I sit with that idea. I’m grateful for my girlfriends, definitely, but I don’t have a lot of close guy friends in my life. My dad died when I was young, and when my stepmom made our family famous, I could no longer trust a guy’s intentions. Ruby was very discerning with which crowds she let me and my stepsisters hang around, and I’m grateful for that. We were young and rich, and she didn’t want us to get taken advantage of. As a result, I’m awkward around men. I know I am. The only reason I could act semi-normal with TJ at the gala was because I was hiding behind a mask.
But I’ve been normal—or as normal as I get—around himwithoutmy mask on. Here at his house and again at the retirement community. Even via text, if we ignore my errant thumbs-up emoji.
Inspired, I pull out my phone and tap out a message. He’s been a friend to me, and I want to be a friend to him, too. Apparently now we’re the type of people who text, because ever since TJ sent me that picture of the doormat, we’ve kept up a constant stream of conversation.
Lucy
You scored! Good job, Prince Charming
I send the message, feeling proud of myself. Look at me go, having a functioning relationship with an adult male. But then I read my text back. And regret immediately kicks in.
Prince Charming, Lu. Really!?
I hadn’t meant to sound flirty. I was only trying to let TJ know I noticed his touchdown celebration. I lean back into the couch and sit there for a second, debating whether or not to edit the message. But I don’t want to be edited with TJ. Changing my words now would almost be worse than having sent them in the first place.
Lucy
Your chickens are doing great, btw. I said hi for you, like you asked. FYI, I don’t think they like me. But they’re tucked in and all watered. Heading home soon!
I send off my message, satisfied that it sounds friendly and down to business. My work here is done. I get up from the couch and grab my bag. I get out the small gift I brought for TJ. It makes me smile, and I hope it makes him smile, too. I lean it on the tiny table behind his key bowl and cast one look back at his home before I head out into the snow.
Chapter 22
TJ
I’m at an upscale restaurant, sitting across the table from Amber, also known as “hot girl from the MKE mixer” in my phone. We’re having a delicious lunch. She’s as gorgeous as I remember, and she’s trying really hard to engage me. She keeps leaning in and giggling at things I say, even when I’m commenting on something stupid like the impressive quality of the table napkins. Usually I’d be eating this attention up right along with my salmon and salad, but today all I can think about is Lucy.
MyfriendLucy.
I keep telling myself that, but it’s no use. I didn’t want to get invested, but I’m afraid it’s too late.
“I’m going to freshen up.” Amber bats her eyelashes at me and slides out of her seat. Before she leaves the table, she leans over and places her long fingers on my bicep. “I’m free all afternoon.”
I smile at her, hoping she can’t tell it’s forced. She leans forward and places a kiss on my cheek, which is an aggressive move for a first date. Props to her for her boldness. She hits me with a sultry smile before sauntering off. She must’ve picked her dress, which hits above mid-thigh, and her soaring high heels for my benefit.
I feel bad that I’m not holding up my end of this date, but the only feeling I have as she struts away is relief. I take my phone out of my pocket and pull up the picture I took of Lucy’s gift.
It’s a cross-stitched hoop. There’s a chicken in the center, and beneath it, she’s stitched the wordsS-lay all day.
I grin just looking at it.
Lucy can cross-stitch. Lucy made a chicken pun. Lucy left this at my house … for me. It’s all I can think about.She’sall I can think about. I want to see her and talk to her, and none of that is lending itself to a very good date with Amber.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but for the first time since Tess died and I decided I never wanted to get so hung up on a woman again, Iwantto get hung up on a woman.
Or at least, spend more time with one woman in particular. I fear I’m already hung up on my friend.
A text notification drops down at the top of my screen from Anton.
Anton
Look who I found
He’s attached a picture, and when I open it, I’m greeted with the sight of Lucy curled up in a chair with a laptop resting on her knees. She’s wearing a baseball hat, and her hair hangs like curtains around her face. The way my pulse kicks up is borderline concerning, but I’m typing back before I can think more about it.
TJ
Where are you?
