Page 59 of Holding On To Good

“Well,” Willow told Urban before his family started in on round two and she couldn’t get a word in edgewise, “thank you. And thanks for seeing me home and getting my car to my place.”

“Miles did that,” Urban said. “Him and Coop.”

“You can give me your undying gratitude,” Miles told her. “I’ll pass the sentiment on to Coop. He’s the shy type. Doesn’t like a lot of fuss made over him and his good deeds.”

Shaking her head, Willow fought a smile and lost. She rose onto her toes and gave Miles a quick peck. Stayed there, one hand on his shoulder for balance as she patted his too handsome face with the other. “You have my undying gratitude.”

He winked. “I thought you’d feel that way.”

“If there’s nothing else,” Urban said, his tone short, his voice grumbly as Willow fell back to her heels, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the shop.”

Verity inhaled sharply and both Toby and Miles shot frowns Urban’s way.

Willow’s face burned.

What happened to Mr. Nice Guy?

“Nope, that’s all,” she said, bright and cheery, as if all was right with the world and she wasn’t torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and kicking him in the shin. Or kicking him in the shin, then crawling into a hole. “I’ll get going. Let you get to your dinner.”

It was a good exit. Polite. Dignified. It would’ve been a real boost to her flagging ego, hurt feelings and busted morale if she’d been able to pull it off.

Instead, when she turned to walk away, dizziness swept over her and she swayed.

Dignity. Never around when she needed it.

Miles leaped over and steadied her as Urban and Toby both stepped toward her—though what Toby was going to do with his hands full of pizza boxes was beyond her.

“Are you all right?” Toby asked.

“Fine.” Squinting, she looked up at him, circled her finger in the air to indicate his head. “Though I’m guessing those polka dots swirling around your face aren’t real.”

Urban’s scowl became even scowlier. “You should sit down.”

“I’m fine.” She shut her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. Let it go then opened her eyes. “There. Toby is spot free. I just moved too quickly. Got a bit light-headed.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Urban asked, sounding put out, as if her being dizzy somehow ruined his day.

“I had a couple bites of toast this morning—”

“If you’re trying to lose weight,” Verity said, “it’s better to eat regular meals. Keeps your metabolism strong.”

“I’m not trying to lose weight. I haven’t eaten because I wasn’t feeling well—”

“Do you have a stomach bug?” Verity asked, taking a huge step back. “Because the only thing worse than not having a car for two weeks is not having a car and puking your guts out for two weeks.”

“I’m not sick. I mean, I was—”

“Viruses travel through the air,” Verity announced and moved back again, this time tugging Ian with her. “Everybody keep six feet between you and her. And don’t breathe.”

“I don’t have a virus. I had a little” —Willow held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart— “too much champagne at my sister’s wedding-slash-baby shower.”

At the shower. After the shower. Same thing.

“Oh,” Verity said on a soft exhale. She hadn’t been kidding about that whole don’t breathe thing. She sent Willow a sympathetic frown. “A wine buzz is the best, but the hangovers are the worst.”

“And you know this how?” Miles asked.

She blinked at him innocently. “AP Bio. There was an entire chapter on how the body processes sugars, carbs, fats, and alcohol.” She turned back to Willow. “You need to eat something.”

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