Page 16 of The Overtime Kiss
I force myself to smile. “I’d appreciate it if you could ask her.”
“Count on it.” Rhonda beams.
“Are you a fairy godmother?”
Rhonda shakes her head kindly. “Nah. I’m just someone in the right place at the right time to help.”
When we reach the coffee shop, I ask how much for the ride.
“Free for you,” she says with a smile.
“Rhonda, you need to make a living.”
“Sabrina, I need to do nice things for other women too. This is how we help each other.”
I smile, feeling warm and fuzzy. Women helping women. I like that. “Thank you.”
She waves me off with a dismissive, “Don’t worry about it.”
But I’m crafty. Once I get out of the car, I find her on Venmo, send her a tip, and include a GIF of a rainbow-shooting cat.
Because sometimes, the smallest gestures can say the most.
“Shhh,” I whisper to Furby as he meows from under the table I’m sharing with Leighton and Isla at High Kick Coffee.
But Furby isn’t having it. He lets out another dramatic little mewl.
“Maybe meeting here wasn’t the best idea,” I admit, trying to hush the kitten in the pink crate beneath me. I’m not sure if he’s annoyed. Mostly, he’s just chatty.
“He’s fine,” Leighton says with a wave of her hand. “Birdie doesn’t mind animals, as long as they steer clear of her espresso machine.” Birdie’s the shop owner, and Leighton knows her well since she’s her boyfriend’s grandma. “Her exact words.”
“That’s fair,” Isla says, thoughtfully brushing a strand of chestnut hair off the fair skin of her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “Do you know how hard it is to get fur out of an espresso machine?”
I blink at her. “I don’t, actually. Do you?”
“Very hard,” she says with the confidence of someone who always has an answer. Well, she’s not the city’s best matchmaker for nothing. “But let’s talk about your situation.”
Leighton turns to me, she’s all business. Fiercely independent, Leighton knows a thing or two about surviving in this city. “All right. I have some ideas for you while you figure out if the garlic lifestyle is for you. And the place I have in mind is pet-friendly.”
“That’s key,” I say. Even though I’m only responsible for Furby for a few more weeks, I promised the rescue to give him a place to stay until he’s ready to be adopted.
Isla doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls out her iPad and beginstapping. “Let’s start a project planner for you. We’ll list options and figure out what makes the most sense.”
Leighton nods to Isla and asks me, “How lucky are we to have the world’s most organized person as a friend?”
“The luckiest,” I reply, grinning.
Isla brightens, radiating Disney-princess energy. She could summon chipmunks to alphabetize a forest. “We’re all the lucky ones,” she says.
“We are,” Leighton seconds then adds casually, “you can always stay with Miles and me.”
I’m floored. Leighton’s generous, of course. Caring and supportive. But I’m not used to offers like that, even from friends. But it’s very her, something I’ve learned since we met several months ago and became fast friends. She’s a photographer and snapped photos for my new coaching business when I finished my run with Glacé earlier this year. I’d loved ice skating in the Cirque du Soleil-esque show during the months it was here in the city. There aren’t that many professional opportunities for ice skaters, as my father reminds me far too much.
But I push him out of my mind and focus on Leighton. Before I can answer her, though, Josie, Everly, and Maeve sweep into the café, turning our little meeting into a full-blown girl-gang intervention. I quickly run down my current crisis for the new arrivals, and then the offers start flying.
“You can stay with Wes and me,” Josie says cheerfully, readjusting her loose bun.
“Asher and I have space,” Maeve adds, since my new artist friend is always happy to help.
