Page 57 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
“Really?” Lucas looked interested. “What’s she doing now?”
“She’s working at Coffee Darling currently. That’s her sister’s shop. But I know she’d like something else.”
He nodded. “I know that place. They have good croissants.” Pulling out his wallet again, he gave me another card. “This is Mia’s card. Pass this along to her, and have her give Mia a call to set up an interview.” He smiled wryly. “Although my wife’s so picky and so moody these days, I almost don’t want to send your friend into lion’s den.”
“She can handle moody,” I assured him. “And I think your wife would like Skylar—she’s beautiful and smart, and she works really hard.”
Lucas grinned. “Is her last name Pryce?”
“Ah. No.” The tips of my ears burned. “It’s Nixon.”
“Well, what are you waiting for, Pryce? Marry that girl.” His grin widened before he tipped up his water bottle again.
I rubbed the back of my neck, which suddenly felt hot too. “Yeah, it’s probably too soon for that. We’ve only been on one date.”
Mia came back in the room, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Sometimes that’s all it takes,” he said.
The Saturday before Memorial day, which was also the day of the reunion, I got off work a little early and moved my things into my parents’ house.
Back in my old room, I plugged in my laptop and phone, shoved a few boxes under the bed, hung dresses, skirts, blouses, and coats in my closet, and stacked shoe boxes beneath them. Into the drawers of my old dresser went underwear, socks, pajamas, bottoms and tops, workout clothes and a couple bathing suits. I tried not to feel too depressed about having to live with my parents, but it was hard. Every noise I heard, from the slam of the dresser drawers to the squeak of my old bed springs, reminded me that I was right back where I’d started ten years ago. Even the smell of the house hadn’t changed—furniture polish and pie. There was always a pie in the oven because my mother sold them at the little farm stand on the road.
Once everything was moved and unpacked, I went back to the guest house and helped my mother give it a thorough cleaning. She praised everything I’d done with it, from paint colors to linens to small finishing touches like the bin pulls, and thanked me for my hard work. I could tell she suspected something was up with me, because she kept eyeing me strangely. It was the look she used to give us before checking to see if we had a fever as kids.
“Everything OK?” she asked after I sighed for the millionth time, glancing over at me from the window she was washing.
“Fine.” I continued wiping down the counters.
She was quiet a minute, her cloth squeaking on the glass. “Sebastian is nice. He going with you to the reunion tonight?”
“No.”
“Why not? I thought you graduated the same year.”
“We did. He doesn’t want to go.” I finished
with the counters and moved on to the oven, which I hadn’t even used that much because I really didn’t cook. Yet another adult skill I lacked.
“Oh. What about Dani and Kristen?”
“They couldn’t make it in. Dani’s due in like two weeks, and Kristen’s in-laws were visiting or something.”
“Are you going alone, then?”
“I guess.”
She stopped what she was doing and came over to the kitchen. “You don’t sound very excited about it.”
“I’m not.”
“So why go at all?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I won’t.”
“Skylar.”
I finally turned and looked at her.
“What’s with you?” Her brow furrowed. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
