AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You do realize you’re an adult and you can make your own decisions?”
“Decisions come with the risk of consequences,” I echo back.
“Or with the risk of happiness,” he counters. “Just look at you and me.”
“True. You were a great decision.” I smile. “Anyhow, it should be a short visit. They’re planning to head south afterwards to go on vacation.”
“Sounds exotic.”
“Maybe.” I slide a blue book onto the shelf. “So, what time is your flight tomorrow?” I ask, referring to his family trip to Georgia to visit his sister, Camille.
She recently had a baby, and they’re all going down to meet the new arrival.
“Around two. I’m meeting up with my parents, and we’re all going to the airport together.”
“You must be excited to see your nephew.”
“I am. And Camille. I told her about you.”
“I hope it was all horrible and nasty stuff.”
“Absolutely. Nothing but the truth.” He scratches the side of his head. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her one day.”
“That would be nice.”
Grabbing the second to last book, I exit the aisle and enter into another row, on the opposite side of where Foster still remains.
“How many days will you be gone again?” I ask through the empty space over the lined up volumes on the shelf.
“Just a few,” he answers. “I was planning to be back for your show at the end of the week.”
“Well, that’s still up in the air.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it happen,” he says encouragingly. Foster peeks through the shelves. “Do you have any idea what you’re going to do yet?”
“No,” I grumble. “I’m still waiting for that miraculous moment of inspiration that’s supposed to come to all artists.”
“You’re waiting for a miracle?”
“Is that too much to ask?”
Foster walks down to the end of the row, rounds the tall stack, and joins me where I shove the final volume away.
“You know,” Foster says like he’s beginning a lesson plan, “scientists believe there’s an explanation for everything, and miracles are simply a myth. People just need to know where to look.”
“Is that right?” I mock. “Then, tell me where to look. I’m open to suggestions.”
“You’re grouchy,” he teases, sliding his palm around my waist. “Maybe what you really need is a healthy dose of oxytocin.”
“Of what?”
“It’s a pleasure chemical.”
“You know I love it when you talk nerdy to me,” I jest at his playfulness. “Forget dirty wordsmithery. Science is where it’s at.”
“Is that so?”
I nod.
