Page 28 of Life’s Too Short

She looked up from my phone. “Oktoberfest. Germany. Where are your pictures of Rachel?”

“I don’t think I have any,” I admitted.

She laughed. “So you had a girlfriend, but she doesn’t go to this school?”

I smirked. “You don’t think I had a girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”

I nodded at my phone. “Look for her on Instagram. Her account’s private, but if you search on my phone you can see it. Her name is Rachel Dunham.”

I watched her punch the icon and scroll through my phone and my smile fell a little. I should probably unfollow Rachel and her fake account. I made a mental note to do that as soon as I got my cell back. I looked back at the picture of Vanessa, trying to distract myself.

In the Oktoberfest photo her chest was pushed up almost to her chin by a bodice of some sort. Her hair was in an intricate braid that wrapped around her head and she was smiling. She looked beautiful in it.

Her cell phone vibrated in my hand and a number popped up at the top of the screen. It was mine.

“What are you sending to your phone?” I asked.

She didn’t look up. “Pictures of you. I told you, the ladies aren’t going to believe I’m hanging out with you. I’m gonna need proof.”

I tapped on the message and a text from my phone filled the screen. She’d sent herself three pictures of me from my gallery. One was me with Mom and Grandma at Mom’s birthday back in June. Another was a shot of me shaking hands with Marcus, at a fund-raiser. And the last one was my finisher picture for the last marathon I’d run, six months ago.

“You know, just because you have pictures of me doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “The ladies might say you just took them off my Instagram.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Good point, lawyer. I am a known cyber stalker. What do you have in mind?”

“We could take a selfie,” I suggested.

She brightened. “Good idea! Let’s put the baby and the dog in it for a time stamp.”

She picked up Grace and handed her to me. Then she grabbed the dog and crawled through the pile of trash between us, scooted over, and leaned into me, her shoulder pressing into my biceps.

The contact sent a warm ripple through me. It surprised me, gave me an impulse to turn my head to her.

I kept my face straight.

She angled my phone, we smiled, and she took the picture. Then she took Grace from me and moved back to her side of the pile with the baby in her lap.

The spot Vanessa had touched felt vacant.

We spent another few minutes going through each other’s phones. We both played the first song in each other’s favorite playlist.

Hers was “Redemption” by Lola Simone. Mine was “Back Down” by Bob Moses. I liked running to it.

“So,” she said, returning my phone. “Tell me, Adrian, how much time do you spend at the gym? Why are you so chiseled?”

I laughed. “Chiseled?”

“Yeah.” She cradled Grace and kissed her cheek. “I read a lot of romance novels and this is definitely chiseling that you have going on.”

“I try to stay in shape. I do triathlons sometimes.”

She blanched. “For fun?”

I peeled the tape off a box. “What, you don’t think running, biking, and swimming are fun?”

“I think walks on the beach, leisurely bike rides, and floating are fun. I don’t run unless I’m being chased. So, do you drink anything other than wine?”