Page 7 of This Kind of Forever

“Honestly,” Gordon mutters. I wonder if he thinks he’s talking under his breath. “I should just ban children from the store altogether.”

I bristle at that. Hallie does, too.

“Gordon,” she calls. “What happens with the food you can’t sell?”

He shrugs. “We throw it away.”

Her head shoots up, meeting his gaze. “You don’t donate it?”

Gordon’s lip curls. “No.”

When all is said and done, we managed to save most of the display, but there are more than a handful of cans Gordon deems unacceptable to sell to his customers. He goes to take the cart up to the front, likely to make sure I don’t leave without paying, but Hallie grabs it from him.

“If you’re making Gabe pay for these, then he should get to take them home,” she says.

Gordon sighs. “Fine.” He stalks away, barking instructions at another one of his employees.

“Foster, I don’t need fifty cans of alphabet pasta.”

“I know.” She watches Gordon’s retreating back, then lifts her gaze to mine. “But the food bank does.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe he’d waste perfectly good food like that.”

I snort. “Have you met Gordon? It’s pretty on-brand for him.” Then I soften. “Thank you.”

She offers me a shy smile. “You’re welcome.” Grabbing her own cart, she starts to inch backward. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

I swallow. “See you around,” I echo. Then I watch her walk away. Again.

On our drive home from the store, we stop at the island’s small food bank, and it becomes the proud owner of fifty-three slightly dented cans of Alpha-getti.

I hear the front door open and shut just as I finish loading the dishwasher.

“Hi!” Larissa offers me a bright smile as she rounds the corner into the kitchen, as if she didn’t just get off a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. “Whoa,” she says when she sees my expression. “What’s with the face?”

A lot of people have trouble co-parenting with their exes. It drudges up drama and hurt feelings, and the kids get caught in the middle. Larissa and I have never been like that. Maybe because we were never together to begin with.

We went to high school together, and we had a few of the same friends. I drove down to St. Catharines to visit some ofthem one weekend while she was in undergrad, one thing led to another, and about nine months later, I was holding our daughter in my arms. We only slept together that one time, then we both agreed we were better off as friends.

“What happened to you?” I counter. “Did you slip a few of your patients’ happy pills when the other nurses weren’t looking?”

She rolls her eyes, hip-checking me out of the way so she can pour herself a glass of wine, which she left here the last time she was over. “This is all-natural, honey. Can’t I simply be happy?”

She leans back against the counter, glass in hand. That’s when I notice the rock on her ring finger.

“Oh, fuck. He finally did it, eh?”

Larissa beams. “Yeah. Last night.”

Chris has been in the picture since Abbie was about two. Larissa had been hesitant to start dating again after becoming a mom, but when she and Chris hit it off at the gym one week, I encouraged her to give it a shot. Four years later, here they are.

I pull her against my side for a hug. “Happy for you, Riss. You gonna tell Abbie?”

She nods. “That’s why I wanted to come over tonight. I couldn’t stand waiting until tomorrow.” She offers me an apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I wave off her concern. “You know I don’t.” I nod toward the stairs. “She’s up in her room.”

Larissa sets her wine glass down, turning to leave. But then she stops and studies me. “You sure you’re okay?”

I cross my arms, leaning against the island. I know I won’t get out of this without spilling, so I might as well get it over with. “Hallie’s back.”