Page 119 of Phishing for Love
“We’ll forgive you for dumping us Saturday,” Sofia says, “but only if you tell useverything.”
“You and Aaron,” Kenzie breathes, making a heart with her fingers.
My gaze jumps between the two of them. “I don’t want anyone to know about us just yet.”
They mime locking their lips and throwing the key away.
“But you know it’s only a matter of time before Mevia finds out,” Sofia reminds me.
I sigh in equal parts frustration and acceptance. “I know.”
Kenzie clutches my arm. “Tess, please, the suspense is not good for my blood pressure.”
In the face of their excitement, I surrender and relay the events of the weekend.
“You took him on a hike?” Sofia confirms.
“One of my longer ones.”
“How’d he do?”
“Good.”
Sofia’s eyebrows vault up. “Promising.”
I shoulder bump her. “Mind out of the gutter.”
Then I tell them about Sunday’s backyard picnic.
“That is soooo romantic!” Kenzie gasps. She’s completely swooning over the lengths Aaron went to. The awed look on her face is the look Rapunzel wore in the animated classicTangledwhen she was let out of the tower and saw the world for the first time.
“Nathan hated hikes and picnics,” Sofia points out with a Freudian head tilt. “Interesting.”
“Yes, Sofia,” I acknowledge with a smile, “you were right. Aaron suits me better.”
She nods in satisfaction while Kenzie peppers me with more questions and dreamy sighs.
Then Sofia asks, “What happens when his contract ends?”
“I’m not sure.”
Kenzie says slowly, “But you have spoken with Aaron about it.”
I fidget with the hem of my blouse. “Not yet.”
They both fall silent.
“I will,” I reply defensively. “But we’re still at the beginning stages. There’s time enough to talk about the future.”
At lunchtime, I’m striding through reception, my focus on the elevator bank, when I hear Mevia call out my name. My steps falter. The plan is to meet Aaron at his friend’s food truck in the park. We both agreed to leave the building separately and at different times. I was hoping Mevia would be too busy to notice me, but that was a misguided hope.
“Going out for lunch?” she asks when I reluctantly drag myself over to the reception desk.
“Yep. I’m pretty hungry.”
“Do you want company?”
“I’m good, thanks. Just craving a bit of alone time.”
