Page 79 of Own the Eights Gets Married
No longer the skin and bone lightweight, Simon shifted his strong frame from foot to foot.
“I was thinking since we’re both going to be at the Shakespeare Shuffle and then we’re going to Mr. Marks and Miss Jensen’s wedding, it would make sense for us to go together.”
“That would be epic,” Talya answered, back to twisting her sleeve.
“Epic!” the boy answered wide-eyed.
“Totally epic,” Talya replied as Simon’s phone pinged.
The teens stared at each other.
“Simon, your cell phone,” Georgie said, pointing to the forgotten device in the teen’s hand and praying they were done dropping the word epic.
“Right!” He glanced at the phone, then frowned. “It’s my grandma. She says she needs me.”
“Is she okay?” Talya asked.
The teen shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You better go,” Georgie said, patting his shoulder. “And if you or your grandma need anything, reach out to—”
“I know, I know,” Simon said, cutting her off. “Reach out to you or Mr. Marks.”
Georgie nodded as the kids grabbed their backpacks and headed toward the exit.
She suddenly felt quite alone.
She glanced at the bright wall, decorated with children’s drawings.
The wall that separated her shop from Jordan’s CrossFit gym.
He was, most likely, on the other side.
Physically, only a few feet away—but emotionally, miles apart.
She stared at the barrier between them, her vision becoming blurry from strain or possibly the threat of tears until a wet familiar little nose nuzzled into her hand.
She scratched between Mr. Tuesday’s ears. “Do you feel like a meandering walk, sweet boy?”
The pup’s ears perked up as he ran around her in an excited loop.
A walk would do them both good. They’d been spending sixteen hours a day at the bookshop. If her restless limbs needed to move, Mr. Tuesday’s must as well.
She headed to the front of the store, where Becca met her with Mr. Tuesday’s leash.
“I heard the commotion. You must have said theW-word.”
Georgie took the leash and fastened it to Mr. Tuesday’s collar. “We’ve been pretty cooped up and could use the exercise.”
“You could always go next door and ask to see a trainer. I’m sure there’s one there who would welcome your visit,” Becca said with a sympathetic expression.
Georgie shook her head. “Just the park today. I won’t be long.”
Becca nodded as she walked them to the door. “Take your time. Mrs. Gilbert’s knitting group is at their Michael Bolton Fan Club meeting tonight. So, we won’t be slammed, running back and forth, supplying them with pastries and coffee. Man, those women can knock back a doughnut hole or ten.”
Georgie chuckled and shook her head, grateful for her friend’s humor, then stepped outside.
Layered in shades of blue and gray, the dusk sky was the perfect backdrop for the Tennyson neighborhood shops, now beginning to flick on their outdoor lighting. The upbeat, eclectic vibe usually lifted her spirits.
