Page 49 of Friends to WHAT?!

Amia hops from foot to foot impatiently by the counter. The minute the door shuts behind her father and me, she grabs my free hand and drags me away from Wolfe. She talks a mile a minute as she leads me to her set-up near the back of the studio. I smile a hello at Sterne while Amia jabbers, and he smiles one back.

“–and that’s why I’m here! Daddy says he just has to finish up Uncle Sterne’s tattoo, which is supposed to take three half hours, then we can go get dinner at the diner. He said that I can ask you if you want to go with us. He said that we don’t have to invite Uncle Sterne if I don’t want, but that I shouldn’t tell Uncle Sterne about it if I don’t want him to go, ’cause that would be rude, which is why I haven’t told Uncle Sterne about it. I like Uncle Sterne, but today is Miss Leora day. I just want me, you, and Daddy to go to the diner. Uncle Sterne will be okay, though, because Uncle Sterne haslotsof other friends he can hang out with. That’s because he’s a firefighter, and firefighters live with, like, twelve other guys. They play on the fire pole and make meals together and watch movies and sometimes they put out fires. So he can go have dinner with them, and we’ll go have dinner without him!” She smiles, clearly thrilled with her plans and how very little they will affect Sterne.

Wolfe sighs. “Amia, when I said you shouldn’t tell Uncle Sterne about it, I meant you shouldn’t talk about it in front of him at all. It’s rude to make plans in front of someone and not invite them.”

Sterne works valiantly to keep his expression carefully neutral, and I follow suit. Unfortunately, we make the mistake of catching one another’s eyes, and it nearly blows both our covers. His lip twitches, and my eyes bulge, then I tear my attentionaway from him before anything so terrible aslaughtercan burst forth.

Amia’s brows furrow, increasing my amusement. “But… I didn’t tell him about it. I was talking to Miss Leora. If he heard, it’s ’cause he’s eavesdropping. And eavesdropping is way more rude than not inviting someone somewhere.”

Sterne coughs to cover his laugh. I turn my back to the group to retain my control.

When I’m able to turn back around safely, Wolfe is giving Amia a patenteddad look.

Amia pouts. “Do Ihaveto?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers patiently. “Because it’s not eavesdropping to hear a conversation happening right beside you in a wide open room, and because even if itwere, Sterne being rude isn’t an excuse for you to also be rude.”

She huffs. Then, with not an ounce of sincerity, she turns to Sterne. “Sorry, Uncle Sterne. Would you like to go to the diner after your tattoo is finished and have dinner with us?”

Sterne regards her thoughtfully. “I would love to,” he says, eyes sparkling as her shoulders slump. He lets her off the hook quickly, though. “But it will have to be another time. I have plans tonight.”

Amia doesn’t cheer, and I think it’s rather big of her, because she so clearly wants to. “That’s too bad,” she lies, instead.

I press my lips together very,veryhard.

Amia turns her back on a coughing Sterne as her father mutters about “manners” and “children who have none.” She smiles at me, unrepentant. “I set up a craft station for us!”

Charmed, I allow myself to be led to my very own rolling chair, then wait for her to hop onto one on the other side of the tattoo bench she’s using as a table. I notice that it’s completely crumb-free, thanks to Poem, I hope. She was supposed to hire a cleaner after shoving a metric ton of snacks into the crevices ofthe chair, and she appears to have followed through. My opinion of her rises tenfold. I love a woman who can make a mess and then pick it back up.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“We’re making necklaces!” she says, and it’s then that I fully take in what I’m looking at.

Dozens of small tumbled stones, minerals, and even a few gems litter our project zone. Scattered amidst the stones are chains, o-rings, clasps, and thin wire. Amia shows me a necklace she’s already made, pointing out how she used the wire to create a casing for the stone, then attached an o-ring to slide the chain through before adding a clasp mechanism to the end of entire creation.

I gape, watching in awe as she demonstrates the process for me, too. For a child of a mere eight years, she’s an absolute whiz with a pair of needle-nose pliers.

Wolfe’s tattoo gun takes off, a soft buzz that draws my attention for a moment, but doesn’t hold it. Wolfe might be majestic, particularly when he’s in the zone like this, biceps bulging as he stretches Sterne’s skin taut… brows furrowing in concentration… strong shoulders shifting with the movement of his gun…

Okay. Fine. Perhaps he holds my attention for several moments past one. Sue me, the man is hot, and I happen to be in love with him.

Even so, it’s not a hardship to return my gaze to his daughter. I watch with rapt delight as she picks out stones for each of us to work with, then helps me through making my very own necklace.

When I’m finished, I give it to her. “To remember this day,” I tell her. “To remember that I love you, and I’m happy I got to meet you.”

She squeals and has me clasp the necklace around her neck, oohing and ahhing at the shiny rock dangling from the chain—a rock I’m pretty sure she sourced and tumbled herself, but I still appreciate her appreciation for the work I did with it.

“I love it!” she declares. “I’m going to wear it every single day!”

My breath catches. “That’s beautiful,” I tell her.

We spend the next hour making more necklaces, competing with each other to see who can stack up the other’s necks the most. I come close to winning with a total of five necklaces, but she beats me out with seven.

“I’m just faster ’cause I’ve had lots of practice,” she assures me. “Next time, we can make more, and then you’ll be fast like me.”

My heart warms. I could just squish her. “Next time,” I agree, loving the sound.

Sure, I might have no idea what I’m doing, and I might screw her up completely, but there will be anext timefor us. There will be a future. And maybe the reason I don’t know what it will look like isn’t because of my dark past, but because the future is so bright, it’s blinding.