Page 16 of Get A Fix

Her eyes narrowed.

“No, I mean it. Except in regard to the trip.”

“Yes. Agreed.”

“And you look amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you for saying that. I feel like a blob, and it’s only going to get worse with all the people who will be at this wedding.”

I scoffed. “Don’t make me lecture you on body positivity and not comparing ourselves to others. That is not helpful.”

“Says the utterly gorgeous man who looks like he belongs in a magazine.”

I winked at her, and she sighed deeply.

“At least my hormones are back under control.”

“Cora had to see someone after her fourth child. She wasn’t herself, and her doctor figured out fairly quickly that she had postpartum depression. We all helped out.”

“Your family sounds amazing, but it’s not that for me, it’s just motherhood as a whole. So many people make it look easy, and then there’s me.”

“Well, you’re doing pretty good if you ask me. That day job of yours, taking people up and down the mountains, is not easy.”

She chuckled. “I like you. You should come home with me and be my new bestie. I don’t talk to anyone like this, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“I would follow you home, but my sisters enjoy having me come over and watch their kids. They might fight you for me, and there’s four of them and they fight dirty.”

“Been on the bad end of that dirty fighting, have you?”

“You have no idea.”

“I would love to meet them.”

“Where do you live?”

“Green Bay. You?”

“Chicago. We’ll have to arrange a visit.”

She took hold of my hand then. “I would love that. Let’s exchange numbers.”

And we did, which made me happy.

“You know, don’t Orson and Bitsy sound like some creepy couple who live in the crumbling house at the end of the block that you ran by superfast when you were little?”

“Stop,” she scolded.

“Bitsy always wants to give you stale cookies, and Orson has a lot of knives.”

“Stop,” she warned me, using her mom voice. “I mean it. You’re gonna make me pee.”

I started laughing, and then she did, and we were both done.

Another hour later, and along came Jeffrey Cushing, appearing far older than his thirty-seven years, with two boys in tow, one four, the other five.

“He looked better this morning when we left the house,” Ainsley commented. “But so did I.”

“You look radiant,” I assured her.