It’s so good to be with him, but bad at the same time, because I know now that I can never go back to being just friends. My heart can’t handle it.
28
ONE HAUNT AT A TIME
AVERY
On Sunday evening my sisters and I arrive home after a weekend mascot event. It was three days of adults dressed in mascot costumes trying to participate in group activities. It reminded me suspiciously of furry conventions, which we’ve also hosted in the past. I would not want to shine a black light on any of the rooms, or the mascot costumes this morning when they were loading up on the bus.
London is lagging behind, likely checking her messages since Daniel, the photographer she’s been dating, is coming back from one of his trips tomorrow and they’re probably making plans. He seems nice enough, but I almost prefer it when he’s away because that means fun London comes out to play. Harley’s arms are full of tonight’s dinner, which happen to be leftovers from last night’s event.
I root around in my pockets for the key. I was holding it ten seconds ago. I finally find it and slide it in the lock, noting that there’s something taped to the door. I pull it free as I turn the knob.
“What’s that?” Harley asks as she brushes past me and drops the bags on the kitchen island.
“Dunno.” I scan the flyer. It’s for my favorite coffee shop. It’s independently owned and they have the best lattes in the history of the universe. It’s where Declan and I went for our first face-to-face coffee date since we broke up. There’s a note attached requesting that I be there tomorrow morning at eight.
I snap a quick photo and send it to Declan, asking if he has anything to do with it. Mondays are generally Spark House work-from-home days. And sleep-in days since our weekends are typically full of events and Saturday nights often consist of some kind of dinner. We rotate so we each have a weekend off a month, but Mondays happen to be our catch-up-and-wind-down days.
I kick off my shoes, drop my phone, and give Harley a hand transferring the dinner leftovers into oven-safe dishes so we can heat them up.
“Holy crap!”
London startles me, and I almost drop an entire container of coconut milk soup on the floor. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t be reading this right.”
“Can’t be reading what right?” I ask.
“You remember Go Green?”
As if I could ever forget. “Of course, why?”
“The secretary of the CEO emailed me asking if we can schedule a call. It looks like they’re interested in referring us for a potential sponsorship opportunity with one of their clients.” London’s eyes are wide with excitement.
“That’s amazing!”
“Apparently Declan manages their accounts and put in a word for us with someone on their team. Did you know about this?”
I shake my head. “He said he was going to talk to them. I guess that means he called in a favor.”
“It seems that way. They’ve been watching our social media and they really love what we’re doing with the adventure camp collaboration. They’re particularly impressed with the use of recycled products and the ecofriendly approach we’ve been using, according to the email.” She sets her phone on the counter. “It’s just a phone call, so we can’t be sure of anything yet, but I’m crossing my fingers.”
“Do you want to go over the notes from last time so you’re ready?” London likes to be prepared for calls, which means reviewing notes and going over potential questions.
While we eat dinner, we review the mile-long list of ecofriendly practices we’ve adopted at Spark House, and hopefully, if all goes well, the call will turn into a meeting and we’ll come out with a great sponsor for future events.
London is keyed up, so she pulls out her laptop and starts going through spreadsheets. I help Harley clean up, and then I head to my room to get ready for bed. It’s only closing in on nine, but I’m beat.
I check my messages, noticing Declan has gotten back to me. He responds with a series of questioning emojis and “I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”
The next morning I get up early, throw on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater, pull on a beanie and my coat, and head out into the brisk morning. I park my car in the lot behind the coffee shop and head inside, but I don’t see Declan anywhere. I check my phone. It’s just eight now, so I get in line to order while I wait for him, firing a message to ask if he wants his usual.
“Avery, macadamia nut latte,” the barista calls out. Her name is Ellie and she’s worked here for a long time, so she knows my order by heart, but she’s not fast enough, or psychic enough to know I’d be coming in at exactly this time today.