Page 38 of When Wildflowers Bloom

“Bah!” The grump in his voice returns with another swat through the air. “If I’m going on a date, it’s with someone with better tits than yours.”

When I laugh, I swear he smiles through his frown.

Twelve

I watch Veda’s mannerismsunder a microscope, hoping for something that lends to an opening of conversation about the medication, but I can’t find one. No cough, no unexplained winces of pain, just arthritic hands.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she snaps as I wedge the clay.

“I’m not staring,” I lie. “I’m wondering if you ever smile.”

When she surprises me by laughing, I do the same, sarcasm our currency.

I make another bowl on the wheel, this one with less frustration, and the original pinch pot I made is done in the kiln. It’s hideous, covered in a color that resembles actual shit, but I give it to my dad anyway when we have dinner that night. Like the good dad he is, he beams at it.

“Little Bird, you are an artist!” he says proudly with a lift of his scotch-filled mason jar.

“That’s one word for it,” I say with a smile.

Bo texts me about dinner every single night; I ignore him. After him asking about Veda’s health then me finding the medication, I can’t talk to him. Not yet. Possibly not ever.

Then, Mabel.

After we play rummy and have Scottish smut book club, Mabel spends our entire time talking about Bo and her curiosity over what kind of marks his beard would leave on different areas of her skin. Whenherfantasies make it hard formeto think straight, I let her watchFifty Shades of Grey, which shuts her up long enough for me to clean and make her meals for the weekend.

All the while, she writes God knows what in her little notebook.

After walking the dog with Huck and spending an hour at the gym, I cross the parking lot of the grocery store. Relaxed before I even make it to the doors.

I wave at Monica as I walk in, turning then stopping mid-step as I approach the carts. There, with a stupid smirk, toothpick, and playful fire in his eyes, stands Bo.

I school my expression, passing him like my heart didn’t skip a beat at the sight of him, and grab a cart. “Grocery shopping on a Friday night again, Bo?” I ask without meeting his eyes, pulling a cart from the line and pointing in the direction of the produce. “Might give people the idea you need a life.”

“Birdie, good to see you too.” Amusement leaks into his voice as he follows me.

I stop at the bin of potatoes, picking one up and rolling it in my hands. “Is this one of your little list items?”

He snorts. “No. You’ve been ignoring me, and I need…” He grabs a random fruit from a nearby basket, tilting his head slightly to read the label. “A dragon fruit.”

He holds up the spikey pink ball with a proud grin.

I bite back a smile, putting two potatoes in a bag and setting it in my cart. “I’m sure you do.”

“Does it bother you that I’m here?”

I look at him. I want to say yes. Pulling my head side to side to combat the tightness that’s creeping across my shoulders and up my neck from his presence alone, I want to tell him to leave me alone. Instead, I hear myself say, “No.”

After a silence of us pushing carts around the produce bins, I ask, “Do you remember your parents?”

His chin pulls back, eyes widening slightly.

I shrug.

“If you’re going to keep showing up here, I might as well get to know you.”

With a slight smile. “Fair.” Then, “And a little. I was just a kid when my dad died, but I remember random things—one year cutting a Christmas tree down with him, another year a birthday party with my mom and him hanging a piñata.” He shrugs. “Almost every good memory I have from my childhood is with Gran. My grandad taught me to fish, but when he died, Gran kept taking me. Things like that. Who knows where I’d be without her. Not just me—Lucy. She’s filled in my gaps since Mandy left.”

I avoid his gaze as I compare two blocks of cheese.

---