Page 96 of Prime Time Romance

Everyone is watching us. Smiling. So hopeful. Doc. Pop. Lois. Even Poppy and the rest of the pageant contestants.

All of Carson’s Cove appears to be here.

Including Josh.

He’s at the back. On the sidewalk out front of the Bronze, next to Sherry. Neither appeared to have been part of the dancing.

Of all the eyes in the crowd watching me, it’s his I feel the most.

Waiting.

Josh is the one I want. I have no doubts. In fact, I have feelings that are so deep and serious that I need time alone to sort through and truly unpack them. But the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end as another gaze falls on me.

Sheldon is still in his pageant crew headset. Dressed all in black. And although he says nothing, his eyes communicate everything: This is what you wanted.

My heart actually aches as I meet Spencer’s eyes.

“I would love to wear your jacket,” I tell him, taking it from his hands.

The crowd cheers as I slip it on, the sleeves cracked and the wool scratchy.

Spencer picks me up and spins me in a circle.

I’m dizzy and nauseous as he sets me down.

I catch sight of Luce on the sidewalk as my vision stabilizes. She doesn’t look gleefully joyous like everyone else, or confused and sad like Josh. She just looks curious.

The crowd begins to disperse, and my eyes drift back to the spot in front of the Bronze, wondering how much of my plan I can communicate to Josh with just my eyes.

But the front stoop is empty.

And Josh is gone.

27

Josh

I slam the door to the Bronze behind me, but it doesn’t close with a satisfying bang. There’s a soft thud, followed by a “Jesus H. Christmas, are you trying to kill me?”

I whip around to find Sherry glaring at me.

“Sorry.” My anger dissipates for a moment of guilt. “I thought you stayed out there with them.”

Sherry rolls her eyes. “Those bozos? There’s a reason I’ve kept this place a dump for so many years. Up until this past week, it’s kept a nice distance between me and the riffraff.”

“Sorry I ruined that.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was being dramatic. I can deal with the riffraff as long as they are buying seven-dollar pints.” She passes me, heading to the bar, but stops, opening her mouth, as if choosing her next words carefully.

“Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’m getting the sense you need to hear it. Whatever has gotten into you the last little while, I like it. I’ve been waiting for a long time for you to grow up and stop wandering around this town like you don’t know your ass from your head, and frankly, I was starting to lose hope. This place has really turned around. And that was entirely due to your sudden change in attitude. Whatever has happened, keep it up.”

I’m a little lost at how I should respond here, as I’m pretty sure the personality changes she’s referencing are due to the fact that I’m an entirely different person than her nephew, Fletch, but I decide to take her comment for what it is.

“Thanks, Sherry. The last few years have been rough. Finally seeing things go right has been good for me too.”

She raises a brow. “Rough how?”

I didn’t exactly think my comment through before I made it. I assumed that, like in every other conversation these past two weeks, Sherry would rip a few insults and move on. But she sits down on a barstool and beckons me to join her. I formulate the best way to tell her the rest as I take a seat.