dr. Napkin?” Beverly asks in her normal voice.

Ava slowly shakes her head side to side, squeezing her fists tighter, then releasing.

Beverly drops her thumb once more, making Dr. Napkin announce, “Pleasure to meet you, Ava.”

Ava’s eyes go as wide as those silver dollar pancakes. Her eyes look to me, then back to Dr. Napkin.

“I’m starving,” Dr. Napkin continues. “Think you can share some of your delicious breakfast with me?”

Ava stares at her plate, side-eyeing me again.

I rub my thumb over her shoulder. “Go on.”

Cautiously, she picks up a scrap of pancake and tosses it toward Beverly’s hand. It’s almost like she’s feeding a pigeon and anticipating its peck. So, of course, Beverly does the only reasonable thing: She darts her hand down, making Dr. Napkin absolutely devour the piece, accompanied by as many obnoxious eating noises as possible, before tossing the scrap to the side and out of sight.

Ava gives an anxious giggle.

“Yum. Might I have another?” Dr. Napkin asks, poised and calm, as if he hadn’t just transformed into a pancake-eating monster.

A little faster this time, Ava tosses a piece of pancake her way. Beverly is quicker, too, nearly nipping Ava’s fingers as Dr. Napkin growls and chomps and gnaws.

Ava descends into a fit of laughter. There are knocks against the bottom of the booth seat as her swinging legs kick the wood.

Unprompted, Ava throws another scrap of dry pancake. Beverly darts for it, capturing Ava’s tiny fingers in Dr. Napkin’s mouth along the way. Ava’s laughter convulses through a beaming open-mouthed grin that I can’t hold back either.

“Now, d’ya think you want to try some too?” Beverly asks her.

Ava hesitantly picks up a pancake, clutching both sides in a grip that almost tears it. She peers at me. I nod. Slowly, she tucks the edge of the pancake into her mouth. When she bites, I help tug the floppy remains so that it rips apart. She chews slowly, occasionally glancing up at me again, as if waiting for approval.

“Good?” I ask her.