“You sweet city girl,” he says in that velvety rumble that I’ve grown addicted to. “They wouldn’t be entire heads. Just the brains.”
I let out a cackle that would make a swamp hag proud. “You’re right. My mistake.”
“Okay, this is the bedroom,” he says when he turns his camera around. Maroon sheets and a navy comforter. Do all men limit themselves to these colors for bedding? Why is it always navy and maroon? There’s one pillow in the middle of the bed, and one nightstand on the right side.
Then the camera turns one-hundred eighty degrees to the kitchen/living area/bathroom. I see a built-in dining nook that serves as a TV stand and mail collection area, and a black leather recliner facing it.
“Well, congrats,” I say when the tour ends. “Despite becoming a zombie, your taste suggests that you’re still a basic human dude.”
He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Now you know why I prefer to take you to the apartment above the bar.” Plopping down in the recliner, he slings an arm behind his head. “Are you still up for a rom-com, or are you too tired?”
I yawn but insist I can power through. “Do I get to pick this time?”
“Absolutely. What are we watching?”
“Hmm.” I ponder my short list of favorites. “How aboutThe Wedding Singer?”
“That’s a classic. Let’s do it.”
We start it at the same time to ensure the dialogue is synched. Adam Sandler’s character gets left at the altar by the woman who Ross cheated on Rachel with, Drew’s boyfriend is a walking red flag right from the start, and my mind starts to wander down a familiar path. “I’ve always wanted to be more like her.”
“Drew? Why’s that?”
“She has this enviable softness to her. An easy smile. She has her own unique aura, of course, but no matter what she’s doing, there are no hard edges. She’s never too much, you know?”
“Mm,” is his only reply.
I’m not sure why I’m following this thread in my mind, but I keep going. Maybe I’m just tired, or maybe it’s because my period is in two days. I don’t know. “In reality, my sister is way more like her than I could ever be. The angel of the family. The one who naturally fits into the shapes society deems correct.” I sigh. “Meanwhile, I’m over here stomping around with my big feet and my large body, being too loud and too angry. A ball of sharp points. A middle-aged porcupine.”
“I like your sharp points.” His voice is soft. Reverent. “That’s just the outermost layer anyway. You take that coat of knives off and the rest of you is butter. Anyone paying attention could see that.”
My heart swells, and I want more than anything to believe him.
“Hey, Linds?” he says, his brow furrowed as he stares at the phone. “Can I call you back?”
Clearly, he’s getting another call. At this late at night, I’d assume any call I’m getting is an emergency. “Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just my friend, Gemma. I’ll talk to you later.”
The call ends as I’m saying goodbye.
Gemma. Who the hell is Gemma?
Nic
Gemma has either called me or shown up at the bar for three straight days. This is after not hearing a word from her for over a month. Vyla’s theory is that she sensed I’m seeing someone and hates not being the center of attention.
“Toxic exes can always tell when you’ve moved on,” she said. “Her favorite toy is being played with by somebody else, and because she’s a fucking brat, she’s trying to take it back.”
Vyla’s not a fan of Gemma. Her vitriol comes from a place of love, but it always makes me uncomfortable. Gemma and I have known each other for years. She’s the reason I’m here in Mapletown. I owe her a lot, and that includes not letting others talk shit about her, even though my relationship with her has been, at best, rocky.
I’m trying to look at her reappearance in my life as a good thing. We’ve been on-and-off for as long as I’ve known her, and for the first time, I want to lock that off switch into place. Sheneeds to see me with someone else to fully understand that this dance we’ve been doing can no longer continue.
The only problem is that I’m not technicallywithanyone. Lindsay and I are in our forties, so it’s silly for us to put stock in the label of boyfriend/girlfriend, and I know that for her, it’s a way to protect herself from getting hurt. She doesn’t know me well enough to trust me with her heart, or with Jules, and this is how she chooses to protect her bubble. That’s fine with me, because I’m patient, and she’s worth waiting for. Even though we haven’t had a discussion about dating each other and no one else, I’m going to proceed as if we have.
There’s no one else I’m interested in anyway. I’m not sure how, but I want to build a future with Lindsay. It’ll likely take time, and there are logistics that need to be figured out, but I’m ready to have those discussions.
I’m not about to let Gemma or anyone else get in the way.
