Page 78 of Hold the Pickle
“Next time dress better,” Jeannie says.
His face lights up. “I will.” He seems chuffed that she has hinted that he should return as he passes back through the door.
“You practically proposed marriage, you know,” I tell her. “He was only expecting to be thrown out.”
She frowns. “I was trying to insult him.”
“He caught you off guard.” I want to laugh at this entire situation, but I know better. It’s cute. I’m rooting for Hex.
I finish my pickles and carry the bins to the walk-in. I came in early, so I’m officially off duty.
When the gloves are in the trash and my apron is in the laundry pile, I collect my purse and head out the back door.
The sun is shining broadly, and I feel so happy I want to skip. Dalton won’t be home, not until tomorrow morning, but there are kitties to play with, food to cook, and a day with him to look forward to.
Is this love? I wonder. My body is light, like I’m not quite walking on the ground.
Jeannie noticed. I have told no one about Dalton’s move from roommate to lover. But maybe it’s becoming obvious. And I almost told Hex right in front of her.
I should tell my family.
No, they might judge me. The roommate situation was bad enough.
I can imagine my dad giving me a speech. “Nadia, you’re being irresponsible and flighty. You barely knew this boy when you moved in, and now you’re in love? What has gotten into you?”
Mom would get it. She’s a romantic.
Probably not Max, though. I better keep it to myself for a while longer. When a few months have passed, it might be all right to say we’re dating. It will make more sense.
I open up my Jeep, patting the little rubber ducks Dalton has been leaving on my dash. I didn’t even know Jeeps and ducks were a thing until he left the first one, tiny and bright and decorated with a smattering of red hearts.
That one has been joined by a duck holding a black kitty, and another reading a book.
Our life together, in ducks.
I play the soundtrack toThe Music Manas I drive home. Dalton and I watched it a few nights ago. I don’t think he’s into musicals, but he is into me, and that’s enough.
I feel so lucky. How did this happen? So what if I’m working in a deli? I’m paying the bills. The future can wait.
It occurs to me that I could end up a doctor’s wife.
Whoa.
Slow down, girl. You’re in the glory days. The easy part.
But as the colorful awnings of bright shops whiz by, anything seems possible.
When I pull up to the slot near our apartment, I peer through the windshield. Did some paint come off the front door? There’s a strange triangle of white.
I jump out of the Jeep. Only when I get closer do I realize it’s a piece of paper flapping in the breeze. A notice.
It could be anything. Painting the railing. Pest control. Upgrading an appliance. Routine maintenance.
But my belly quakes just the same.
I reach out and pull it down. The cats have heard my footsteps and meow for me to come in.
But I wait a moment so I can scan it.
