Page 84 of First-Time Caller
LUCIE STONE:Are you?
AIDEN VALENTINE:Yes!
LUCIE STONE:A knock-knock joke?
AIDEN VALENTINE:Obviously.
LUCIE STONE:I’m sorry! I wasn’t prepared. Try again.
AIDEN VALENTINE:No.
LUCIE STONE:C’mon. Don’t be shy. I was just surprised.
AIDEN VALENTINE:No.
LUCIE STONE:Is this because I said that you never—
AIDEN VALENTINE:No. Never mind. Forget about it.
Where is this date again?”
“Tagliata,” I tell Patty through my speakerphone, turning my steering wheel to the right. “The Italian restaurant over by the water.”
Parking in Harbor East is a pain on a good day, even worse when it’s raining. I double-check the clock and curse when I realize I’m already five minutes late. And Aiden didn’t bother giving me Oliver’s number. All I got was a location pin, a time, and the name of the reservation. Nothing else. Not even aGood luck. Or the straight-faced emoji he seems so fond of.
I don’t know what crawled up Aiden’s ass and died this week, but he’s hardly said a word to me since he saw those text messages on theHeartstringsphone. I’ve tried to talk to him about it several times, but he’s either brushed me off, changed the subject, or ignored me completely.
So, like the mature adult I am, I’ve started ignoring him back.
When he sent me the information for the date, I didn’t even give him a thumbs-up.
So much for our mutual crush. He was right. It faded right away.
“Ooh,” Patty singsongs. “That place is fancy.”
“Get the rigatoni!” Maya bellows from somewhere in the background. When I left the two of them, they were bundled up on the couch together, only their eyes visible. Harrison Ford was paused on the television and Patty had enough chocolate in her purse to mobilize a small coalition. I’m not sure Maya will ever sleep again.
“I’ll get the rigatoni if I ever find a parking spot.” I do another lap around the block. If I have to walk from Little Italy, I’m going to look like a drowned rat by the time I get there. “Maya, is there an umbrella in this car that I don’t know about?”
“My diorama from science class is still in the trunk. The one we made for the national parks unit.”
“No way am I ruining Tiny Yosemite to keep my hair dry. Using gummy bears to make Half Dome is my crowning achievement as a parent.”
Maya snickers. “Dad still whines about it. He made me sign a contract that says I’ll never go to you for an art project again.”
“Use that hoodie you have in the back seat,” Patty interrupts, her voice carefully even.
I scowl out my windshield. “What hoodie?”
“The oversized hoodie I saw in there last week.” She pauses. “You know. The one that hasHeartstringson the front.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m hanging up the phone now.”
Patty cackles like a deranged woodland creature. “What? It’s a good suggestion. You’re just—”
“Bye, Maya. Have lots of fun tonight. I love you to pieces.” I hang up the phone before Patty can say anything else. So what if I still have Aiden’s sweatshirt in the back seat of my car from the night he wrapped it around my shoulders. So what if I have no intention of returning it. It’s comfortable and it smells good. He hasn’t asked for it back, and as far as I can tell, he has plenty of sweatshirts. He probably hasn’t even noticed it’s gone. It’s mine now.
By the time I find a parking spot, dart down the sidewalk, and skitter into the restaurant, I’m twelve minutes late and the front of my dress is dotted with rain. I look like I took a spin in a car wash without the car. I used a folded-up copy of theBaltimore Sunto shield myself the best I could, and that apparently . . . did not work.
