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“I told her Winona Ryder was my cousin, and if she hung out with me long enough, we’d call her.”
“Winona Ryder fromStranger Things? I love that show.”
“Stranger Things? More likeHeathers,Reality Bites,Edward Scissorhands.”
Charlie gave them a blank stare, and Mack sucked back her smile. ’80s and ’90s movies were a staple in their house, an obsession passed down from her parents at an early age. Charlie was likely verging on the lecture of a lifetime over classic cinematic masterpieces.
“Doesn’t matter. She’s been around forever. Since my last name’s Ryder, I chased Kelli around and made up these stories about family Christmas gatherings and summer BBQs with Winona. Come to think of it, Mack must’ve gotten her storytelling talent from me.” He elbowed Mack with a smirk. “Anyway, after promising her I’d introduce them, Kelli finally went out with me. And almost up broke up with me the second she found out it wasn’t true.”
Mack’s mom turned off the stove and drained the pasta. “I knew he was full of it. I mean, how dumb did he think I was? But I had a crush on him for an entire year and was playing hard to get.”
“Oh, I love this. What a cute story.” A wide grin appeared on her face. “And I promise I’ll brush up on my movie history by the next time I see you.”
He pulled out some seasoning from the cabinet and handed it to her mom, then glanced at Charlie. “Did you bring something for me?”
A blushing Charlie handed over the folder and stared at the floor before straightening her shoulders. “I did. This should be everything.”
Her dad nodded and tucked the paperwork under his arm.
Mack wanted to beg her dad to look at what Charlie handed him and take care of anything she needed immediately. She clamped her tongue between her teeth and inhaled. Charlie was a fighter, a survivor. Navigated a tough childhood, opened a store, and kept her smile bright. No matter how much she wanted to step in and protect her, tonight wasnotthe time to satisfy her savior complex. “All right, now that we’ve gotten the awkward meet-the-parents out of the way, how about we leave?”
Charlie readjusted her purse. “Nice meeting you, Kelli. Does Mack have a curfew?”
“Oh my God, let’s go.” Mack laughed and opened the door.
The sweet, pine-infused air crossed Mack’s nose as they walked to Charlie’s car, and she shielded her eyes against the bright evening sun. When Mack opened the car door, she couldn’t help but grin. The car looked exactly as she thought it would. A sparkly medallion hung from the rearview mirror, various lotions were stuffed in the console, and the steering wheel was wrapped with purple fuzzy warmer.
“You said Pike Place Market first, right?” Mack asked as she strapped the seatbelt across her chest. “The place where all the dudes throw fish at one another and yell?”
“Yeah, but it’s so much more than that. The market’s filled with local artists and farmers. Has this great view over the Sound. I can’t wait to show you some of my favorite vendors.” Charlie eased into traffic. “The market is really busy on the weekend afternoons, but since it’s a bit later, hopefully it won’t be too bad.” Charlie grinned and squeezed Mack’s knee before she pulled it back.
Tonight was already better than every night this past year, and it had only just started.
“For real, though, if the market gets too intense, we can go somewhere quieter.”
At this point, she would’ve followed Charlie just about anywhere. Crowd-surfing in a mosh pit? Sure. New Year’s Eve at Times Square? Sounds fun. Front seat tickets to Coachella? Perfect. As long as this bubbly feeling continued, Mack was invincible.
The car rumbled over a few impressive potholes as they drove through the narrow streets of Seattle. Mack caught Charlie’s eye and shoved her hands under her knees. She was here, in a car, drivingon a date. She should’ve gotten Charlie flowers. Damn it. Or chocolates. Or a pet bunny.
After parking and walking toward the market, Charlie leaned toward Mack. “Ready for this?”
“Obligatory selfie?” Mack pointed at the oversized, lit-upPublic Marketsign hovering above the building.
“For sure. We don’t want anyone here to think we’re locals or they’ll start asking for directions.”
The city buzzed around them, conversation and laughter mixed with the briny Puget Sound scent and fresh fish. A bookstore, flowers—so many flowers—and merchants holding slices of Pink Lady apples on the sidewalk bordered them as they padded down the hill.
A faint piano melody echoed in the distance as they strolled past cheesecake displays, humbows, and piroshkis near the original Starbucks. Mack’s stomach growled. Down another block, passersby tossed coins and dollars into the open, scratched guitar case in front of a man strumming an Ed Sheeran song.
“Over there.” Charlie pointed at a lively crowd surrounding burly men wearing orange pants and suspenders. They eased their way to the front and stopped near a sign that said:Caution: Low-Flying Fish.
The men tossed a fish and yelled something indistinguishable to one another. And the crowd dispersed.
“Wait—that’s it?” Mack said. “That’s the whole thing? Did they just throw a fish and yell ‘ey!’?”
“Pretty much. No idea why it resonates with so many people, but I get sucked into it every time.”
Mack took out her phone to snap a few photos. In all the years her parents had lived in Seattle, she never once visited the market. New York was hard to beat for people watching. But this place might come in as a close second. “Maybe people like seeing teamwork? These guys seem happy. I heard they made corporate training videos.”
