Free Chocolate for Two by Maria Murnane Page A

you think he is.” My ex–baseball player dad was undeniably bright, but he lacked a college degree, hada sketchy employment history, and was far from what I’d call…
refined
.
    He never forgot my birthday, though.
    Ah, Dad.
    I smiled and was about to speak again when I realized that I’d never seen my mom’s ring. I wondered where it was. My dad was remarried now, but he clearly kept his first wife’s ring in a special place, physically and emotionally.
    I reached under the covers to touch my own ring, which suddenly took on a new meaning.

chapter eight
    “Hey I have good news. I—whoa—what happened to your face?” Jake opened our hotel room door and froze mid-sentence when he saw me.
    I touched my cheek. “I fell asleep by the pool. Am I totally fried?”
    “Define
fried
.”
    “Do I look like John Boehner?”
    “That super tan guy in Congress who cries a lot?”
    I nodded.
    “A little. You’re more on the red side, though. He’s sort of orange.”
    “Oh, frick.” I pushed by him and ran into the bathroom to inspect the damage.
    Total tomato.
    A fried red tomato.
    Lovely.
    Jake followed me into the bathroom.
    “So, as I was saying, little red one, I have good news.”
    I looked at him. “Good news? Do tell.”
    “I got us courtside seats to the Heat game tomorrow afternoon. They’re playing the Lakers.”
    “Courtside seats? Nice!” I wasn’t much of a basketball fan, but there was no denying the allure of courtside seats to a Heat-Lakers game. Although now any mention of the Lakers mademe think of how Jake’s mom wished he had chosen LA over Brooklyn…and me.
    Blech.
    She clearly thought he was out of my league. What made it worse was that part of me secretly thought the same thing.
    Jake nodded. “My buddy on the medical staff there hooked us up. It’ll be fun.”
    I put my hands over my cheeks. “You think your buddy can hook me up with some ointment?”
    He put his hands over mine. “I’m sure it will calm down by the party. You’ll just have a healthy Florida glow.”
    I looked up him. “You mean like from a nuclear reactor?”

    A few hours later we left the hotel and turned off US 1, after traveling north toward Jupiter Island, where Jake’s parents lived. Soon we came to a small bridge. As we slowed to cross it, I noticed a tall lighthouse to one side.
    “What’s that?”
    “That’s the Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse. It’s sort of
the
landmark down here.”
    I looked out at the structure, which was the color of the Golden Gate Bridge. “It’s beautiful, Jake, so serene and elegant, don’t you think?” I loved being so far away from the chaos of New York City.
    He reached over and interlaced my hand with his. “Yep.”
    After crossing the bridge, we passed a marina and soon were on a one-lane road. “Now we’re on the island,” he said. “It’s pretty tiny.”
    “How tiny?”
    “Tiny as in this is the only road.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “For real?”
    He nodded. “They don’t even have a post office. The population is less than seven hundred.”
    “
What?
I’ve eaten at restaurants in New York with more people than that.” No wonder Jake’s mom was uncomfortable in a big city.
    We drove by several high-rise condos, which were soon replaced by progressively larger—and more beautiful—properties. The narrow street was lined with banyan trees, low shrubbery, and flowers of every color—each leaf and petal perfectly manicured, trimmed, and landscaped.
    Soon we passed a golf cart cruising down the street just like a regular car. The man inside waved to Jake, who waved back.
    “What was that?” I asked.
    Jake shrugged. “That’s what people on the island do.”
    “They drive golf carts down the street?”
    He nodded.
    “Do you know that guy?”
    He shook his head. “People also wave at strangers here.”
    I laughed. “We are
definitely
not in New York.”
    As the island narrowed, the houses grew bigger and more lavish. Eventually the street became so