Page 73 of Finding Jack
“That’s a super romantic image.”
“And yet it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes that stable is so full of electricity, it feels like the hay is going to catch on fire.”
“Because of rolling in it?”
“Shut up.”
“Look, suffer in silence if you want. Kiss Paul if you want. I support you.”
She rose from the table and rinsed her mug. “I’m going to go get my jacket.”
When she disappeared down the hall, I whipped out my cell phone. My revenge was almost complete. Almost.
Chapter 27
There’s no delicate way to put this: you should kiss Ranée.
I pushed “send” on the text to Paul, and waited, curious to see what would happen.
It took a few minutes that I spent entertaining myself by imagining Paul’s reaction to the text. Confusion? Relief? Curiosity? Embarrassment? That really cute mortification like high school kids get when word of their crush leaks out?
Is it possible that when my phone went off I was wearing an expression of impish glee?
YES. Yes, it was.
But honestly, how could I not be grinning like a fool? Ranée deserved a good guy, and Paul and I may have brought out the most boring parts of each other, but it sounded like he and Ranée were a potential fit. I wanted them to find out if it was a great fit.
I slid my messages open, but it wasn’t a text from Paul. It was from Jack.Can we talk? Maybe Facetime or something?
What? Why now? I’d been putting him out of my thoughts for days. I had a cabinet of plasticware chaos behind me to prove it. But it’s not like I was going to say no to that.
Sure,I typed. I didn’t even hesitate to press send.
When?His response was just as fast.
Ranée walked past me, zipping up her hoodie. “I’m off to the barn.”
“I want every detail when you get back.”
She gave me a strange look. “There’s not going to be anything to tell. There’s never anything to tell.” And she shut the front door behind her.
Now is good,I texted Jack.And I refuse to put on makeup for this.
Fair. This is a come-as-you-are kind of call.
Thirty seconds later the FaceTime ring sounded. I barely had time to feel anything but confusion. “Hi,” I said. Then I burst out laughing at the sight of Jack’s T-shirt. It was white with a kid’s marker drawing of a stick figure with longish hair. It said, “Dr. Jack” in kid scrawl, the J backwards, and Jack’s stick figure wore a pink cape. “Nice shirt.”
He glanced down at it and gave me a tight smile. “I did promise a come-as-you-are call. This is one of my favorite shirts.”
My own laughter fizzled away. Was it a good sign that he’d worn something in front of me referencing his doctor life? Or a bad sign that every part of him from his tired eyes to his forced smile spoke of stress? His hair was down again, but it looked like it hadn’t seen a comb for a day or two.
“It looks comfortable,” I said. But that felt awkward to leave hanging there, so I dove in. “Why did you want to talk?”
“Because not talking seems stupid?”
“Is that a question?”
He sighed. “No. Or if it is, I know the answer. It’s pretty stupid that we haven’t talked for a few days.”
