Now, April Fools' Day makes me think of Holly.
Holly - Friday, April 1, 2016
It’s a new month. I love you.
My heart’s racing, and I haven’t even made coffee yet. I stare at the kitchen counter across from me, wiggling my toes in my fuzzy slippers.
My gut is churning. Butterflies? Makes sense—it’s the first time Keith’s told me he loves me. He loves me! But it’s the first time he’s told me he loves me—and it’s a fricking text. Incompatible things curdle inside me like that cement mixer shot of Irish cream and lime juice that Courtney and I took on a dare.
Hang on. It’s April Fools’ Day. I thumb-key back:
Are you serious?
I watch the screen for a second, but that’s stupid. Of course, as soon as I set down my phone, it beeps, so I check it.
I’m sincere. Just a fool for love.
Ew. Seriously? I set down my phone and cinch my bathrobe. Keith isn’t usually cheesy. Is this a side of him I haven’t seen yet? The cement mixer shot comes to mind again, so I open the coffee grounds and inhale. Toasty, magnificent dirt. I love YOU, coffee!
I get it now—I told him in March it was too soon to use the “L” word since we hadn’t even been together a month yet. He’s being funny. And romantic.
The coffee maker clucks to itself like Dad’s little chickens. The mug up front is the red “GRATEFUL” mug my client gave me last Christmas, full of chocolates, with an evergreen tree in place of the “A.” I should be grateful. It can’t be bad that Keith loves me—or thinks he loves me. Yeah, it sucks that he texted it. But this is good. Nothing's perfect. Nobody's perfect.
I type back:
I love you, too!
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