Page 42 of Always and Forever
“Next time, think about public safety, old man,” she says in her thick Irish accent.
Old man?
Oh god, why did she have to call him that?
I’m sure I can spot the steam leaving his ears… even through the beanie. I think he’s winding himself up to give Rhia as good a mouthful as he’s getting.
“This is a residential street, not a winter amusement park.”
“Well, it is now,” Rhia retorts, gesturing to the chaos around us. “And I must say, your snowman—what’s left of him—makes a fantastic snow jump.”
Mr. Roberts’ eyes go wide, and his mouth falls open once more.
Holy crap!
What am I going to do?
I’m never going to get my marriage license now.
“Rhia,” I hiss, stepping closer to her, but she ignores me.
“Rhia, sweets.” I try the smiling approach, but it also gets me nowhere.
I tug on her elbow, but she seems oblivious. Maybe she can’t feel it through all the layers of padded clothes.
“Rhia, my little firecracker,” I sing playfully, but she keeps ignoring me.
“Seriously… Rhianna Lily Bannaghan, shut the hell up!” I cut her off and pinch her arm.
She glances at me, thrusting her hands on her hips. “Please Ella. I’m in the middle of someth—”
Huddling closer so only she can hear, I say, “This is the guy we need… this is Mr. Roberts!” I widen my eyes at her for emphasis.
“What?”
“Yeah!”
“Fuck me… how does this happen?” Rhia whispers.
We step away from each other just as a neighbor from across the street comes over, shovel in hand.
Oh no! Are we going to end up in a shallow grave?
It was just a snowman, right?
The neighbor’s curious smile puts me at ease though as he regards the mess we made. He looks from Mr. Roberts to us, his head tilted to the side.
“Are you girls okay?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, my voice a little shaky. How are we going to turn this disaster around?
“Hmm, maybe we should start a Winter Olympics right here, George. Your kids would love that just as much as mine. Dog sleds and snowman slushy slalom!”
Rhia erupts in laughter, and I hold my breath as I watch Mr. Roberts’ face like a hawk. The sides of his mouth perk up, his disgruntled demeanor lifting.
“Fuckin’ tourists,” he mutters more to himself, then he has a chuckle.
Rhia replies in kind, seizing the moment to thread her arm through his.
