Page 76 of Whiskey Wednesdays

Waking before Connor the next morning, I crawled out from under his arm and leg draped over my body. I used the bathroom and cleaned up, then went in search of coffee.

Elodie sang softly in her room. I looked in her doorway, and found her sitting on the bed with a book in her lap.

“Hey, you’re up.” I sat next to her.

She scooted over and handed me the book. “I can’t read it.”

“You can’t read ityet,” I corrected.

“Most of my friends can read.”

She seemed a little upset, but I knew she’d just gotten a late start. “I know you can read some books. But if you want to read harder books, it’s like everything else. It takes practice.”

“Practice?” she looked at me.

“Yes. You need to read over and over and try to get better. Like your dad and hockey. He wasn’t always an amazing skater who could score whenever he wanted to. So he practiced a lot. Probably every single day.”

I searched for another example. “You know that trick I did with my skateboard when I twirled it around with my feet?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a neat trick. But I practiced it for months and months. I tried it maybe a thousand times before I landed it. And I fell on my bottom a lot.”

“Do I have to fall on my bottom to read?” she smiled.

“No, smart mouth. But you will have to read a lot.”

She nodded, and we settled in with a book until Connor stumbled into the bedroom, laid down across our legs, and started fake snoring. Then it devolved into a pillow fight.

Later that morning, Dad came with us and we went to brunch and a Sunday stroll through the Old Town in La Quinta. There was a farmer’s market, and we stopped and picked up some fresh produce. I’d never been to the area before, and I was utterly charmed by the little local shops, architecture, and bright flowering plants everywhere. The smell of brewing coffee and vanilla cones hung in the air as we walked through the square.

I noticed a thrift shop on the east end, and while my dad took Elodie to get an ice cream cone, I dragged Connor into the secondhand store. He watched, a little repulsed, as I thumbed through the books and clothes.

He stood behind me with his arms folded as I perused the book titles.

“What?” I finally asked without looking up.

“Do you shop in places like this often?”

I shrugged. “Not as much as I used to.”

“That’s probably good,” he murmured, eyeing a rack of secondhand swimsuits. “It smells funky in here.”

He wasn’t wrong. Most thrift stores seemed to have that musty smell, but I’d just gotten used to it. He was a bit of a snob, I realized.

I set a book back and picked up another one. “I don’t shop in places like this as much as I used to because I’m not working right now. So I usually don’t shop at all unless it’s for groceries. And maybe deodorant and toothpaste.”

Holding up a very used copy of the firstHarry Potterbook, I turned to him. “But this is only twenty-five cents, and Elodie told me she’s never seen the movie or had the book read to her, so I’m going to splurge.”

Connor looked at the battered book. “I’ll buy you the whole series.”

I suddenly felt tired, and maybe a little ashamed that I was poor. I turned back to the bookshelf. We were different in so many ways. Could we really make this work between us?

“I know you can, and thank you for offering. But I’d like to buy this for her.”

Tucking the book under my arm, I straightened. “Now I’m going to look through the men’s section to see if I can find you a shirt. You look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin, so go catch up with Elodie and Dad. I’ll meet you out on the bench in front of the ice cream shop.”

He grimaced before he could catch himself, and I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash it twice before I give it to you.”

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