The Chicken Sisters - K.J. Dell'Antonia Page 0,119

somewhere above them and another answered it. “I want you, Mae,” he finally said. “And I want our family. But I’m not sure I want this.”

Feeling like she was taking a step out onto one of the fallen tree’s fragile branches, Mae spoke softly. “I’m not sure I want this either. But my mom might be really sick, and then there’s my aunt, and Mimi’s. I feel like I might have to decide to want it, to make it what I want. But I don’t want to do it alone.”

Jay was silent, looking down, his hands still in hers. Should she let go, walk away, let him think? Softly, she loosened her hold a little, and Jay loosened his, too, and just as she was about to fully let go, just as she was feeling her heart open in her chest and shift, like it couldn’t hold all it was feeling, Jay tightened his fingers on hers again, and she squeezed back, and she was crying, and he pulled her into him, and there were pointy scratchy branches between them, but it didn’t matter. She sat on his knees, pressed her face into his neck, and felt the stubble of his cheek on the soft skin under her ponytail.

“Can we just hold on to this and see what happens, Mae? Not have a plan, for now, not roll forward, just see?”

Mae without a plan was like Mae without breathing. She wasn’t sure she could do it. “I’ll try.” She tilted her head back to look at him, and this time he kissed her lips, soft, nibbling kisses that became a longer, lingering one.

Jay pulled back, and this time he really was smiling. “I guess I know you’ll be planning. Maybe just try not to get stuck on one plan. Make a lot of different ones. With room for me in them.”

Mae couldn’t speak without starting to cry even harder, and she was feeling the pressure of this stolen moment. The last thing she wanted was for Sabrina and her cameras to come thumping down this trail. She nodded, hard, then, when he didn’t release her hand as she tried to pull one away, wiped her face on his shirt.

Jay laughed and let go of her, and through her tears, Mae laughed too. This wasn’t an answer, not at all—she had nothing firm to cling to or plan on—but she felt as though she had found something that would hold her up just the same. They both got up and began brushing themselves off, and as they did, Mae’s phone rang.

“I should just make sure that’s not Jessa,” she said, taking it out of her pocket and flipping it faceup to see the name on the screen: Lolly. “Huh.” She started to return it to her pocket, but Jay stopped her.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m curious. See what she wants.”

“What, answer it? Now?”

“Yes, now.” He waved his hand up, as if pushing the phone at her face. “Go on.”

Mae swiped and, glancing at Jay, put the call on speaker instead of bringing the phone to her ear. “Hey, Lolly,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I just watched your Facebook Live, Mae. It was excellent. Just really, really good. I wanted to congratulate you. It must have been hard, with your mom and all, but you really did a great job.”

Mae glanced at Jay, wanting him to see that Lolly’s opinion didn’t mean as much to her as it once would have. Barbara’s back room was scarcely a Sparkling situation, and it didn’t need to be, and that was the point. “Thanks, Lolly. I appreciate it.” The next question hung in the air, unasked. Why bother calling about it? Mae wasn’t even sure she cared.

“You really went to the heart of what that space needed, and it made me think about Sparkling, and how you might be able to do the same there—get below the surface, really dig into what people need from their space.”

What people need from their space, Mae thought, is not to have those needs ripped open on television. Barbara would be okay. The people around her already knew her, and her world wouldn’t change much. Plus, she had different problems to worry about now. But for most people, that kind of forced exposure would do so much more harm than good.

Lolly was still talking. “I talked to Meghan and Christine, Mae. They both agree—you’re the perfect co-host for Sparkling. We’re done experimenting with other candidates. So, what do you think? Are