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Last Sunday, not-Renee—whose not-name is growing on me—was suspicious of Jack’s lack of knowledge about his brother’s wedding cake.
After all, how could he spend all that time at a cake tasting . . . with Viv . . . and not be able to describe what it’s going to look like?
“I can’t either,” Viv said. “Once the “flavor meld” was ironed out, I figured the lovebirds could decide which symbols celebrate their unique relationship without my input.”
“I hear you,” Jack said, grinning.
Renee’s gaze dropped to Viv’s outfit. “I suppose we can’t all be creative,” she said.
“Not in the same way, no,” Viv said, wondering why Jack’s girlfriend was trying to score points and why she was disappointed that he was with someone who did that.
“You should see the way she orders coffee,” Jack told Renee.
“That’s not creativity, that’s survival,” Viv said.
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The snow outside is fluffy and white and lovely and I wish with all my heart that it would go away and take the wind chill with it.
Even though most of my current WIPS are set in spring and summer, I keep trying to put coats on my characters, like a mother making her kids wear sweaters because she’s cold . . .
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Earful of Cider 