AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When we finally hang up, right after Mom gives me a virtual tour of the new kitchen garden she’s planted and let me say hi to the dogs, homesickness is a tight knot in my throat. The place is most beautiful in the summer, and it’s already halfway through June.
I clean up the remnants of my Sunday-breakfast-turned-brunch-turned-lunch and grab the two tea mugs still left out on the coffee table from Friday night. His, with peonies, and mine, with a cartoon dog. I look down to watch Ace lying comfortably on the floor, alive and pain-free.
Grabbing my phone, I write him a quick text.
Summer:Thank you so much for your help the other night and for staying a while after. I owe you.
I stare at the text and fight against the quick beating of my heart. It’s absurd to care this much—that him reading my words, looking down at his phone, matters this much.
But it does.
He’d been calm and steady on Friday… and the way he’d sat on my couch that night? With his dark hair tousled and long legs stretched out in front of him, he’d looked like a lazy god. One constantly passing judgement on those around him.
One with layers and layers of secrets.
His response comes ten minutes later, sending me vaulting over the couch to where I’d thrown my phone.
Anthony:You’re welcome. How’s Ace doing?
I sink down onto my couch and let my fingers fly over the phone. Picture him staring down at his, waiting for my response.
Summer:He was tired when I picked him up yesterday and has been sleeping a lot. But today his mood is up and he’s been playing a bit with his toys. Almost back to normal!
Anthony:That’s great. Have you told the delivery guy what happened because of his chocolates?
Summer:No, of course not! He might feel terrible, when he did nothing wrong.
He doesn’t answer that. I look at my phone for an embarrassingly long time.
Not ready to let this be the end.
My heart in my throat, I cast out for anything to say. Anything that might keep this going. When I’d walked back home with Ace yesterday, a woman had handed out flyers for a beer tasting. Would that be overstepping my boundaries?
But he hadn’t objected the other night when I called us friends. Spending time with him is fun. Challenging. Taunting the cynic from his shell, his presence steady and his humor surprisingly dark.
My phone chimes again. He’s sent me an image.
A packet of chamomile tea sits on the dark wood of a kitchen counter.
Anthony:I got a new toy to play with, too. It was all right when you made it.
I’m smiling as I respond.
Summer:Happy I converted someone to tea! It’s great for helping you sleep, too.
Anthony:So I’ve gathered.
Throwing caution to the wind, I type an invite. Prepare myself for his immediate refusal, or worse, silence.
Summer:If you’re in the mood for something stronger, though, the bar on my street has a beer tasting tonight. Want to join?
It takes a few minutes for the response to come, and when it does, it’s only two words.
Anthony:Just us?
Summer:Yes.
This time, his reply is instant.
