Page 88 of Love Felt Like This

“I know you,” I counter.

Ava’s giggles bubble out of her.

“You look worse than the last time I saw you, Griffy,” Bernie says.

My mouth opens in a gasping laugh, and I glance at Beverly. “Why’s he so mean, B?”

“Well, I can’t control what he says,” she answers in a normal yet offended voice. Bernie’s feathery head bounces, nodding in agreement.

I twist my lips to the side.

Ava is cackling with laughter now. It’s too precious. I wish I could make her laugh even half this often. But Beverly is a professional, and Bernie Bird…is Bernie. He’s a laugh magician, but Beverly carries the magic touch.

“You’re good,” I say.

“Me?” Bernie Bird asks.

“This.” I gesture to the puppet now opening its mouth and closing it like he’s at a loss for words. I roll my eyes with a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

Beverly pauses. I snort when Bernie’s beak slams shut as well.

“You wanna help?” Beverly asks in her normal voice.

“What?”

“You wanna be my right hand?” she asks.

“Your what?” I ask.

Beverly slowly grins, like the joy is radiating through her.

“Come here,” she says.

My gut clenches. The little Come here shouldn’t make my stomach drop the way it does.

When I hesitate, she rolls her eyes with a laugh. “C’mon, Griffin.”

I creak across the hardwood. Ava’s eyes are wide as she watches me pause next to Beverly with my arms crossed.

“Sit down here,” Beverly instructs. “I won’t bite. Though Bernie might.” On cue, his felt beak snaps.

I chuckle and lower to a crouch.

“Sit all the way down,” Beverly says again with a tiny hiss.

I finally do, with my legs stretched out beside her. Beverly removes her hand from Bernie’s arm and unhooks a small safety pin in Bernie’s other wing, releasing it from its resting position against his tummy.

“Now, you’ll put your hand through his right wing while I put mine back through the left one, all right?”

“All right…” I reach for it, but it’s awkward and I’m stretching to find my place inside.

“You gotta sit closer for it to work,” she instructs.

I clear my throat, sliding until her thigh is against mine.

“Now, lean in a bit,” she says. My stomach clenches as I tuck my arm through the other hand of Bernie Bird. Beverly pushes off with the heels of her feet and scoots even closer.

My face grows hot. “What are you—”