Page 90 of Love Felt Like This

“Why not?”

“Music awards?” She gives a choked laugh. “Come on, I don’t belong there.”

I furrow my brow. I wonder if Beau told her that once. Or maybe it’s not about Beau at all. Maybe she doesn’t want to go with me.

She twists her lips to the side. “Can I think on it?”

“Of course.”

Beverly looks to the floor, the wall, and taps her boot on the ground. Then, in what might be an attempt to lighten the awkward situation, she holds up a floppy pancake.

“Pancake?” she offers. I grin and bend down, biting it in half as she holds it, leaving the remaining piece still in her hand.

Her face turns from pink to deep red. She laughs it off.

Being around Beverly definitely feels like getting away with something.

Chapter Sixteen

A Middle-of-Nowhere Five

Beverly

“Thanks for not losing my number.”

“It was a close one this time,” Finch says. “But I figured, eh, what’s one last call?”

“Famous last words before I show up outside your window.”

We both laugh. I’ve missed our bits.

It’s midday, and I’m sitting with my knees up to my chin in the living room. A rerun of Birds on the Block is paused on the TV mounted over the fireplace, and the coffee table overflows with sewing needles, thread, scissors, and felt. When Finch called, my phone was partially covered by my in-progress puppet. It took me a few seconds of rustling to excavate the vibrations.

“How’s retirement?” I ask, putting him on speaker and leaning the phone against my mug of coffee.

“Turns out, I’m still bad at Jeopardy!”

I laugh. “Oh no.”

“I really thought I’d built some skills over the years.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m older and wiser. Isn’t that good enough?”

I smile as I poke a needle through fabric. “I guess that counts for something.”

He hums to himself, and it’s almost hesitant. “So…how are things with you? How’s pitch prep? Can I help with anything?”

I exhale, pushing through the fabric again—though this time, it’s more of a violent stab. “Just trying to get it all done. I’ve got a handle on a lot of it, but…I’m still feeling rushed.”

“Is Griffin Harvey helping? Alice says you’re living together.”

My cheeks heat. “I’m not living with him. He’s in Nana and Grandpa’s old place out back.”

“Ehh.”

“Don’t ehh me,” I counter with a laugh. “It’s not the same thing. We’re fine. We’re getting along.”