Page 9 of Embracing the Beat
“Great,” I say with a smile. “You’re a natural.”
Her smile is bigger than it was last night, but still not the one I want to see. The question hovers on my tongue. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but something tells me I’d get the same answer I got yesterday—she’s tired. There’s more though. I don’t know how I know that, but there is. She won’t react well if I keep pushing her for answers she doesn’t want to give.
“This whole wall like this?” she asks, and I move my attention to what she’s been doing.
“Yep.”
She turns back to her wall, and I wait for the humming to begin again, but it doesn’t. Finally, I restart the wall I’m working on, embarrassed to realize I need to redo the section I textured after she first started humming. Soon enough I fix it, and the silence continues.
Silence between Ashley and I had been tense the last couple of years we were together. Usually because of something I said or did to piss her off. But with Mikey, it isn’t.
It’s comfortable, but I still find myself breaking the quiet.
“Happy to be home?”
I keep my back to her as I turn to the next wall.
“You have no idea.” She snorts.
“You said a few weeks, right?”
“More or less.” Her vague answer piques my curiosity.
“Any plans while you’re home?”
“A cheesesteak somewhere with my name on it.” The smile is clear in her voice.
“Oh yeah? You and your friends going to hit up Pat’s?”
“Pat’s?” She glances over her shoulder at me, her face a mask of mischievous horror. “I’m a Geno’s girl, Abbott.”
“Pat’s invented the sandwich,” I argue.
She shrugs and sticks her tongue out at me. “I like what I like.”
“You’re crazy.” Despite my words, I love the way her eyes have lit up. Who’d have thought a cheesesteak had that kind of power? “Geno’s…what’s next? Swiss cheese?”
A giggle bursts from her lips.
“Have you ever had Geno’s?” she asks, hip canted out in a sassy pose.
“No, I’m a purist.”
“So how do you know you like Pat’s better?”
I shrug. “I guess I don’t.”
“We could always do a taste test. Hit up both places,” she suggests.
“Name the time, Mikey.”
“Friday night?”
Friday. Shit.
“Back-to-school night is on Friday,” I apologize. “We won’t be done until late, but what about Saturday? And maybe we could grab a drink when I’m done on Friday. A welcome-back-to-Philly night. You can invite your friends too.”
The smile fades from her face. “My only friend is on location shooting a movie.”
