* * *
“This is the surprise?”
And apparently not a good one by how disappointed Drew looks. I can work with this. I have his expectations so low that the actual surprise will be even better now. Unless I’m misunderstanding the pursed lips and furrowed brow.
Maybe it’s fear creeping into his eyes as he stares at the motto stuck on the window—new tools for age-old problems. “No, this is a pit stop.”
“For?”
“You know what for. You’ve been in New York for five weeks. Let’s just call the three prior to me purgatory—”
Shoving his hands in his jean pockets, he nods, looking satisfied. “It sort of was.”
“Sort of?”
The toe of his shoe bumps the side of my Converse, forming a connection. It’s the little things with this man that mean so much. “It was.” Despite the grumpier moments he has, I love how agreeable he can be sometimes. “And the two since knowing you?”
“We’ll call those the best time of your life.”
He chuckles but then leans over and kisses the top of my head. “It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“That’s good because we hate those.”
“We sure do.”
I drag him by the hand under the ragged purple awning and inside where a lady dressed in a long, purple silk robe is standing in the middle of the store. The red and white flowers on her chest are definitely attention-getters and the fabric on the sexy side. I’m now debating if we should have come here.
When she raises her hands in front of her, rings adorn every finger. She taps the tips of her long, red nails together and aims her eyes at Drew. “Welcome to New Age Innovations. What is your spirit seeking?”
His hand tightens around mine, and when I look up at him beside me, I’m thinking he’s close to running out the door to escape. I’m not sure which verb fits this situation better because I’m a little freaked out as well. I say, “We’re looking for a smudge stick.”
Her hands fall to her sides, and her shoulders sag. Nodding to her left, she replies, “They’re in the back corner.” The creepy voice she was using has been replaced with a Bronx accent. That’s disappointing. Not that she’s from the Bronx, but that it was an act. Anything to sell your goods, I guess.
Standing in front of the curio cabinet, we read what each one does. Drew stops and looks over his shoulder before whispering to me, “Why are we here?”
“Number two.”
“You need the bathroom?”
I balk in laughter. “No . . . oh great, now I do. Ugh. Thanks for bringing it up.” He shrugs innocently enough so I can forgive him. I say, “Number two from your mom’s list for you to get a life.”
Annoyance stiffens his back, and he stands to his full, glorious height. “I have a life. See? I’m here with you in this weird shop on a Saturday. You know what I’d be doing on a normal Saturday?” He doesn’t even bother keeping his voice down.
So I don’t either. “Going for a run in the morning and then getting a coffee on the way into work?”
“Okay, you don’t need to make me sound so predictable.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow.
He mimics my body language, but it only takes a few seconds in a standoff for him to lower his arms again, lean in, and whisper, “Fine, you win. That’s what I’d be doing, but you know, I’m really fucking good at it.”
“You say that all the time as if that’s all you are, though. That’s why this list is important. If it weren’t for that list, you wouldn’t be standing in this strange store in the middle of the Bronx at two on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Hey,” the lady calls from behind the counter where she’s burning skull candles. “It’s not strange.”
I nod. It’s freaking strange, but if she digs it, that’s cool. I open the jar of the stick we need for our mission and take one out.
Drew says, “Yeah, me not standing in this strange place.”
“Really?” silky robe lady says loudly. “I can still hear you.”
Hitting me with a glare, he tells her, “Sorry.” Lowering until his eyes are level with mine, my tall Redwood giant of a man whispers, “I wouldn’t be here. That’s my point.” If emphatic can be managed in a whisper, he masters it. He really is skilled at so many things. His parents must be very proud.
“Oh wait,” I reply, realizing I didn’t think this through. “I think we’re arguing the same point, or I’m lost at this point, voiding all other points altogether.”
Taking the stick from me, he says, “That doesn’t void my point,” and then heads toward the register while tapping on his phone.
I follow him. Resting against his back as he pays, I say, “Point taken.”