Page 36 of Pity Play

She’s wrong. I need all my people, but I still appreciate the props. “You feel like going to the box store with me?”

“You don’t have to pack right now,” she says. “Why don’t we go see a movie or something. Get your mind off things.”

That actually sounds like a great idea. “What’s showing?”

“A Sandra Bullock marathon.The Proposalfirst, thenMissCongeniality, followed byThe Lost City. If six hours of romcoms can’t take your mind off things, nothing can.”

“I’m in!” I tell her enthusiastically. And while I’m currently full of pudding, I’m sure I can fit some buttered popcorn in there, too. I lead the way to the front door and pick my coat up off the floor. Grabbing my purse, I say, “Thanks for being my friend, Allie.”

“Thanks for being my friend, Lor.” Taking my hand, she adds, “We’re both going to find our way.”

“One day at a time.”

“One step at a time.”

And even though I’m currently facing what feels like the biggest challenge of my life, I suddenly have hope that there might be some light at the end of the tunnel. So long as it isn’t a train …

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LUKE

Walking into the kitchen at Pop’s, I find Jim flipping a burger. He’s whistling along to an old song on the radio. “Don’t worry, be happy, huh?”

“It’s the only way, son,” he says with a big smile on his face.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

“No point being in a bad mood.”

Putting an apron over my head, I ask him, “Is my dad usually happy?”

He seems to ponder the question for a moment before answering, “He’s not unhappy.”

“But is he in agoodmood?” I want to know.

“Hard to say,” Jim decides. “Your dad is his own man. You know, kind of complicated and stoic.”

“Have you always thought that?” I’m wondering how much my decision to stay in Chicago has transformed his disposition. Because before that time, I always thought my dad was pretty chill.

Jim shrugs. “People ebb and flow. They change along with the world.”

“That’s pretty cryptic, Jim.”

“I know what you’re asking me, Luke, and I know why. So, I’ll tell you what I told you yesterday. Your dad’s life is his to share. It’s none of my business.”

“You know something,” I accuse, while pulling a pile of ground meat out of the refrigerator.

He flips a burger in the air with expertise. “I know all kinds of things, son.Allkinds of things.” It feels like he’s insinuating he knows something about me, which is enough to get me to change the subject.

“You got big plans tonight?” I ask him.

With a smile on his face, he tells me, “Not a one.”

“That’s sounds like the perfect night. Enjoy yourself.”

“You know I will.” Jim assembles the burger he’s been working on before ringing the bell to alert the servers there’s an order up. Then he takes off his apron and tells me, “Life isn’t nearly as hard as you’re making it.” With that, he walks out the back door.

Life shouldn’t be hard at all, and I don’t normally think it is, but that’s changing now that I’m back in Elk Lake.

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