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Authors: Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant
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known that Patrick would spend time at my place and hadn’t wanted Ade and Owen to haul stuff back and forth. This occasion was an excellent example of why I needed the baby supplies; having Patrick here would justify my purchases as necessary expenses.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Adrianna asked. “Because I could try to get another appointment.”
“No way. I want time with my buddy,” I insisted. “See you then.”
I took a scalding shower. Although the fire had been extinguished by the time I’d reached Digger’s, the horrible odor that had enveloped his street seemed to cling to me. I washed my hair twice and doused myself in orange- and-honey-scented bath gel. Later, I spent a few hours trying to focus on my schoolwork, but images of burning buildings won out against rational thought, and I made almost no headway in my reading. I scanned the notes I had taken on the clients I saw at my internship and tried to think about other people’s problems instead of my own.
Just as I was setting up Patrick’s Pack ’n Play—a little portable crib and infant play area (not that I was expecting to let the gorgeous one out of my arms)—Kyle called.
“Chloe, I am so sorry about this morning. Not only for the fire that killed your friend, but also for my father’s behavior. It’s the way he is, but it was inexcusable. I just dropped him at the airport, so at least he’s out of our hair for the time being.”
My stomach churned when Kyle said killed, but I appreciated his apology. “Thanks so much. I’m still in shock,” I said. “I can’t really process what’s happened yet.”
“Of course. Listen, if you’re up for it, I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. I have a seven o’clock reservation at Incline, in the Seaport district.”
“That would be lovely,” I said honestly. “I’ll meet you there?”
“I’ll come pick you up, if you like,” Kyle offered. Ohhh . . . so maybe this was a date? “I have some more material to give you. The papers from the other night were only the tip of the iceberg. That is, if you’re still interested in working on the cookbook?”
“Of course I’m still interested.”
“Great. I don’t want you to have to schlep all this stuff home with you, so this way I can drop it at your house. Six thirty sound okay?”
“Sure.” I gave him my address and hung up, perfectly happy to have an excuse to cut my studying short. Patrick and Ade would be here soon, and I’d have to figure out what I was wearing to dinner with Kyle. Incline was a chic, intimate little restaurant that practically screamed romance—small tables, candles everywhere, soft background music, the whole shebang. When I’d gone there with my gay friend Doug, we’d nodded politely at our server’s efforts to promote our supposed romance. The two of us hadn’t really longed to be left alone, and we hadn’t been eager to share a heart-shaped dessert. Luckily, I’d never eaten there with Josh, so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed with memories of— Damn! I shut my eyes, refusing to tear up over my ex. Again, I briefly wondered about the possibility that Josh had been at Digger’s last night, but I dismissed the idea. If Digger had known that Josh was going to be in town, he’d have said so when we’d talked on the phone.
I picked through my wardrobe and chose a short black skirt that I paired with a white shell and a cream-colored sheer cardigan. I’d put on tall black boots and look like a million bucks for Kyle. Josh could go to hell.
SEVEN
“ NOW that is a gorgeous baby!” Kyle beamed at Patrick, who snuggled cozily in my arms, wrapped in a new fleece blanket that I’d unearthed from the closet of baby stuff.
“Isn’t he the best?” I rubbed the peach fuzz on the baby’s head and then kissed his nose. “I cannot get enough of him.”
“Is, uh . . . is he yours?” Kyle stood in my living room holding an alarmingly large cardboard box that presumably held cookbook
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Adrianna asked. “Because I could try to get another appointment.”
“No way. I want time with my buddy,” I insisted. “See you then.”
I took a scalding shower. Although the fire had been extinguished by the time I’d reached Digger’s, the horrible odor that had enveloped his street seemed to cling to me. I washed my hair twice and doused myself in orange- and-honey-scented bath gel. Later, I spent a few hours trying to focus on my schoolwork, but images of burning buildings won out against rational thought, and I made almost no headway in my reading. I scanned the notes I had taken on the clients I saw at my internship and tried to think about other people’s problems instead of my own.
Just as I was setting up Patrick’s Pack ’n Play—a little portable crib and infant play area (not that I was expecting to let the gorgeous one out of my arms)—Kyle called.
“Chloe, I am so sorry about this morning. Not only for the fire that killed your friend, but also for my father’s behavior. It’s the way he is, but it was inexcusable. I just dropped him at the airport, so at least he’s out of our hair for the time being.”
My stomach churned when Kyle said killed, but I appreciated his apology. “Thanks so much. I’m still in shock,” I said. “I can’t really process what’s happened yet.”
“Of course. Listen, if you’re up for it, I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. I have a seven o’clock reservation at Incline, in the Seaport district.”
“That would be lovely,” I said honestly. “I’ll meet you there?”
“I’ll come pick you up, if you like,” Kyle offered. Ohhh . . . so maybe this was a date? “I have some more material to give you. The papers from the other night were only the tip of the iceberg. That is, if you’re still interested in working on the cookbook?”
“Of course I’m still interested.”
“Great. I don’t want you to have to schlep all this stuff home with you, so this way I can drop it at your house. Six thirty sound okay?”
“Sure.” I gave him my address and hung up, perfectly happy to have an excuse to cut my studying short. Patrick and Ade would be here soon, and I’d have to figure out what I was wearing to dinner with Kyle. Incline was a chic, intimate little restaurant that practically screamed romance—small tables, candles everywhere, soft background music, the whole shebang. When I’d gone there with my gay friend Doug, we’d nodded politely at our server’s efforts to promote our supposed romance. The two of us hadn’t really longed to be left alone, and we hadn’t been eager to share a heart-shaped dessert. Luckily, I’d never eaten there with Josh, so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed with memories of— Damn! I shut my eyes, refusing to tear up over my ex. Again, I briefly wondered about the possibility that Josh had been at Digger’s last night, but I dismissed the idea. If Digger had known that Josh was going to be in town, he’d have said so when we’d talked on the phone.
I picked through my wardrobe and chose a short black skirt that I paired with a white shell and a cream-colored sheer cardigan. I’d put on tall black boots and look like a million bucks for Kyle. Josh could go to hell.
SEVEN
“ NOW that is a gorgeous baby!” Kyle beamed at Patrick, who snuggled cozily in my arms, wrapped in a new fleece blanket that I’d unearthed from the closet of baby stuff.
“Isn’t he the best?” I rubbed the peach fuzz on the baby’s head and then kissed his nose. “I cannot get enough of him.”
“Is, uh . . . is he yours?” Kyle stood in my living room holding an alarmingly large cardboard box that presumably held cookbook
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