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I send a text over to Owen.
Me: When will you be wrapping this shindig up?
But he doesn’t even look at his phone. I know he’s wearing asmartwatch, but when he glances down at it, instead of reading, he lays one hand over the face, silencing the thing.
Hey.
Rude.
But then, he’s on his feet. He says something, and Belle laughs like he’s a professional comedian. Owen can be funny, but notthatfunny.
Yep, let’s move on. Time for Owen’s third first date, where we will focus on sincere compliments.
Owen doesn’t look my way as he and Belle walk right past me. They’re so close that I could stab Owen in the leg with my fork. I don’t. But I could.
Where are they going? Wasn’t this long enough? Besides, they came in separate cars.
I’m searching for Berny. I need my check, and I need it now. How else will I follow them to wherever it is they’re going when—
“Hey there, Sherlock.” Owen plops into the chair next to me. Berny’s chair. “Is Watson going to make an appearance again? I’d like to thank him for the continuous refilling of our barely touched water cups.”
“Wats—what are you talking about?”
“Your waiter friend. Don’t think I didn’t notice him cleaning all the tables around us and filling up our water cups even though he wasn’t our server and our cups were so full I thought for sure he’d cause them to run over.”
“That’s just Berny.” I wave it off as if Bernard and I have been friends for years. “Don’t worry about him. Although, I do like this place for your next first date.” I huff. “Sorry it didn’t work out, but I’ve got another letter in mind. Candy. Sure, her name sounds like she’s a small child dressed in all pink, but she’s great!”
“Wait.” Owen shakes his head. “Belle and I set something upfor next weekend. I’ve got a second date, Annie. Your advice worked, spot on.” He gives me a small, closed-lip grin.
“Well, of course, it did,” I say with a gulp. It’s good advice. I knew it was.
Bernard isn’t wrong. I am young. But I do have life experience. And I studied psychology and journalism in school. Not to mention my fact-checking skills.
So, there you go.
My advice works.
I’m not surprised.
I’m also not nearly as thrilled as I should be.
20
Annie
“I
knew this would come back to bite you in the a—” Kayla pauses mid-sentence, only to interrupt herself. “Hey! What did Mama say about putting yogurt in your hair? Huh? Yogurt isn’t gel, Steve!”
“It’s not biting me anywhere, Kayla. It’s working. Owen’s got a second date. He said”—I bristle a little with the memory of his words—“she’s interesting to talk to.”
“If it isn’t biting you in the—” Steve runs over, officially shutting up his potty mouth of a mother. He hands her a leather belt without any explanation. Kayla clears her throat. “If it’s working out just dandy for you,” she says, her tone sweet as she buckles the belt—not around my nephew’s waist, but crossed over one shoulder and the boy’s chest, so he looks like some kind of Amazon warrior. “Then”—she turns Steve around and pats him on the behind, sending him on his way—“why do you sound so prickly?”
“Prickly? I’m not prickly. I’m thrilled.”
Kayla huffs out a laugh. “You sound thrilled.” Then, without even turning her head, my Jedi sister yells, “Bucky T. I see you! You slather any more yogurt in your brother’s hair, and I am buzzing every inch of yours off.”
My nephew’s hand freezes mid-air. A dollop of yogurt hangs from his fingers and plops onto Steve’s head. Bucky gasps, both of his hands clapping onto his own head before he races down the hallway.
