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I need to let go of the door and send him on his way, but I don’t want to.
12
Vince
“Didn’t we already eat together? In there?” She points to the lunchroom. She smiles coyly.
I see what she’s doing. “The fuck is Satan, anyway?”
She wags her head like she’s not sure what is happening. And then she cackles. “Oh! You mean seitan. It’s a meat substitute made of—”
I put my hand up. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m asking if you want to go on a date with me. Now, before you say no, let me tell you that not only am I unemployed, but I also don’t cook or clean, and I haven’t had my cholesterol checked in…well, ever. I’m a real catch.”
She cocks her head at me like I can’t seriously be as disgusting as I make it sound.
“Let’s see how we do at the bake sale first and then I’ll decide. And in the meantime, go easy on yourself, Vince.”
Before I leave, she gives me a wink.
A wink is not a promise.
But a wink is something.
I’ll take something.
13
Jewel
He doesn’t see me, but I’m right behind him in the baking aisle at the grocery store the next Saturday morning.
The bake sale is Monday, and I think I’ve got everything under control. I’m making sour cream Meyer lemon poppy seed muffins with raspberry glaze. It may seem a bit rich, but can we all stop pretending muffins are anything but cupcakes disguised as breakfast?
I try to stay back so he doesn’t see me, but I’m also creeping close enough to see what’s in his cart. All-purpose flour, sugar, peanut butter, eggs, cream, bananas—oh god. He’s actually going to bake something. And by the looks of it, it is not allergen-free or vegan. I’ll have to make sure it’s wrapped well and that I post signage. And then I make a mental note to buy whatever the hell he makes because the pleasure of seeing this grouchy fellow pushing a buggy around with his little boy is making my ovaries form a roaring cheerleading squad.
Just then my phone rings, which might ordinarily not cause a grown man to swivel around in the baking aisle, but of course my ringtone is set to “Big Yellow Taxi.” Extra loud.
Max and Vince both whip around to gawk. I wave enthusiastically. “Hi, Vince! Hi, Max! Oh god, sorry, so loud. Ugh.” Why am I such a spaz?
I answer it. “Hi, Janeane…yes…yes…the bake sale goes from after school until seven p.m. Right…well, we’ve let the parents handle the nut-free, vegan, gluten-free, paleo, keto baked goods this year. We’ll have a special section for non-allergen-free items and it’ll be clearly marked. No, no, I’m sure your vegan keto energy bars will sell like hot cakes—gluten-free, egg-free hot cakes, of course. Bad joke. It’ll be great…wonderful…fantastic…gotta go. See you Monday…”
I hang up with gritted teeth. I know allergies are real, but I wish parents would trust that I’m looking out for the kids. I’ve been trained by the school’s highly paid nurse to know how to prevent allergic episodes and how to treat them when they do happen. And I wish parents would avoid calling me on weekends, especially with questions that have already been answered in group emails. Multiple times over.
But then my face lands on Vince and Max together, and those two make my happy heart feel relaxed and somehow happier.
“I’m so glad I ran into you guys!” I cheer, letting Max come over to hug me. Oh my god, I love little-boy smell. I could sniff that mop top all day long.
I peer into his basket, “Whatcha got cooking in there, daddio?” Did I just say daddio? Somebody run me over with a grocery pallet mover right now please.
“Uh, it’s a secret,” Vince says, his mouth frowning but one sexy eyebrow raised.
Heat and electricity crackles in the air between us. But it doesn’t hang in the air this time. It travels…down. Down the front of my t-shirt and flutters lower, all the way down until it teases my Luna Lovegood.
Yes. I named my lady business Luna Lovegood. Obviously.
14
Vince
