As if she’d driven a fist straight into my ribs, I almost fold in half. “It’s not that I don’t like your uncle, Gabby. We just haven’t been talking as much lately.”
“Why not? Did he make you mad? My mama said Uncle Ree is a turkey butt.” She slaps a hand over her gap-toothed grin.
I laugh along with her. “That’s a good nickname for him.”
“He’s been really grouchy. I guess he feels bad.”
The countless attempts he’s made to contact me would support that. “I think you’re right, Gabby.”
She beams at me. “You always tell me I’m super smart.”
“And that’s the truth.” Similar to the agony of being apart from Reeve. But that’s not a secret I should share with his niece. “Did you know that when two people disagree, they’re both usually at fault? At least a little bit.” I’m tossing myself under the bus more than anyone.
Her humorous gasp almost draws another laugh from me. “So, Uncle Ree is mad at you? That doesn’t make sense because he seems super sad. But does that mean you’ll forgive him? I’m sure he misses you. He probably didn’t act like a turkey butt on purpose.”
I stifle a smile at her rambling. This girl makes quite the matchmaker. “It’s very difficult to stay mad at your uncle.”
“Because he gives the best gifts. I told you that.” She points at herself with both thumbs.
“He certainly does.” I can’t deny that. “Maybe we’ll all hang out again soon. Deal?”
“M’kay. I’ll keep my fingers and toes crossed.”
I hold up my own crossed fingers and give her a wink. “Have a nice weekend, Gabby.”
“Bye, Miss Griffin.” She waves and skips toward the pickup line.
With a thick exhale, I slouch against the wall and take a moment to collect my thoughts. Three weeks of daily crying sessions will drain a girl. The desire to text Reeve pounds into my bones with each breath. I’m not ready to face him, or the potential consequences that a conversation with him will bring. Glancing down at my shirt boosts my mood extremely effectively. These kids are too precious.
I roll my shoulders and stride to the corner table, where a disaster of craft supplies waits. The mess is a decent distraction and gives me a monotonous task to get lost in. Just as I’m beginning to organize the markers, someone knocks on my door. For a moment, my heart spikes with the reminder of Reeve’s surprise visit not so long ago, but it won’t be him now.
“Is this Miss Griffin’s classroom?”
I turn with a squeal at the sound of Vannah’s voice. “No way! How are you here right now?”
She flips a section of red waves behind her. “Girl, I knew you were sad as shit based on our nightly calls this week. I can manage a solo road trip to see my bestie in need.”
I stumble across the carpet in my haste to reach her, scrubbing over my swollen eyes. “This is so unexpected. I already diluted my morning coffee from crying. Now I’m going to ruin happy hour beverages too.”
Vannah beckons me into her arms, wrapping me in a tight hug. “If that’s the case, you look good. And don’t fret. We’ll order margaritas, and you can provide the salt.”
“Thanks, Van.” I snuggle against her comfort for a hot second before pulling away. “Gah, you’re in my little town! This is the greatest surprise in… well, like twenty minutes. It’s been a heck of a day.”
“Don’t I know it. You owe me for that snooze-fest commute. I crossed the border, and it’s all flat pastures and cornfields. Would it kill them to add some ambience?”
“Welcome to Iowa.” I snicker. “The scenery grows on you. It’s surprising how fast I got used to it.”
Her forehead pinches. “Oh, I have no intentions of sticking around long enough to find out.”
I give her a nudge. “Such a city snob.”
“Well aware, thanks.” She cups a palm around her mouth. “Are there any hot teachers left in the building?”
A snort rolls out of me. “There weren’t any to begin with.”
Her upper lip curls. “Well, that’s a huge bummer.”
I shrug, inspecting my chipped nail polish. “The selection in town is decent, though.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s get going.” Vannah claps and does a little shimmy.
My ringtone for Reeve begins playing from my back pocket. I turned my phone off silent just fifteen minutes ago, and already that song has played twice. The darn thing barely makes a peep until a certain someone knows my workday is done. It’s become a ritual of sorts. The man is relentless to a fault, which I should probably take as a compliment. He grinds down my resilience a little thinner with each sweet gesture.
A loud groan interrupts the catchy tune. “My eardrums are bleeding. What the hell is that terrible excuse for music?”
I shake my head at her exaggeration. “That would be ‘Big Green Tractor’ by Jason Aldean.”
She scrunches her lips, looking like she has something foul in her mouth. “Wow, that’s… something else. Who’s the sorry soul assigned to that monstrosity?”
“Reeve,” I whisper.
“Oh, the devil himself.” Her eyes twinkle. “Are you going to answer?”
I chomp on the inside of my cheek. “He’ll just leave me a voicemail.”
“Is this an ongoing thing?”
“As of late,” I confess. He assumes I want to hear his voice, the conceited smarty pants. I give myself an internal eye roll. I will never erase those groveling notes.
Vannah nods. “I suppose this is why I’m here. Should we discuss him in conjunction with cocktails or after several rounds of tequila?”
“Combo platter?” I’ll require all of the above to avoid more sniveling.
She pats her torso. “You have all the best phrases to get my stomach rumbling. They better have a wicked appetizer menu where you’re taking me.”
“Yeah, of course.” But my thoughts drift to the message Reeve is currently leaving. I
