Page 45 of Falling For You

"They're getting more aggressive."

"Are you worried?"

"I've been here thirty years." He picked the glass back up. "They'll get this place when I'm in the ground."

CHAPTER 19

Barb

ANDY

The grocery store was busier than usual for a weekday afternoon. I grabbed a basket and worked my way through produce, checking avocados for ripeness and picking through the bananas for a bunch that wasn't already browning.

I was comparing two cartons of eggs when I heard running footsteps and felt something small collide with my hip.

"It's you!"

Birdie Brooks was grinning up at me with both arms wrapped around my waist like she'd been looking for me all day. Her ponytail was neat, her pink bow clipped on top.

"Birdie!" I crouched down to her level. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping with Barb!"

An older woman came around the end of the aisle pushing a cart. She had the exasperated look of a woman who'd just lost track of a six-year-old in a public place.

"Birdie, sweetheart, you cannot just run off like⁠—"

She stopped when she saw me. Her eyes went from Birdie's arms around my waist to my face, and her expression shifted from panic to confusion.

"I'm so sorry. She just took off before I could stop her."

"It's okay," I said. "We know each other."

"She's the princess cop! She lives across the street!" Birdie announced, still attached to my hip.

The woman looked at me again. "You're Andy."

"I am."

"I'm Barb." She extended her hand and I shook it. Her grip was firm. "Birdie and Wyatt talk about you all the time. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

I didn't know they talked about me at home.

"It's nice to meet you too, Barb."

Birdie detached herself from my waist.

"Are you coming home with us?" Birdie looked up at me with those big eyes.

"Birdie, honey." Barb put a hand on her shoulder. "Andy is doing her own shopping."

"It's fine," I said. "I was almost done anyway. Can I help you carry the bags?"

We walked the three blocks together. Birdie held Barb's hand with one fist and mine with the other, swinging between us like a bridge. I carried two of the grocery bags and Barb carried the third. Birdie talked the entire walk about a dog she'd seen at the park yesterday, a girl in her class who could hold her breath for a whole minute, and a theory about whether clouds had feelings.

I was inside the house before I'd made a conscious decision to go in. Birdie pulled me through the door, Barb needed help with the bags, and the groceries needed to be put away. I was being useful. That was the only reason I was standing in Wyatt Brooks's kitchen that afternoon.

"Wyatt had to run an errand this afternoon," Barb said, putting milk in the fridge. "He'll be back in a few hours. Stay for coffee?"