Page 32 of Flirting with Forever

“It doesn’t matter.”

“And you don’t think there’s any chance that she...”

“We’re friends, Ma.”

“Right.” There was a long pause. “Cormac wanted to know if you’d come help with the backyard this weekend.”

Cormac was a strapping beast of a man, but he was getting on in years and had had trouble with sciatica recently.

“Of course. Why didn’t he text me himself?”

“Because he doesn’t think he needs the help,” Estrella said sharply.

John laughed. “Is there any business you won’t stick your nose into?”

“Plenty. But you and Cormacaremy business. It doesn’t count as nosy if it’s about you or Cormac.”

Even as he rolled his eyes at his mother, he enjoyed the enveloping wave of her palpable love. Mary’s parents were neutral-palette people, expecting her to wear boring navy and grit her teeth through spending time with them. Maddox’s mother hadn’t even visited him when he’d been in rehab a few years ago. John was lucky to have a mother who loved him enough to mother-hen him.

“I’ll be over this afternoon.”

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good you have feelings for her. Even if it didn’t turn out. It’s been a long time since you thought about much other than work and family.”

John grunted. “Woulda been better if she’d had ’em back.”

Estrella sighed. “Maybe so.”

ANDTHUSBEGANthe Mary fast. It was sort of like when, a few times a year, John allowed himself to splurge on a quart of fresh-squeezed orange juice. He would literally set his alarm fifteen minutes early on those mornings so that he could sit down with a cup and truly enjoy it. It was such a bright way to start his day. But then, inevitably, the quart would run out and he was back to his lone cup of black coffee. It wasn’t that the black coffee was bad; it was just that juice was better.

“Mary’s funny,” Richie said with a laugh one afternoon while John stabbed at a soggy salad he’d brought from home.

“Yeah. Wait, what?” John swiveled in his chair and blinked his eyes a few times. He’d been staring at his computer screen for an hour and real life was hard to bring into focus, literally and metaphorically.

“Your friend Mary,” Richie said, waving his cell phone at John. “She’s funny.”

John frowned, eyeing the cell phone. “You’re texting with Mary?”

“No, I’m chatting with her through this game we both play. She’s the only person I’ve ever played who can beat me. Which would bother me, but she also talks some pretty hilarious smack while she’s at it.”

“How the hell did you connect with her on that app?”

Richie lifted an eyebrow. “We talked about it that day she came by the Supreme Court.”

“And you’ve been playing ever since?”

“Is this a problem for you, John?” Richie asked drily.

“No.” John frowned even harder. “I just didn’t realize you two were becoming friends.”

“She’s pretty easy to like.”

With that, John swiveled toward his computer screen and gave up on his soggy salad, packing it back into his bag. Maybe he’d splurge today and get some fries from the halal cart.

“You know, you’ve been extra crabby lately.” The sound of Richie’s voice told John that he was still facing him. John knew that if he turned around, he’d see Richie with one leg crossed over the other, his foot bouncing, an expression on his face that John had once dubbed The Untrained Psychologist.

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