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“Either way, yeah. Someone signed us up to help out with the spring festival.” Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotions. Dry as a desert. Same as her expression. Dull eyes, lips pressed together in a flat line. By her reaction, one would think the powers that be at the school were forcing her to walk down the aisle to me all over again. In reality, we’d have to suffer through a twenty-minute conversation. Then we’d throw it together the week of and go our separate ways.
“Oh, I love the spring festival.” Layla beamed. “Didn’t they have Steven Tyler perform a few years ago?”
As if the sound of her voice had summoned Luke, he came out from behind the bar and wandered over.
He stood at the outside of the booth, leaning into his wife. “Yeah. It was the year after Bear Grylls came to do a demonstration.”
Jeez, what the heck kind of event were they putting on? All of a sudden, I felt like I was signing up to be shipped off to fight in World War III.
“What kind of activity were you assigned to?” Luke asked, looking from me to Marigold and back again, like he wasn’t sure who to ask.
I answered. “A kind of game?”
Calla looked at Marigold and back at me. “How long do you have to work on it?”
“Six weeks.” Our monotone synchronized response indicated just how reluctant we were about the whole thing.
Which my whole family found hilarious, judging by the way they side-eyed each other and the snickers across the table.
If we didn’t feel comfortable enough being in the same room, how could we possibly work together for six weeks? That was what they were thinking.
But we were adults, not high schoolers after a public breakup during PE. All we had to do was throw together a last-minute poster board and buy a few bags of candy, and it would be done. No need to go all Aerosmith on the school.
“Won’t that conflict with your work schedule?” Nathan asked across from me.
I’d been wondering the same thing for the last twenty-four hours. “Not sure. Slipping away is kind of difficult right now. We’ve got—”
A dismissive scoff sounded two seats down, silencing me. My cheek turned up, because this was the part we were good at.
I leaned forward, turning my head to the stubborn brunette I loved to argue with, and smirked. I knew exactly where this was going.
“I’m sorry, Goldie. What were you saying?”
Arms crossed, she zeroed in on me. As if she was allowing me to look at her. Like it was a privilege. Sometimes it was.
“Oh, I only wanted to commend you on your wonderful work ethic.”
The smirk turned into a grin as she raised a challenging brow at me.
“How magnanimous of you.”
She hummed, pressing her lips together. “Very.”
“If you have anything else to add to that, I’d love to hear it.”
She lifted her chin, not breaking eye contact. The rest of the table looked back and forth between us, watching our game of verbal tennis.
“That’s nice to know. Thank you for your permission.”
I was pulling out the big guns, and I didn’t even care.
“You are so welcome, your highness.”
Fury ignited in her eyes as she uncrossed her arms and shifted to face me. She gripped the table, her knuckles turning white.
“Since you’re so curious about my thoughts, I might as well give them to you. You’re so dedicated to your job, I’m shocked you have time to even breathe.”
My heart took off at a gallop. Yes, Marigold. Give me anger. I couldn’t take the indifference.
