Page 89 of Best Served Cold

I sigh and set my guitar down, leaning back in the grass next to the dog, who licks my face.

“You’re in a strange mood,” Emil comments, his fingers still playing music like he can’t bear to stop.

“You’ve heard about my week. Sure you still want to come stay with me?”

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, man. It won’t be boring. And you own, like, four guitars.”

“Five, but who’s counting.”

“Plus I miss Travis and the other kids at the Beat.”

“We miss you too, buddy. Everyone’s been in a funk without you.”

The sun beats down on me, chasing away some of the darkness and the specter of a sleepless night. A consequence of having come home from Sophie’s and staying up late working on the song I’d started the night of her wedding to herself. My happy song.

All night, I couldn’t get that image of her jumping on the bed out of my head. I wanted to see her do it again. I’m only a man, so I also kept thinking of the way her head had arced back as she came, the sweet sound she made its own kind of music.

I’m soaking in the memories when Emil whistles and stops strumming. “Is thather?”

I sit up. And gawk.

ItisSoph, and she’s walking toward us on the path, wearing a little blue sundress that fits her like a dream, flaring out at the knees. And…shit. She’s wearing the shoes.

“That’syour fake girlfriend?” Emil asks in an undertone. “What are you thinking, man? You’ve got to do something about that.”

I have to laugh. He has a point. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. I don’t have a complete thought in my head right now, other than that I have another song to write. One about a little blue dress and a pair of shoes she bought to wear for another man.

Her face lights up when she sees us, and…

You know what? She’s supposed to be my girlfriend. I have every reason to greet her like one. There are plenty of people around to be our audience.

I get up and stalk toward her with purpose. When I get close, she says, “I know it’s a little much, but?—”

I reach for her waist and twirl her around, and she starts laughing. “You’re wearing the little blue dress,” I say as I set her down, crowding her a little so my words are only for her. “You were talking it up so much, I thought it couldn’t possibly live up to its reputation, but I’m glad I was wrong.”

“It’s not the same one I wore last night,” she says as if I might actually care about her laundry habits.

“So you’ve decided to wear nothing but blue to match my face? Are we one of those couples who color-coordinates?”

She gives me a playful nudge, and I lean my forehead down to hers. “And the shoes,” I whisper. “Are you wearing them to taunt me?”

“Maybe,” she says with a wry twist of her mouth.

“It’s working.” I kiss her cheek and pull back, taking her small hand in mine. “I’m happy to see you. I was worried things might be weird because of last night.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have put it out there, like a cat dropping a mouse at its favorite person’s feet. But there it is. I was worried she wouldn’t come, or that she wouldn’t be herself around me anymore.

“Nope. No weirdness.” She checks out her sexy little dress and the heels. “Actually maybe thisisweird. I should have worn a T-shirt and shorts. I feel really embarrassed suddenly. Who even goes to the park like this?”

“Women who are so sexy they have to marry themselves so they don’t lower their standards.”

She lets out a single bark of laughter, then covers her mouth, her eyes wide but delighted.

She really is charming. I feel my mood lifting just from being around her.

Releasing my hand and crossing her arms over her chest, she says in an undertone, “I let Hannah and Briar help me get ready. They were very insistent.”

“You look good,” I say, caressing her arm. “But you always look good.”

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