the bar. “You’re going to have to take some breaths from time to time or you’re going to pass out trying to tell Jessie everything.”
“I know, right?” Heather said, laughing. And she was actually a little breathless.
Myra ordered a pitcher of mojitos for us.
At the far end of the bar there was a wall of windows, and I could see the greenish glow from the falls all lit up. I wanted to go look, but Myra and Heather didn’t seem at all interested in the view. They’d probably seen it a million times.
While we were standing at the bar, waiting for our drinks, a guy in a navy peacoat snuck up behind Heather. He wasn’t very tall, but he was striking. He had broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, a mess of brown hair, and a five o’clock shadow that outlined his jaw. He smiled at Myra and slipped his arms around Heather’s waist. I almost yelled, “Robbie, how are you?” because I thought it would be good to pretend to recognize him. But I wimped out. Or possibly I had suddenly become the luckiest person alive, because Heather turned around and screamed, “Fish! You have to stop doing that! One of these days I’m going to grab your package or something.”
“Do you usually grab Robbie’s package in public?” Fish asked, smiling. He had a really great mouth. His lips curled up at the corners like he was up to something or he had a secret he might tell you if you asked the right questions.
“No,” Heather said, giving him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, “but, you know. Old married people get frisky sometimes.” Even in the dim bar lights it was obvious she was turning red.
I hopped off my barstool, thinking I’d get to hug him, and not hating the idea of having him wrap his arms around me.
He saw me, suddenly, and did a quick double take. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, but then he focused completely on Heather and acted like he hadn’t seen me. I worried I wasn’t passing for Jessie as well as I’d thought.
“I’m totally telling Robbie that I grabbed your package,” Heather said, smiling.
“It’s your funeral,” Fish said. Then he laughed and shook his head. “No, that would really be my funeral, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, it would,” Heather said, laughing.
“So,” Myra said, grinning, “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed who’s here.”
Fish shot me a pointed look, like a warning, and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He looked away for a second, and I wanted so desperately to meet his eyes again. I’d never felt that kind of electricity before. Deagan made me a little nervous when I first met him, but this was different. This was more than butterflies. It was like all of a sudden everything everyone in movies and songs and sitcoms and books said about chemistry made sense. My chemicals desperately wanted to get closer to his chemicals.
“God,” Fish said, rubbing his chin with his hand, looking at Myra’s brooch on my skirt. “You look different, Jess.” There was something flat about the way he said it.
“Thanks,” I said, trying hard to smile.
“Yeah.” He gave me a bewildered look, meeting my eyes again for a split second. “Take it as a compliment.” He shook his head and reached over to give Myra a kiss on the cheek.
From what I’d put together from my conversations with Myra, Fish was Jessie’s ex-boyfriend. But Myra seemed so excited to surprise him, so I didn’t think there was any bad blood. I thought he’d be happy to see Jessie. I wanted him to be happy to see me.
Our pitcher of mojitos showed up and so did Robbie. He towered over everyone. He wore ripped jeans, work boots, and a Carhartt jacket. He was completely underdressed for the bar, but he had a sweet round face, like a teddy bear, and adorable deep dimples that made me think most people would be willing to forgive his faux pas. “Jessinator!” he said, in what was absolutely not an indoor voice. He gave me a hug, lifting me off my barstool and
“I know, right?” Heather said, laughing. And she was actually a little breathless.
Myra ordered a pitcher of mojitos for us.
At the far end of the bar there was a wall of windows, and I could see the greenish glow from the falls all lit up. I wanted to go look, but Myra and Heather didn’t seem at all interested in the view. They’d probably seen it a million times.
While we were standing at the bar, waiting for our drinks, a guy in a navy peacoat snuck up behind Heather. He wasn’t very tall, but he was striking. He had broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, a mess of brown hair, and a five o’clock shadow that outlined his jaw. He smiled at Myra and slipped his arms around Heather’s waist. I almost yelled, “Robbie, how are you?” because I thought it would be good to pretend to recognize him. But I wimped out. Or possibly I had suddenly become the luckiest person alive, because Heather turned around and screamed, “Fish! You have to stop doing that! One of these days I’m going to grab your package or something.”
“Do you usually grab Robbie’s package in public?” Fish asked, smiling. He had a really great mouth. His lips curled up at the corners like he was up to something or he had a secret he might tell you if you asked the right questions.
“No,” Heather said, giving him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, “but, you know. Old married people get frisky sometimes.” Even in the dim bar lights it was obvious she was turning red.
I hopped off my barstool, thinking I’d get to hug him, and not hating the idea of having him wrap his arms around me.
He saw me, suddenly, and did a quick double take. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, but then he focused completely on Heather and acted like he hadn’t seen me. I worried I wasn’t passing for Jessie as well as I’d thought.
“I’m totally telling Robbie that I grabbed your package,” Heather said, smiling.
“It’s your funeral,” Fish said. Then he laughed and shook his head. “No, that would really be my funeral, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, it would,” Heather said, laughing.
“So,” Myra said, grinning, “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed who’s here.”
Fish shot me a pointed look, like a warning, and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He looked away for a second, and I wanted so desperately to meet his eyes again. I’d never felt that kind of electricity before. Deagan made me a little nervous when I first met him, but this was different. This was more than butterflies. It was like all of a sudden everything everyone in movies and songs and sitcoms and books said about chemistry made sense. My chemicals desperately wanted to get closer to his chemicals.
“God,” Fish said, rubbing his chin with his hand, looking at Myra’s brooch on my skirt. “You look different, Jess.” There was something flat about the way he said it.
“Thanks,” I said, trying hard to smile.
“Yeah.” He gave me a bewildered look, meeting my eyes again for a split second. “Take it as a compliment.” He shook his head and reached over to give Myra a kiss on the cheek.
From what I’d put together from my conversations with Myra, Fish was Jessie’s ex-boyfriend. But Myra seemed so excited to surprise him, so I didn’t think there was any bad blood. I thought he’d be happy to see Jessie. I wanted him to be happy to see me.
Our pitcher of mojitos showed up and so did Robbie. He towered over everyone. He wore ripped jeans, work boots, and a Carhartt jacket. He was completely underdressed for the bar, but he had a sweet round face, like a teddy bear, and adorable deep dimples that made me think most people would be willing to forgive his faux pas. “Jessinator!” he said, in what was absolutely not an indoor voice. He gave me a hug, lifting me off my barstool and
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