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Blustering and red-faced, Mortimer protests. He’ll do anything at this point, I’m sure, to try to save face. But I don’t have to sit here and watch him do it.
I spin on my toes and stride away.
At the bench, I pause to give Jocelyn a quick hug goodbye and thank her for her honesty. Then I head for my car, practically at a jog.
This light feeling in my chest makes me want to run.
I don’t have a plan for what might come next in my life. The only thing moving my feet forward is a joyful feeling of freedom that’s surging through my body.
When the same camera-wielding man I noticed earlier catches up to me and steps into my path, I nearly crash right into him.
A second guy joins the camera man. Given his unique caramel complexion and distinctive, green-tipped mohawk, I know who he is right away.
And I don’t want to talk to him.
I want to get to my car.
“Leave me alone, please,” I say in a rush, as I step forward, hoping the two will part and make way for me.
But they stand there on the sidewalk, blocking my way, and now I see that the big, professional-looking camera has a glowing red light on it. I’m being recorded.
Nikko steps onto the path with me. He’s holding a mic.
He turns to his cameraman, and with a huge smile says, “Wow, guys, we’re live with Right Match founder Gemma Lafferty, moments after her public smack-down with bestselling author Mortimer Laughlin. Gemma, what an honor to be here with you… Can you tell us more about what we all witnessed back there, live onThe Nikko Show? Because I know we all have tons of questions…”
Chapter23
Parker
I dump Fruit Loops into a bowl and add milk while keeping tabs on Queenie out of the corner of my eye. She’s prancing along the counter, tail high.
Wanting some of this milk, probably. It’s quickly turning pink in the bowl, a color that can’t be healthy for cats.
Maybe not for humans, either, but I’m feeling too bummed out to cook.
Before she can stick her nose in the bowl, I swipe the dish up and out of reach.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur gently. “You got fresh grub down there. That fancy fishy stuff she gets you. Way better for you.”
I carry my bowl to the counter, lost in thought.
I need to be a better man.
If I want Gemma, that’s what I have to do. The problem is, I don’t know how. I slurp down a bite, racking my brain.
I got her to loosen her grip on her racket. I remember how it felt, to feel her hand relax, under mine.
That first time we played, with the floodlights on and the field around us so dark, she said something to me. It was cold out, and we could both see our breath. I tried to kiss her, but she had other plans.
What was it, that she said?
Queenie passes in front of my cereal bowl. I pat my lap, and she jumps down. As I stroke her back, I try to remember…
It was about how I should think ahead and take action, instead of sitting back and watching things unfold. She was in therapist-mode, trying to be helpful.
At the time, her advice didn’t register.
But maybe she had a point.
