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Krystal gave a sidelong glance toward the brownies on the stove and leaned on the counter.
She was still hesitant.
I opened the freezer and grabbed the vanilla ice cream I knew would be sitting on the top shelf. I shook it back and forth and watched Krystal’s expression transform into a smile. “You know you want to,” I cajoled.
“You’re right, I do.” She stood. “Fine. But just a small one.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, saluting with my right hand.
I cut a brownie–not a small one–and handed it to her with a huge scoop of ice cream.
“What is this?”
I shrugged. “You know I was never a Boy Scout.”
She laughed but took the bowl and found herself a spoon. She knew exactly where to find it. Like she never left.
I brought Mom and Dad a serving, too, and then sat back at the table.
“Thanks for letting me crash your family dinner,” Krystal said. “This is wonderful.”
“You’re always welcome, Krystal.” Dad was a man of few words, so I knew he meant it.
Mom nodded. “Phil is right. I know things were a little…strained after you left town. But the two of you were such good friends. And that never really goes away.”
I looked at Krystal and watched her savor the last bite of her brownie sundae. Mom was right. Our friendship had never really disappeared. And it didn’t have to be more than friendship. She was leaving again. And this time, I knew it was coming. I could prepare.
I knew I couldn’t convince her to stay.
Maybe if things were different…
I shook my head to clear the fantasy.
“Well, Krys. Should we clean up and then get to work? We can go to the bistro and have coffee or something while we finalize the designs?”
“Sounds good. Why don’t you grab these plates, and I’ll get started in the kitchen?”
Mom protested. “Oh no, you two don’t have to do the cleanup. Just go. Do your project. Enjoy your time together.”
