Of course.
“Want me to hit answer?” Gabe asks from the passenger seat as we cruise down a winding road in the town where we both grew up.
“Of course,” I say, and he swipes up. I call out cheerily, “You’re on speaker, Mama Snow. Gabe’s here.”
“Hello, Gabe, you cutie-pie,” she says.
I snort-laugh.
He hisses at me, then says aloud in a chipper voice, “Hello, Mrs. Snow.” I’ve never heard him use that voice with me. That must be the good-boy voice. The one that convinced the book club ladies he was a sweet, wholesome lad.
Ha ha.
“It’s going to be such a treat to see you both. And,” my mom says, then takes a pause, “do you mind popping into Trader Joe’s and picking up an extra pink lemonade? It’s a mile from where you are.”
“Mom!”
“Sweetheart, you never turned off the sharing,” she says, like this is all my fault.
Yup. I only have myself to blame. “Of course, Mom,” I say, happy to help.
We make a quick pit stop and when we hop back into my car, a reminder flashes across my phone.
Email Sidney.
I can’t put this off much longer. “That’s the producer forFabio’s List,” I explain to Gabe as I pull back onto the road to Mom’s.
“Yeah? What did you decide?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I say, but the second those words come out, they feel wrong.
Why am I hiding fromFabio’s List?
The show is airing whether I say anything or not. I dated Dexter whether I appear on camera or not. I’ll probably be named regardless. I can’t hide from the doc, which has tongues wagging already. Might as well say my piece.
I lift my chin as I drive. “Actually, Iamgoing to do it. So what if I dated a scam artist? I’m moving on into this new life here, bruises on my butt and all.”
“Do they hurt?”he asks, looking at me.
I shake my head and turn on the blinker. “Nope. But I like knowing they’re there.”
“Mmm. Me too.” He sounds happy—but romantic too. I catch him studying me as if he’s hunting for something in my expression.
“What is it?” I ask curiously.
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. “Just thinking.” He says it like it’s a good thing, with the same warm tone he takes when he’s talking aboutus.
Bubbles of hope swim in my bloodstream. Has he been thinkingcould there be moretoo? Oh, god. Oh, wow. That’s almost too much to consider.
“About what?” I ask, trying to mask the hope in my voice.
Gabe shrugs like he’s holding in a secret. He’s still grinning. “Just how fun this week was.”
I fight off a goofy smile. “It was amazing.”
“And you’re pretty fired up right now,” he says.
“I am,” I say, desperate to addbecause of you, because of that call, because of all these good things.