It Started With a Kiss (Insta-Spark)

“You guys go have dinner. I’ll just walk home and we’ll reschedule.”

She linked her arm with mine. “No way. You have to eat, too. We’ll have dinner and run you home. The four of us can do dinner next week. Right?”

I let her drag me toward the restaurant, nodding. I wasn’t sure how to tell her there might not be a next week for Daniel and me.

I slid into my chair after returning from the restroom. I had checked my phone, disappointed but not surprised there wasn’t a message from Daniel. My fingers hovered over the keys. I wanted to send him a message and make sure he arrived home okay. I hadn’t been kidding when I told him that I disliked his shortcut. The road was narrow, twisted, and full of deep ruts—more like a country lane than a road. I could only imagine what it was like on a wet day, and considering the mood he’d been in when he left, I got the impression he gave the speed limit no consideration at all. I stared at the screen, then slipped my phone back into my purse. If he didn’t text, maybe I needed to leave it for now. Let him cool off, and allow my hurt feelings to settle.

I picked up my wine, taking an appreciative sip. “Where’s Ryan?”

“He had John pick him up. They went for beer and wings.”

“What? Why?”

She gave me a knowing look over her glass. “An emergency, Avery? From the devastated look on your face, I’d say more like a big fight.”

“Oh, um . . .” I stumbled over my words. “I thought–I thought I’d hidden it.”

Reaching across the table, she grabbed my hand. “Maybe from other people, but you’re my best friend. You can’t hide from me.”

I squeezed her fingers. “Ryan didn’t have to go.”

She shrugged. “He was fine. There’s a game on tonight and he’s just as happy to hang with John and watch it while stuffing his face with wings and beer. He figured there wouldn’t be much eating happening here.”

“We can leave.”

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know what happened. One minute he was teasing, the next . . . he wasn’t. He hates my driving apparently.” I met Beth’s sympathetic gaze. “He compared me to a ninety-year-old woman—with very bad habits.”

I expected her instant denial, or a gasp of outrage on my behalf. Instead, she looked down at the table, her finger tracing the design on the tablecloth.

I gaped at her. “You agree with him?”

“You are, ah, overly cautious.”

“He said I was a stick-in-the-mud.”

Her gaze flew to mine. “That’s what Grant said to you when you broke up.”

I wiped an errant tear off my cheek. “I know it’s silly . . .”

“No,” she interrupted me, “it’s not silly. He said something that reminded you of a painful time, and it hurt you.” Her voice softened. “It hurt you because his opinion matters.”

“It does.” I sniffled. “I told him I didn’t want to have dinner anymore and he said I was acting childish.”

“I’d say he was the one acting childish.”

“He’s tired,” I insisted. “He’s lost some animals this week, and it upsets him. He’s working long hours and with Steven and Caitlin away, it all falls on him . . .” My voice trailed off at the look on Beth’s face. “What?”

“Listen to you, defending him. You’re upset and hurt, yet you won’t say anything bad about him.”

“He was an ass?” I offered, though it didn’t sound very convincing.

She threw back her head and laughed. “You don’t sound like you mean that.”

“I do. But I know how difficult things have been for him. He drives in to see me at night, and he looked so tired this week. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he wasn’t himself.”

“So, he’s forgiven?”