“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Sam started, peeling the scarf from his chin, “but I’ve had my own shit to deal with. Who handled fourteen green designs in that time, start to finish? Oh, yeah, me.”
“Does it take both hands to stroke that ego?” Riley asked. “Or can you get by with just one?”
“Going out on a limb here,” Erin said, her hand sweeping over the group. “I bet everyone wants the long version. Especially the part about the bathrooms unless that’s some kind of weird sex thing.”
I went all the way back to that heinous interview. I knew, even then. The second I saw her, I knew. I’m not shallow enough to say it was love at first sight, but something about the way she talked about history and preservation and restoration and sustainability struck a nerve. It wasn’t about architecture, either.
Andy and me, we’re a lot like those old homes. Steeped in history. Living in the present while bearing the weight of the past. Secrets hidden beneath the surface. She believed in histories and she believed they were a critical element in understanding the present. Andy showed me that it was possible for someone to know my soul.
The group fell silent when I finished. Their loaded glances pinged back and forth before everyone spoke at once.
Erin: “It’s ridiculous that you all let him go through this shit by himself, and no one noticed anything. Way to be self-involved.”
Riley: “So what are the odds you’re going to cry in a corner like a little girl when she shows up?”
Shannon: “February totally counts.”
Sam, passing a bill to Riley: “I’ll take that bet.”
Erin: “Am I going to get to meet this chick?”
Nick: “If it doesn’t work out for you two, are you good with me asking her out?”
Lauren: “She should be here any time. I’m getting her drunk tonight and talking some sense into her skinny ass.”
Matt: “Like I told you on the roof, you gotta find time to work your shit out.”
Riley: “Would it be possible for me to watch from the closet? I’ll buy the booze. I’ll paint your toenails. Anything you want. Just let me watch. Maybe take a few pictures?”
Shannon: “Just ask yourself this: what would Ryan Gosling do?”
Matt: “You are one pervy son of a bitch, RISD.”
Nick: “That’s it. We’re having a stag party tonight.”
Riley: “The Gosling would build her a fuckin’ house.”
Shannon: “Build her a fuckin’ house!”
Sam: “Bro, the only stag party we’re having is with actual deer. Our boy’s lost his taste for fresh tits and ass since getting engaged. And now this guy’s licking his pussy-whipped wounds, too. Shambles.”
Matt: “Dude, he doesn’t have time to build a house right now. But,” he pointed at me, “I’m betting she doesn’t want something new.”
Erin: “Still rocking the slimy player thing, Sammy?”
Riley: “Yeah, but if I know anything about Princess Jasmine and Optimus, PJ’s buildin’ the better house.”
Sam: “I prefer slippery.”
Shannon: “We’ll do anything we can to help, Patrick. But if you ruin this wedding, I’ll tear your balls off and feed them to you.”
Nick: “Whoa. This escalated quickly. I’m really impressed by the full impact of the Walsh squad. Also, a little scared of y’all.”
Erin: “May the odds be ever in your favor.”
I already knew they weren’t.
Chapter Twenty-Four
