Page 40 of The Romantic Agenda

She shakes her head. “I like cutting to the chase. If I wanna know something I ask. If I have something worth saying I say it. Life’s too short and I’m too old to hold back.”

“Then why haven’t you told Malcolm you want to be more than friends?”

“That’s different.” Joy sighs. “Asking if you’re lying affects nothing whereas saying that to Malcolm could potentially shift the entire course of my life. Do you see the imbalance there?”

He goes quiet again, eyes downcast and focused on the stretch of wood between them. “I think that’s your problem. He’s used to you being open and not holding back. I’m just guessing here, but if you had something to tell him, he would expect you to tell him.”

“Maybe with everything else. Not this. I’ve tried before and it’s like he doesn’t hear me. I want to find a foolproof way to get through to him before trying again.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re thinking. I can see you thinking.”

Fox exhales in a huff, eyes flashing with irritation. “You don’t have to comment on everything I do or don’t do. New rule: Is it possible for you to stop doing that? It’s a bit much for me.”

“Oh no, but that’s my entire personality,” she whispers, pretending to be hurt. It earns her the slight laugh she hoped for.

Joy often went where her thoughts led her. If something popsin her head and she wants to say it, she does. Doesn’t matter if anyone else understands or not. If they went along with the conversation, she could keep it going. She discovered that itwasannoying to some people, so she altered her behavior around them—toning herself down, keeping quiet—but Fox didn’t seem truly annoyed.

“What if I kept my thoughts to myself fifty percent of the time?” she asks.

He counters with “Eighty.”

She grins. “Sixty-five?”

“Deal.”

“You got it,” she says. “Can I tell you something?”

“Oh, we’re asking permission now?” he teases. “Usually, you just let it rip.”

“I’m glad I met you. I don’t believe in fate, but”—she pauses, thinking back over the day—“you really made today worth it.”

“Worth what?” His voice is so close to a whisper, the crickets nearly drown him out.

Joy smiles, her best and brightest. “Everything.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Summer approaching the door.

“Oh, um, Fox, hey, Malcolm needs you for something in the bar room. Could you help him?”

“No,” Fox rumbles.

“Please?” Summer pouts, placing her hands in the prayer position. That must be a favorite move of hers. “Come on.”

“Fine.” Fox heads inside without another word.

Joy lifts an eyebrow. “Cake time?”

“Cake time.” Summer nods, barely able to contain her excitement.

In the kitchen, they work together, quickly placing andlighting the candles. Summer wanted to buy and use twenty-nine candles—fire hazard be damned. Joy convinced her to instead make the shape of a two and a nine with singles.

Malcolm’s voice sounds through the kitchen, “OH LOOK, A CORNER.”

“Here they come!” Summer jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

“No, really?” Joy laughs.

“Why are you yelling?” Fox stops short when he reaches the kitchen.