Page 51 of The Write Choice

Mac has been studying me, and I have the uncanny sense that she can actually see right through me. She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. “So, what is going to make you happy? Going back to New York?”

I have a feeling from the way she thought about it before asking that if I say yes, these two will advocate for me in a way no one in the city would ever have. I busy myself twirling pasta around my fork, though I don’t eat it.

It’s not that easy. I want to be in a place where I feel like I belong. I want to have a purpose and friends. Friends who don’t make me feel like I’m a downer because I’m not drinking. Friends who don’t make me feel like I’m on the outside looking in.

I raise my eyes to the water glasses on the table. I’m positive these two don’t have pasta without wine very often. It’s not lost on me that they barely know me and are willing to have a night without alcohol. A tiny kernel of warmth starts in my chest.

“I don’t know, actually,” I admit, still looking at the water glasses and avoiding their gazes.

“Leade Park does have a way of worming its way into the heart of even the most hardened New Yorker,” Mac says wistfully.

Jenny snorts, then grabs a napkin to wipe some sauce off her face. Mac looks at her in disgust.

“I have recently started to think about putting together a book of my art, though.” I’m not sure what makes me share this with them, but now it’s out there, and I can’t take it back.

“Like a portfolio? Or a coffee table book?” Mac asks. She leans forward, genuinely interested.

Her curiosity emboldens me. “A children’s book, maybe?” I shrug as if this admission is no big deal. “I like reading with the kids. I thought it could be cool.”

“I was listening to a true crime podcast about a woman who allegedly killed her husband and then wrote a children’s book about him,” Jenny says, stabbing a meatball with her fork. When Mac and I stare, wide-eyed at her, she chuckles. “Right. Not that kind of book. Well, you’re here until March no matter what, right? So, while you figure out what you want to do, let’s have some fun.”

Mac nods enthusiastically, and I can’t help but let my grin spread wide. “What kind of fun?”

“For starters, we need another member for book club,” Jenny offers.

Mac scoffs. “Jenny, you hiding erotica in my home library is not a book club.”

Jenny shrugs as if this detail is inconsequential. I look between the two of them, wide-eyed. “You two are something else.”

“We get that a lot,” they say in unison.

I smirk and take another huge bite of pasta, chewing slowly. If I had met up with a pair like this back in New York, I would have felt completely left out. My body would start to itch for a drink—literally itch from the inside out. I would have instantly tried to leave to avoid picking up a glass of the nearest something.

But these two are so warm and inclusive. I don’t know if it’s a practiced skill from being teachers and welcoming all sorts of students into their classrooms, or if it is something about having lived in this sleepy, friendly, Midwest suburb for years. Whatever it is, I want to believe there’s no ulterior motive for them here. Maybe they truly do want to be friends with me.

I feel my shoulders relax as we all eat in silence for a minute before Jenny uses her fork to point to a spot on the counter behind me. “If we aren’t going to start a book club, we should include the newbies in the date jar.”

I swivel in my seat to see a glass jar with slips of paper folded inside. “What’s a date jar?”

Mac wiggles in her seat so she’s sitting straighter. “We all add ideas for dates to the jar. We meet once a month to have dinner and pick our next date. We do whatever is on the paper later in the month.”

“That’s cute.” I smile. “What was the last date you did?”

Jenny’s cheeks flush, and Mac looks positively giddy. Jenny raises her left hand and wiggles her ring finger, where a gorgeous diamond ring sits.

I frown. “So, you picked his proposal out of the jar, and because it’s the date jar, you had to do it?”

Jenny barks out a laugh. “Oh god, no. He did it that way so we’d all be together. He actually didn’t even have the ring in the box. There was a note that said he was ready when I was.”

“Turns out she was ready.” Mac nudges Jenny in the side with her elbow. Jenny shoots a sidelong look at her.

I smile. “Well, then, congratulations.”

Jenny nods her thanks, and Mac steps in. “But before that, we took a cooking class, went horseback riding—”

“Hold on,” I interrupt. “You got Daniel to take a cooking class?”

Mac wrinkles her nose. “Yes. That was bad.”