Page 117 of Ancient History

“Make sure he cleans.”

I turned around and glared at Pop. “Since when do I not clean?”

“Just saying…”

Amos grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me to him for a kiss that rivaled all the fireworks lighting up the sky.

“Wait.” I removed myself from my darling boyfriend and turned back to Pop. “Who’s Sarita?”

“My doctor.” He had a coy smile on.

“Dr. Kumar from the hospital who you were blatantly flirting with an hour after having a heart attack?”

“Having a near death experience showed me I had to start living.”

“With your doctor?”

“We can’t choose who we love. Love is love is love, according to Manuel Lin-Miranda.”

“It’s Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

“She’s a lovely woman. And now that Bud doesn’t need to troll Milkman to find you a boyfriend, he can focus on his own love life.” Amos reached over and gave Pop a fist bump.

“What’s this?” I waved my finger between them. “Since when are you two friends?”

And since when did Amos fist bump?

“Now that it’s summer, I stop by for Breakfast with Bud on Fridays.”

“Breakfast with Bud is a thing?” I asked.

“He brings me Froot Loops.” Pop had the happiest grin. Apparently watching his son go insane with confusion was a parental highlight.

“Sarita and I have a date scheduled for this week.” Pop raised his eyebrows. “And I already cleared it with my doctor that I can take Viagra.”

“Dr. Kumarisyour doctor!”

“And she very much approves.” Pop broke into a hearty laugh.

“Gross.” That was one pill I would not be monitoring for him.

The backyard filled with the laughter of Pop and Amos, my two favorite people in the world. I pinched myself for how great things had turned out with my life. When I got cut from the Troubadours, it was like falling into a hole that I thought I’d never be able to climb out of. But thanks to the love of Amos, and the support of Pop and my new friends, I’d not only escaped that hole, but I’d soared to unimaginable heights.

And so long as I didn’t have to keep hearing about my elderly father’s sex life, the best was yet to come.

32

HUTCH

THREE MONTHS LATER

The alarm clock blared at full blast. I reached my hand out from spooning my boyfriend to slap it quiet. I kept missing, though, hitting every other object on my nightstand until finally I knocked the clock to the floor, where it continued to blare and beep like we were under imminent nuclear attack.

“Nice job,” Amos said in his growly sleepy voice. He shoved a pillow over his head to block out the blaring noise.

I hobbled out of bed and dug out the clock, which had managed to fall into the wastebasket and tip it behind the floor-length curtains. This thing was like the girl who fell down a well.

I pulled it from the trash and raised it high over my head, yanking the cord from the outlet and vanquishing the beast.

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