AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Layla: This is adorable. Like two arguing toddlers thrown into a room together and told to figure it out.
That would be adorable if one of us wasn’t threatening to kill the other.
Adam: Did you deserve it?
No.
Luke: He’s lying through his feet.
Layla: Teeth, babe.
Marigold: *knife emoji*
“How about cornhole? The winning team gets candy.”
“Cornhole, Goldie? This is not amateur hour. You’ve got to step it up.”
Marigold and I planned to meet on Wednesday mornings until we could get this thing wrapped up. It was her slowest morning, and it was the only day I could stretch enough to fit my schedule without Melinda ripping me a new one.
For our first meeting, she texted me ahead of time with a clear agenda that included tasks like sketching ideas and plotting. Even after all these years, she still had that artist mindset. Sounded simple enough, right? Only we couldn’t agree on anything.
We sat on my living room floor, which felt oddly comfortable. I’d pictured us perched on opposite ends of the couch or at the dining table, but Marigold had swept in with her sketchbooks and plopped herself on my hardwood floors without even a word. Probably to avoid touching any of my furniture.
I held back a huff, though I did give her a smirk just to mess with her. If we were doing this, then we’d do it right. Anyone could set out a bowl that said take one and hand out coloring sheets. But we were doing this for my boys. And to prove that Marigold and I absolutely could work together. So there was no need to go all light and easy. I was prepared to bring out the big guns.
“I like cornhole. It’s simple and…” She looked up at the ceiling like the words she was looking for were scrawled across it.
“Bland. The word you’re searching for is bland. Come on now, Goldie, use that big, creative brain of yours. Are we trying to get these kids a trip to Hershey Park or not?”
Each time I called her Goldie, her eye twitched. Then color would rise up her neck to her jaw and dance over her cheeks. It was so much fun. Ironically, sitting here on my living room floor and verbally torturing her was about the most fun I’d had in days.
“Well, I mean, yeah—”
I tapped my foot on the floor beside hers. “Then we’ve got to think outside the box. Come on. Where’s the artist I know? Drag her out. We need something crazy. Alien invasion game, or pie to the face, or—Oh! I got it.”
“Throwing a pie in your face sounds very appealing.”
I chose to ignore that part. “Mini golf.”
She let out a sarcastic laugh. There wasn’t an ounce of humor or happiness in it, but I enjoyed watching her anyway. The way she elongated her neck when she tipped her head back, putting the soft, pale skin there on display. How her long braid fell over one shoulder as she barked out the humorous sound.
When she collected herself, she flattened her expression. “How is mini golf better than cornhole?”
Images were already flitting through my mind. Still pictures of the boys and their friends stopping by our booth, in awe, then coming back over and over. Fantasies of taking the boys to Hershey Park with Marigold. Buying her a boatload of chocolate to lighten her up.
“Because it’s not going to be normal mini golf. It’s going to be insane mini golf. I’m talking obstacles. Giant art pieces that look like animals spitting water. The whole nine yards.”
Heck yeah. We’d make Adeline Phillips cry.
“Our budget for this is one hundred dollars,” Marigold reminded me.
Oof. Yeah, I hadn’t considered a budget. I squinted. “We can split the rest?”
“At that point, couldn’t we just buy the boys tickets to Hershey Park?”
Probably. But then meeting like this would be pointless, and I’d go back to Wednesday mornings filled with nothing but work and silence. And this was the least quiet the house had been since the boys were here last.
“And lose the satisfaction of sticking it to Adeline Phillips?”
