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“—running errands—”
“Ha… errands,” Mary Sue said dryly, needles resuming their soft rhythm, “that somehow keep him within a block of Main Street at all times.”
“—and showed up the next morning with a brand new iPhone,” Isabelle finished, tossing a piece of popcorn at Sage, who dodged it with the practiced reflexes of someone who’d been doing this for three days straight. “An iPhone, Sage. He drove all the way to Missoula.”
“He said he was going anyway—”
“He was not going anyway.”
Sage just smiled and said nothing, pulling her knees up under Cal's hoodie. That was answer enough.
She caught Isabelle looking at her in the soft, post-laughter quiet — firelight dancing across her piercings and the faded lavender streaks in her hair. She was curled deep into the corner of Mary Sue’s couch like she belonged there.
“Okay,” Sage said suddenly, rolling forward onto her knees with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Izzy.” She fixed Isabelle with the most innocent, wide-eyed look she could manage. “Please tell me about the surprise. Please. I’m begging. Look at my face.”
“I’m looking at your face.”
“It’s a great face,” Mary Sue said softly, still knitting but smiling.
“It is a great face,” Isabelle agreed, dead serious.
“So tell me.”
“Absolutely not.”
Sage made a noise of pure betrayal and launched herself at Isabelle. Isabelle shrieked, grabbing the popcorn bowl as a shield, but Sage got both hands under her ribs and squeezed.
“Get… off me, you… you curvy… voluptuous… wet dream—”
“Wet dream?!” Sage gasped, tickling harder.
“I said—ahhh stop! I SAID WHAT I SAID—MARY STOP YOUR DAUGHTER. I’M GOING TO PEE!!!” Isabelle wheezed, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “You’re like being sat on by a very beautiful, very soft—”
“Oh my God stop,” Sage laughed, nearly knocking the popcorn bowl off the couch. “I’m not—”
“You are and you know you are and I need you to make peace with it—”
“Isabelle—”
“—because that man has eyes, Sage Thompson, and he is not unaware—”
Sage dissolved into helpless giggles. Isabelle kept going, because that was the point — making her laugh until the words could slip in underneath and stick. Mary Sue made a quiet sound that was definitely not a laugh, and the three of them carried on long into the night while snow fell gently outside.
Later, when the pizza box was folded away, the popcorn bowl was empty, and the fire had burned down to low golden embers, Isabelle looked at her seriously.
“Look. I know the not-knowing is killing you. But trust me when I tell you this — the surprise is going to be worth it.” She paused. “And for the record? I’m with Mama on this one. That man has it real bad for Sage Thompson.”
Sage bit her lip and stared into the fire.
“Real bad,” Mary Sue confirmed softly, needles still moving.
“Really real bad,” Isabelle added.
Sage pulled the oversized hoodie completely over her face for a second, then peeked out, cheeks warm. She looked at the dying flames, then down at the too-long sleeves covering her hands, then at nothing in particular. Her chest felt strangely tight — cracked open, terrified, and quietly, carefully hopeful all at once.
“Yeah?” she asked, voice very small.
“Yeah,” Mary Sue and Isabelle said together.
