Free The Unexpected Everything by Morgan Matson Page B

toasted. And hash browns instead of home fries.”
    â€œGotcha,” Carly said as she turned to go.
    â€œAnd can you make the bacon really crisp?” Palmer interjected, leaning slightly across the table. “Like, more crisp than you would think. Cook it to an amount of crispness you think that nobody would ever want, and bring that out, and it’ll be perfect.”
    â€œSure,” Carly said, but still in the same tone that she’d taken my toast order, so I wasn’t sure she’d actually listened to any of this.
    â€œThanks,” I said to Palmer once Carly had departed.
    â€œI’m just trying to save us all some time,” she said with a grin. “Remember the Bacon Incident of last May?”
    Tom shuddered. “I do.”
    I rolled my eyes and reached over for Palmer’s water glass to take a sip. “It wasn’t an incident,” I said, then focused back on Tom. “But why are you celebrating Christmas in June?”
    â€œThe holidays . . . just aren’t the holidays without a Country Table ham,” Tom said to me earnestly. “This year, that’s what I want for Christmas.”
    I just stared at him for a moment. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œIt’s for an audition,” Palmer explained, and I could hear the pride in her voice. It was one of the reasons that they worked so well together. The two of them were beyond supportive of each other, and they both still seemed to think they’d won the lottery by being with each other. If they weren’t Palmer and Tom, it would have been pretty insufferable. “In New York,” she added.
    â€œOh,” I said, feeling like things were starting to make more sense. Tom had gotten an actual agent when someone had seen him in last fall’s production of You Can’t Take It With You . Now he went into New York City pretty frequently to audition, clutching the headshot we’d all helped him choose. He’d booked some regional commercials, but so far, nothing national. “But why are you dressed like that now?” I asked. “Aren’t you hot?”
    â€œA little bit,” he admitted, taking a sip of his water. “But I really want to get into character. Like, why does David—I’ve decided his name is David—care about ham so much? Why does he want a ham for Christmas? Is something else missing in David’s life? Probably, right?”
    â€œAnd the sweater helps you come up with answers to thesequestions?”
    â€œIt can’t hurt,” Tom said, taking another long drink.
    â€œAnyway,” Palmer said, turning to me. “So you got a call this morning at seven a.m. . . .”
    â€œRight,” I said. “It’s a Baltimore area code, so of course I answer, and—”
    â€œWe’re here!” I turned to see Bri arriving at the foot of the table, with a grumpy-looking Toby in tow.
    Tom sighed. “I’ve lost my seat again, haven’t I?”
    â€œFraid so,” Palmer said cheerfully as Tom slid out of the booth and went off in search of a chair.
    â€œHi,” Bri said as she slid in next to me. “Sorry we’re late. I literally had to drag Toby out of bed.”
    I looked across at Toby, who was now slumped against Palmer, wearing what were unmistakably Bri’s clothes, nice ones, looking like she was about three seconds away from falling asleep again. “Hey, Tobes,” I said.
    â€œIt’s so early ,” she moaned, rubbing her eyes. “And why does nobody at this table have coffee?”
    â€œWe’ll get you some coffee,” Bri said, already looking around for a waitress. “You big baby.”
    â€œBabies don’t need coffee,” Toby said, burrowing her head into Palmer’s arm, who gave her hair a distracted pat. “Because people actually let them sleep.”
    â€œYou needed to get up,” Bri said firmly.