Kissing Galileo by Penny Reid

Author:Penny Reid [Reid, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cipher-Naught

Chapter 14

*Emily*

“I think my coat hangers are out to destroy me.”

“Not this again.”

“What? I’ve never talked about my coat hangers before.” Anna narrowed her 100 percent unperturbed eyeballs, impressing me with her ability to chop onions without crying.

“Yes. But you always think inanimate objects are out to destroy you.”

“Because they are.”

“Fine. How are your coat hangers plotting your doom?” I lowered the heat on our noodles and added a dash of olive oil. It was spaghetti night. We hadn’t had spaghetti night in a long, long time.

“I go to pull my coat off of its hanger, right?” She popped a bit of diced onion in her mouth and chewed. “And it catches on my purple dress behind it—which was nowhere near the coat—and pulls my purple dress off its hanger and onto the floor of the closet, right on top of my muddy boots. Which means I have to get the dress dry-cleaned—again—before this weekend.”

“Your wet boots? Which closet was this?”

“The front closet, by the door.”

“Why wasn’t your dress in your bedroom closet?”

“You’re not listening. How is it possible that pulling out my coat could’ve caused a catastrophic clothing casualty? The coat was nowhere near the dress!”

“Maybe it’s the dress, not the hangers.”

“How do you mean?” Anna placed her hand on her hip, her expression far too serious for the ridiculousness of this conversation.

“Perhaps your purple dress has masochistic tendencies and it’s not the hangers at all.”

“Hmm. That’s a thought.” Now she rubbed her chin. “I’ll let you know if I’m suddenly inspired to have Luca spank me when I wear it and report back.”

“ANNA!”

“What?”

“Overshare,” I said through my laughter.

“What? How are scientific findings overshare? And what if the purple dress does make me a masochist? Wouldn’t you want to know? Maybe you’d like to borrow it for a hot date.”

Still chuckling, I split my attention between her and my spaghetti sauce. “Yeah. Not likely anytime soon.”

“Hey, so.” Anna wagged her eyebrows. “You and Professor Hanover sure are spending a lot of time together.”

I frowned before I could halt the tragic change in my expression and had the displeasure of watching my friend’s face fall as a result.

Pasting a persevering smile on my mouth, I concentrated on stirring the tomato sauce. “Not really. I only see him once a week or so.” We text every day, but that doesn’t count.

She paused her onion chopping. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Nah.”

“Nothing?”

Unbidden, my brain conjured Victor’s handsome, earnest face. Also unbidden, remembering the story he’d told me (about his father and the deception and the charity) after my car-fail. How could anyone be so unfeeling toward their own child? And how had that lifetime of cruelty shaped my beloved, sweet Victor? I couldn’t shake the intermittent plagues of angry and melancholy now that I knew the whole story, they followed me around like gnats.

“As I’ve told you many times, Victor and I are just friends.”

She gave me a small smile, openly inspecting me. “Well, there’s nothing ‘just’ about friends. Friends are the best.

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