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Yael
Alex insisted on drivingus to the wedding despite my protests and misgivings. I’d been picturing a driver with a spacious SUV acting as a buffer between us, but no. We were side by side in his totes adorbs little blue Tesla, speeding out of the city and into the wilderness.
He let me choose the music and didn’t press me to talk, which was good, since I wasn’t in the mood. I’d been grumpy since my brother jumped all over me about this entire escapade. It didn’t help that I'd soon be face to face withtheex and all our unfinished business.
Some sense of closure was the most I could hope for. Even if Harris and I didn’t have any kind of big talk, seeing him having moved on with someone else would release me from that period of my life.
A girl could hope.
I took my latest project from the tote bag I’d tucked by my feet, curling toward the door to work on it.
“What’s that you have, Boo?” Alex asked, his eyes sliding to the metal wire in my hands.
“Just something I’m working on.”
“A bomb?”
“Yep. I haven’t decided who it’s for yet, so mind your p’s and q’s.”
He laid a hand over his heart. “I always do.”
I sniffed, my attention reverting to the wire I wove through the spiral I’d created. “Oh sure.”
“Do you know where that saying comes from?” he asked.
“I haven’t the nariest.”
“Nariest? Is that even a word?”
Sighing, I folded my hands in my lap. “Weren’t you about to tell me something fascinating?”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s right, I was. So, back in the olden days of yore, when printing presses had to be set with each individual letter, they had to be extra careful to not mix up the lowercase p’s and q’s. Which reminds me, do you know the origin of lowercase and uppercase?”
“I knew you agreed to this weekend so you could murder me,” I replied.
He chuckled. “What?”
I flicked my fingers at him. “Clearly you’re trying to bore me to death.”
“Cruel, cruel little witch. I’m making polite conversation and you accuse me of murder. I don’t think your friends are going to believe we’re a couple. Not for a second.”
Batting my lashes, I leaned toward him, resting my chin on my hands. “Oh, Murray, you’re so very smart and delightful. Tell me all about printing presses and—”
“Don’t call me Murray. Makes me feel weird.”
“Youareweird.” Why did this man bring out the six-year-old in me?
He palmed my face, pushing me back to my side of the car. Before he could take his hand away, I managed to snag it between my teeth, digging in just hard enough for it to smart. When I released him, he waved his hand in front of him, wincing and laughing. And, I admit, maybe I laughed too. It wasn’t often a man found me as amusing as I found myself. Leave it to Alex to be the exception.
A few miles down the road, Alex nodded to the wires in my lap. “Can I see?”
“You want to see the bomb?”
Since we’d left the city and were traveling down a highway, Alex set the Tesla to autopilot and turned his head to look at me. “I’m not convinced you’re actually building a bomb. Let me see.”
I held out my hand, showing him the flower I’d been weaving from metal wires. “It’s nowhere near done.”
His index finger barely grazed one of the copper and silver petals. “Beautiful. I didn’t know you were still making art.”
