Page 25 of My Merry Mistake
It did make me wonder where I can sign up for an interview with her, though. She looked amazing.
I didn’t go to that place for chai. I went because Raya’s assistant, Jill, told me she’d be working there this morning.
I went because I had this stupid idea I was going to get a chai and sit down across from her and what—telepathically change her mind about me? Convince her I’m a good guy with spiced tea and whole milk?
Figure out how to ask her out in a way that finally makes her understand I’m serious?
It went so much better in my head.
I’m starting to think if I’m going to have a shot with her, I’m going to need a personality overhaul, because the one I’ve got just annoys her.
Maybe Hawke can teach me to be more brooding, or Dallas can give me pointers on how to chisel my jawline.
Unfortunately, I have a feeling that what Raya wants is not the same as what her sisters want.
My phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call, the screen lit up with a photo of my parents. I click on the button and accept the call, then wait for my mom to stop walking with the phone at her side.
It’s what she does now—hits the button to start the call and then walks to another room in the house.
The dizzying, swinging video fumbles to a stop and she comes into view, face about an inch from the camera. Her forehead is pinched, and I can see straight up her nose. She’s clearly trying to sort something out on her phone.
“Hey, Momma,” I say.
“Oh! Finneus James!” She tilts her head and looks at me, oblivious to how she looked two seconds ago. “You look tired.”
“Momma, leave him alone.” My younger sister, Rowena, shoves her face in front of the camera. “Hey, big brother. You playing tonight?”
“Hope to,” I say. “You gonna watch?”
“We’reallgonna watch,” Momma says before Rowe can answer.
But my sister shakes her head and moves off-screen. I’m still sitting in my Jeep Cherokee outside Meg’s Café, and I start it and flip on the heat. The weather took a turn this week, and Chicago is no joke when it starts to get cold.
“Just called to check in on ya,” Momma says. People from here would say she’s got an accent, but I didn’t notice it untilI’d been away from Montana for a few years. “Did ya see Jane’s email about the community center?” She asks.
I nod. “I did. Sounds like things are going well.”
She moves closer to the screen. “Yep, those free ranch hands got a great thing in that community center.”
I laugh. “They’re called ‘kids,’ Momma.”
“Well, you’re doing an amazing thing for our little community, Skip.”
My mind trips on the silly nickname, but I wave her off. “Nah, I’m just trying to give back a little.”
She shakes her head. “So modest.” She points at the camera. “One of your best qualities.” Her expression shifts. “Are you gonna make it home for Thanksgiving? There are a few things about the community center we should talk about . . .”
I shake my head. “We’ve got a game the day before and the day after, so I don’t think I can.”
She tuts. “They really should give you time off to spend with your family. It’s a crying shame—” She passes the phone to my dad, but I hear her mutter something about “family values” in the background.
“Hey there, Skipper,” Dad says. “You keeping your nose clean?”
“No time for anything but hockey,” I say, even though that’s not exactly true.
“So that’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes.” I chuckle.
