Page 88 of Special Delivery

“Well, she’s a girl. But she’s not my girlfriend if that’s what you mean.”

Her mouth parts. “But you want her to be?”

Kind of, yeah. “What difference does it make to you?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, taunting her with a smirk.

“I’m just asking. Dad told me I can have boy friends, but only as in boys who are friends. I don’t think it’s the same as having boyfriends.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“Do you want her to be a girl who is your friend or your girlfriend?”

I’m not sure why this eight-year-old is giving me therapy sessions, but I blurt out, “Girlfriend.”

Chrissy flashes me her brand-new incisors and the gap where her canine should be. “You should ask her then. Oh, you can make her a card like Tommy did to Melanie for Valentine’s Day.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, maybe. We can talk more about it tomorrow, but it’s time for bed now. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“You have to tell me where we’re going.” She places her small palm on top of mine.

“I don’t think so.” The corner of my lips tips into a smirk. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you’ll find out.”

She lets out a loud, annoyed groan. “Fine.”

I turn off the PlayStation as she stomps her way upstairs to get ready for bed. She’ll love the amusement park I have planned for us tomorrow, but a part of me wishes Paige was with us. Maybe I could talk to Parker, and next time she could join us.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Paige

It’s only been two days, but I miss him. We exchanged a few texts, but it’s nothing like having him next to me. Being able to touch him, hold him.

A loud sigh escapes me as I walk around my house with nothing to do. I’ve already cleaned the entire place, took care of my plants, and sent in my column for next week. How did I even spend my time before meeting Ryan?

Mostly stressing over your job, which is now finally safe, a voice inside my head adds.

True.

Martha loved my latest pieces, and it doesn’t take me over a day to write each one. It was one of the reasons I wanted this job. It would allow me to travel back when travel was the goal.

Now, it means I have plenty of free time and not enough ideas on how to spend it. I shoot off a text to Emma, reminding her of inviting me for a run.

Half an hour later, I park in front of Emma and Jordan’s place. Emma is wearing a purple gym set, her hair pulled up into a ponytail as she warms up in their driveway. I park behind their car and exit my own, my baggy shorts and old T-shirt looking nothing like Emma’s practically professional attire.

“I can’t believe you agreed to go on a run with me,” she exclaims, pulling me into a hug.

“I told you I would.”

“Yeah, but I thought it was just an attempt to get me off your back.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But you’re here now. You’re going to love it.”

“Hope you’re ready to slow down to my pace.” I copy her movements, hoping to prepare my body for the exercise.

“Come on. Let’s warm up so we can get started.”

After a few rolls of our heads, shoulders, hips, and knees, she states that we’re ready to head out. “This is the shorter route, for when I know I won’t have much time. I thought it would be more suitable for your first run.”

“Good thinking.”

“But if this becomes our thing, I’ll show you my favorite route, one that goes along the seashore.” She nudges my shoulder with hers, eliciting a smile. “Let’s go.”