Page 42 of Better Hate than Never

“ ’Scuse me,” a small voice calls.

I turn around, covering my quiche-stuffed chipmunk cheeks with one hand, signaling with a lift of my finger that I need a moment.

A kid who stands as tall as my hip peers up at me, wide brown eyes and a cheery smile.

“Sorry about that,” I tell them, after forcing myself to swallow my barely chewed food. “What’s up?”

“You got journals?” they ask.

I nod. “Yep. Right over there.” I point toward the second row of thin shelves taking up the right side of the store.

The kid frowns up at me. “What’s on your neck?”

“What? Oh.” I peer down at my camera. “That’s a camera. I take pictures for my job.”

“I thought you sold journals for your job.”

That makes me laugh. “Guess I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”

“That’s my name. Jack. Not Jackie. He/him/his.” He offers his hand, and I take it.

“Nice to meet you, Jack Not Jackie. I’m Kate Not Katie. She/her/hers.”

Jack’s smile is pure joy. “Cool.”

His eyes dance to my camera, brightening with curiosity. “Can I take some pictures with your camera?”

“Sure.” I lift my camera off my neck and crouch, handing it to him. “This is a really valuable camera, so can you be super careful?”

He nods. “Yeah.” Frowning down at the camera, he taps a button, bringing the digital display to life. “You can see your pictures when you take them? Like a phone camera?”

“Yep, same deal. What do you want to take a picture of?”

He bites his lip and looks around, then settles on me. “You.”

I laugh, surprised. “Me?”

He nods, then without preamble, lifts the camera, and with that confidence I love in kids, snaps a picture. “Now can you take a picture of me?”

“Sure. So long as whoever takes care of you is okay with it.”

“We are,” a voice says, making me glance up. A gorgeous couple stands together, smiling our way. Jack is the perfect blend of them.

“I’m Hugh, Jack’s dad,” the man says. “And this is Jack’s mom, Tia.”

Tia waves.

I smile up at them. “Hi, Hugh and Tia.”

“Yay!” Jack yells. “C’mon, picture time!”

“Okay, Jack, where do you want to stand? Anywhere along this wall is good, so you won’t be backlit.”

He rushes over to the display, near the bouquet of flowers that were waiting for me when I got here. “How’s this?” he asks. “By the pretty flowers.”

“That’s perfect.”

Jack puffs up his chest proudly and smiles, hands on his hips. “This is my first picture with my new haircut.”

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