Page 20 of Adrift

I laugh, awkwardly. Truth be told, I’ve been the plus-sized sidekick to both my cellulite-free runway model best friend and cousin for so long, I’ve gotten used to not getting attention from men, so this whole exchange is throwing me off. “Yeah, maybe.”

I pick up Melody’s call on the fourth ring, just as Liam walks away. Actually, it’s more like Liam gets dragged away by his dog. “Hey!”

“Well, you sound awfully cheerful. Let me guess . . . you got laid!”

“No. Is that seriously all you think about?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but no. I was just talking to this tall redhead guy I met at the park who seemed a little . . . flustered? I think he was trying to flirt, but then you called.”

“Wait, you were about to get laid and I cock-blocked you?” she asks, almost panicking.

I get up and start pushing Arman’s stroller toward the sidewalk in the direction of the house. “No, dufus. Why would I be getting laid in a park at one PM in the afternoon?”

She pauses, and I know what she’s going to say before she even says it. “Why wouldn’t you?”

My mouth twists, holding back a laugh. I already feel ten times better than I have over the past few days. I absolutely love spending time with my nephew, and I know what I signed up for, but Darian’s mood swing has definitely given me whiplash.

“What’s up, queenie?” Melody uses the nickname she gave me in middle school after I told her what my name meant. “How’s it going over there? How’s that fine brother-in-law of yours?”

I grimace. “Things are fine, I guess. I mean, I’m having a ton of fun with this little cutie.” I bend to look at my nephew, knowing Melody knows who I’m talking about. He’s happily gazing at the clouds in the sky, chewing on his fingers, but I can already see his eyelids are getting heavier. “I’m just not so sure how Darian feels about it.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure how Darian feels about it? You generously offered to take care of his son and he hired you, knowing what that would entail. So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.” I tuck a lock of curls behind my ear when it flies in the breeze. “He’s just been . . . weird. I mean, I don’t know the guy well enough to know what weird really means. This might just be how he operates, but I get the feeling he’s avoiding me. Like, aside from the fifteen minutes we spend having dinner together in the evenings–where he’s mostly scrolling through his phone–he barely makes eye contact with me. It’s like he’s scared to be in the same room as me.”

I hear a familiar clang on the phone, guessing Melody’s at the gym. She works as a zumba instructor there three times a week during the school year and full-time during the summer. The misfortune of being her best friend is that I ‘get’ to attend her classes for free any time I want, so of course, she guilts me into going any chance she gets. And as expected, it takes me a good half hour to lower my heart rate back to non-threatening levels.

I call bullshit on all those people who come out of her class, with most of the fluid from inside their bodies stuck on the outside, pretending it was the best thing they’ve ever done. It wasn’t; it was brutal and inhumane.

“Maybe he is.”

“Maybe he is, what?” I take a turn toward the familiar two-story, dark brown house with the massive golden maple doors when Arman squeals, “How!” with his index finger pointed at it. I love how much he’s trying to speak, and if I could make a recording of all his adorable first words, I’d play them in a loop.

“Scared,” Melody states, like it’s the most obvious thing. “Listen, I know you’re going to fight admitting your attraction to him, even to me, but you and I both know it’s there. But I think–”

“No, it’s not! Why are you and Bella so hellbent on–”

She bulldozes right past me, continuing her previous thought, “But I think there’s some mutual attraction there from him, too.”

“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous. I’m his sister-in-law, almost thirteen years younger than him, and definitely not his type.”

Melody makes a ‘pssh’ sound like she’s dismissing the facts I’ve pointed out. “You might be the first two, but how do you know you’re not his type?”

I snort. “Um, because he looks like him, and I look like . . . well, me.”

“Rani–”

This time I keep going, not letting her speak. “No, listen. I know I’m cute. I’m not saying it to put myself down. I’m just affirming that, given the fact that he was married to my extremely sporty, well-proportioned sister, I can guessteculate his type, and I’m not it.”

“First, ‘guessteculate’ is not a word, and second, hear me out. I saw it when he was wrapping your wrist in his office after the fall you took from the kayak. There was something in his eyes. I know fuck-me eyes when I see them, Rani, and he had them.”

“No, he didn’t, Mel.” I walk up the driveway toward the doors. “You’re a lunatic.”

“Or I’m right. In either case, you should explore this thing with the ginger you just met.”

“Why?” A vision of Liam comes to the forefront of my mind, and I twist my mouth, not knowing what to think.

---