Page 34 of Road Trip to Forever
It sounds obscene when she says it. I don’t think I can ever go by my last name again, the word marred with thoughts of her chanting it in my ear as a bead of sweat rolls down her neck and I lick it away with my tongue.
I clear my throat and fumble with my mug. The coffee from twenty minutes ago has turned lukewarm, but it gives my hands something to do. A task to focus on so I don’t act like a total fool.
“Patrick is just fine,” I say, my throat as dry as sandpaper.
“This is the longest stretch of time you’ve had off since Christmas. We should celebrate,” Lola says.
“How do we celebrate? We’re already going on a road trip.”
“I don’t know. We could get drunk at a bar in Southie and stumble home?”
I raise an eyebrow. “At eight o’clock in the morning?”
“Want to get party hats?”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Onesies?”
“I’m hot all the time.”
“Mimosas, then.” She snaps her fingers and leans forward in her chair, grinning like she’s discovered an eighth wonder of the world. “I’ve got it.Brunch.”
“Brunch?” I stare at her, aghast. “Do you know me at all?”
Lola waves her hands and this time the pepper shaker goes down. “I know, I know… Breakfast should be finished by eight-thirty, and meals shouldn’t overlap. It’s the Patrick Walker Creed. Come on. What do you want to do? Tell me. This is your day. Whatever it is, we’re going to do it.”
“Whatever it is?” I repeat.
“Anything,” she says.
“Well, I guess I’m spending the day with you. If you want to put on a onesie, we can.”
“You’re not sick of me yet?”
“Nope. Ask me again tomorrow.”
Lola’s lips twitch. She hides her quiet laughter with a sip of her tea. “That reminds me,” she says. “We need to pick a charity for the wedding next weekend.”
“Are we allowed to pick one together?”
“Emma gave us permission. We’re the leftovers. The single partygoers. I’m surprised the masses aren’t waiting outside for us with pitchforks,” she says.
“My grandmother is probably rolling over in her grave right now. Thirty-four and still unwed? She’d think I was sick with the plague.”
“Ah.” Lola touches her heart and bows her head. “I miss Grams.”
“So do I. I even miss her constant badgering about my relationship status.”
“I see where you get your romantic side.”
“What about Noah? He’s single. Is he pairing up with us?” I ask.
“I don’t think the rules apply to millionaires. I’m pretty sure he’s just going to write a check.”
“I knew I should have bought a lottery ticket last night. Bastard gets out of everything.”
She smirks and slides her phone across the table to me. I study the website with the pictures of kids in a classroom and pencils in their hands.
