But before I climb the porch, I reopen the text I received earlier.
Dan
They’re going to have to rip out the shower to repair the pipe. It’s going to be a few weeks of work between the plumbing, drywall, and tile. I can find some other place to stay if that’s too long.
It’s the first I’ve heard from him since that morning in my kitchen almost a week ago.
It’s not that he’s gone silent. It’s that I haven’t even seen him. He wakes up every morning before the sun and disappears. Theonly evidence that he’s still staying in my house is the sound of my front door shutting every so often, followed quickly by the sound of his bedroom door shutting, leaving me to replay our last conversation over and over. The one where I thought that maybe, possibly, Dan McBride wasflirtingwith me.
Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe he was flirting, but he regrets it, hence the disappearing act.
He never finished what he was saying, and it appears he doesn’t feel the need to. His absence says everything.
Which sucks, because despite his very clear message that he’s not interested, I cannot get the man out of my head. As I’m cruising the aisles at the grocery store, I imagine turning a corner in the meat department and finding him there. I stop at a red light and turn to the car next to me, hoping to see him behind the wheel of his BMW. I look for him in the stacks at the library, at the bar at the Half Pint, in the next booth at Pete’s Diner.
He’s everywhere in my head and nowhere in my reality.
So when Violet texted Thursday morning and invited me over to learn all about the wonderful world of roller derby, I happily accepted. With Grace enjoying Decker’s retirement and Wyatt practically living with Owen, my summer break has been the biggest snooze on the planet. I was damn near ready to try Hinge again when I got the text from Violet.
“Carson!” The green front door flies open, and Violet waves me in like she’s trying to direct a jet in for a landing. “Get in here!”
Violet’s house is bursting with mismatched furniture, and the walls are adorned with a wild and vivid assortment of art. It’s cramped and cluttered, walking the line between chic maximalism and hoarder. It’s obviously a college town rental, and yet it feels more like a home than my own house. And I grew up there.
I love it immediately.
Violet leads me to a green couch printed with yellow cabbageroses. Her laptop is open on a dinged-up coffee table that screamsSomeone found me on the side of the road!
“You want a drink? We’ve got water, Coke Zero, and KO’s kombucha.”
A woman with a bright red wolf cut and a septum ring walks into the living room, a rainbow mug in her hand. “It’s apple hibiscus,” she says. “I made it myself. The mother is three years old!”
“This is Knockout, KO for short,” Violet says. “I’d offer you alcohol, but KO is sober, so we don’t drink in the house.”
“I actually brought a water bottle,” I say, holding up my ever-present Owala. “I’m still recovering from the flask.”
Violet winces. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m usually such a mother hen when I’m drinking with friends. I hope the morning after wasn’t too bad.”
I’m mid-sip when I have a vivid flashback of the car ride home that night, which now takes up so much of my mental real estate that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to think normal thoughts. The water shoots down my throat, and I launch into a coughing fit.
Violet gives me a wide grin. “Oh my god,spill!”
“What?” I gasp.
“There’s clearly a story there. I mean, I saw that man. KO, you should have seen him. He looks like he’s special forces, all tall and built with a buzz cut. And he was driving the fanciest BMW I’ve ever seen! I bet that thing cost more than my student loans, and I havetwomaster’s degrees. Is he military? CIA? He looks like he knows seven ways to kill a man and eight ways to dispose of the body.”
“He works in finance,” I say.
“Ugh, a capitalist,” KO groans.
“We’re all capitalists, KO,” Violet says.
“Is he directly responsible for this nation’s income inequality, or is he simply covering his eyes to prevent him from feeling guilt about the downfall of society?” KO deadpans.
“I think he does something with investment banking?”
Violet glares at KO, who is silent for a long beat before shrugging. “As long as it’s not private equity. If you were in love with a guy in private equity, I definitely wouldn’t share my kombucha with you.”
“I’m not in love with him!” I cry.
