Page 118 of Small Town Swoo
Katherine, who was seated closest to me, shook my hand and smiled. Possibly she was in her forties, although it was hard to tell someone’sactualage in L.A. Her long blond hair was gathered in a ponytail, and her skin was fair and smooth. “So nice to meet you. Thank you very much for being here today. My niece was just ecstatic when I told her.”
“Best birthday gift ever,” said the woman seated on the other side of her, leaning forward to flash me a grin. “I’m Pinky’s mom, Nicole.”
I nodded, wishing I was wearing something—anything—else. “Glad to meet you both.”
“You’re so good with them,” Nicole said. “Do you have kids? Sisters?”
“No kids. One little sister.”
“Well, you’re a natural. And such a good sport.” Katherine laughed. “I can’t believe they made you wear the shark onesie.”
“Dash! Come on, where’s the pic?” Pinky called from the couch.
“Better get back to your adoring fans,” said Olivia. “And thanks again for coming.” She clasped her hands at her chest and gave me a look that saidyou saved my ass.
“Sure.” Leaving the women at the bar, I shuffled back to the couch and sank down between Pinky and Plum. The rest of the girls huddled around us. After opening up my photos, I found some recent ones I’d taken of Ari—mostly her in the kitchen, but I’d also snapped a couple the night I’d taken her to Etoile, and there were some from Devlin’s wedding too. “That’s her,” I said, scrolling through them one at a time.
“Ooooh, I love her hair!”
“She’s so pretty!”
“I love that red dress!”
“Aww, you’re so cute together!”
“So, wait. How come she’s not your girlfriend?” Alaska wanted to know.
“Because she lives in Michigan and I live in California.”
“Why can’t she just move here?”
“Because she loves where she lives. Her family is there. Family is very important to her.”
“Is it important to you?” Plum asked.
“Yes.”
“Where’syourfamily?”
“They’re in Cherry Tree Harbor too.”
“So why don’t you move there?”
“Because my work as an actor is also important to me. And my work is here.”
“Do you love her?” Pinky demanded from my left.
“I—” I tugged at the neck of my onesie. Suddenly I was sweating. “That’s kind of a hard question.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “Do you think about her a lot?”
“I can’tstopthinking about her,” I confessed.
“Really?” The girls all leaned in.
“Really. She’s the best, sweetest, most generous person I know. She makes me laugh, and when I make her laugh, it feels like someone just handed me a million bucks. When I’m with her, I’m always happy. I can be my real self and not have to hide anything. And she’s so beautiful—sometimes I just look at her, and I think my chest might explode.”
A chorus of sighs surrounded me.
