Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Carys snapped a picture and held her phone up.
Greta looked at a version of herself she wasn’t sure she’d seen before. She looked happy—almost carefree. She looked present.
“I’ll send it to you, and you can send it to your family so they know you’re doing just great.”
Greta nodded, still staring at her own smiling face.
“But I’ll need your number if I’m gonna text it to you,” Carys said, fluttering her eyelashes in an exaggeration of flirting.
“Wow, you play a long game,” Greta joked.
“Always.”
She gave Carys her number and sent the picture to the family text thread the instant it came through, before she could lose her nerve.
i’m great and new orleans is wonderful! she wrote, then put away her phone.
“Thanks,” she told Carys.
“You’re very welcome,” Carys said.
Their gazes caught, entangled. Greta had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in her life. She ached to feel Carys’ lips against hers.
So of course she changed the subject.
“So, um, what about you? You said you’re in grad school for math?”
Carys’ slight smile told her that she’d felt it too—Greta’s veer away from the moment this was surely building to.
“Yup. Partial differential equations. I love it.”
“What will you do with your degree—teach?”
Carys scrunched up her face. “No. I like teaching people how to do math one-on-one, but no way could I deal with a university. All the hoops you have to jump through and the departmental shenanigans. Nope.”
“So…you’re getting a PhD to…what?”
“To get to do math for seven years!” Carys said, grin so bright there wasn’t the slightest doubt in Greta’s mind that she truly did love math that much.
“Wow. That’s a lot of work.”
“It’s the most fun. I love grad school. I wish I could stay forever.”
She called to the bartender, and he brought out bowls of water for Teacup and Horse.
Greta slipped away to use the bathroom, and when she got back, Carys had paid the bill and gotten them another Bloody Maria each to take with them.
Carys waved off Greta’s thanks and asked, “Wanna see something?”
Teacup and Horse seemed just as happy to follow Carys as Greta was, and they walked back out to the street. Horse had tired of sniffing everything and was now loping easily next to Teacup. At the sound of a noise behind them, Greta turned to see the animals had drifted closer together, Horse’s angular shoulder blade nearly touching Teacup’s mane.
It was adorable and a sound escaped Greta that she usually only made in response to TikToks of kittens perched on the backs of goats or small cows nuzzling ducklings.
Carys turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
“I think,” Greta whispered, “that they might be falling in love.”
The second it was out of her mouth, she cringed at her cheesiness, but Carys just glanced behind them and nodded. “Teacup is a total flirt. Love this for him.”
They walked downriver, but despite the cool drink she was sipping, Greta felt red-hot.
“So, are you from New Orleans?” she asked.
“Yup. Born and raised. My mom and grandparents too. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
“Are you close with your family?”
“Nope. Here.” Carys pointed to a set of ordinary concrete steps against a retaining wall. She looped Teacup’s lead around the handrail, tying it in a knot. “I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she said, stroking his nose. “He doesn’t do well with stairs,” she explained. “But he’ll be fine here.”
Carys climbed the stairs, and Greta and Horse followed. At the top was a glassed-in overhang and then a walkway perpendicular to the river. When they walked to the end of it, they were a story above the Mississippi and could see for miles.
The sun had begun to set as they walked, and it painted the sky cotton-candy pink, sherbet orange, and a purple the color of a bruise. The clouds reflected them from above, the water from below, the whole vista glowing like a Renaissance painting.
“Wow,” Greta breathed.
“Yeah,” Carys sighed. “This is one of my favorite spots.”
Horse seemed to share her opinion because he plopped down, put his chin on his paws, and stared out at the water.
“Listen,” Carys said. “I have to go in a few minutes and get ready for my tour.”
“Tour?”
“I give haunted tours of the Quarter in the evenings,” she said with a smile.
“I should’ve guessed from your expert storytelling at the convent.”
Carys tipped an imaginary hat in thanks. “Anyway, I wanted to run something by you.”
“Um, what’s up?”
“It’s just, I really. Really. Want to kiss you.”
Greta’s head went empty.
“Wait. I… Oh. What?”
Carys smiled and stood in front of her. She put a hand very gently on Greta’s cheek.
“I would really like to kiss you. And I wonder what you think about that?”
Greta’s heart was pounding so hard she was concerned about toppling off the overpass to the ground below—really, this should have some kind of guard rails. It wasn’t safe!