Beau stood up and walked to the bar cart. “Yes, but are you serious about her? Do you envision building a life with her?” he asked, posing dramatically.
“Honestly,” I said, “yes. I miss her when she’s not there, I enjoy having her around, she gives me something to look forward to, and I like her little quirks. I also appreciate that she has her own business and values entrepreneurship. I think we complement each other well. I could envision building a life with her, yes.”
Beau nodded. “Excellent. Because she just set your car on fire.”
“What the fuck?” I ran to the window. Billows of black smoke poured out of my car. “Shit!”
Sirens blared in the distance as I raced downstairs.
“Are you all right?” I asked Brea, hugging her to me as the flames roared out of my car. I held her out at arm’s length to examine her. “Where’s your hat?”
Brea gestured helplessly. “I think I put in too much oil, then it shot up, and my hat just lit up like a bonfire. I screamed and threw it off and accidentally tipped over the oil, and then…” More helpless gesturing.
The fire department showed up and doused the car with water. In a matter of seconds it was dripping and steaming…and ruined.
“God help me,” the fire captain said when he saw us.
“Snacks and refreshments for the first responders?” Brea’s father offered, sailing outside with a platter of appetizers. “We don’t have any duck, but we have a lovely fennel-and-apple salad, prosciutto, and imported cheese. Please, everyone can just help themselves.”
Brea slumped back down onto the steps as the firemen happily ate.
“So,” she said.
“So.”
“I guess you’re ready to ghost me, and I’ll just be that story you tell people about the crazy girl you dated.”
I leaned over and kissed her. “I think I’ll keep dating you,” I whispered against her mouth, “on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t tell my mom I had dinner with your parents. She’s going to want to host a dinner, and then you’ll really see what crazy looks like.”
38
Brea
Istill reeked of burnt fur the next morning. I also felt terrible for ruining Mark’s car.
“I’m going to make it up to him,” I said to one of the Roombas. I was alone in the apartment. My parents were doing some retail therapy after the excitement of yesterday.
It was the weekend, so Mark should be home. His condo was bare bones, so I decided to do a little sprucing up for him. My parents had cabinets full of random knickknacks, and they were always telling me to give them to friends. Who didn’t want a vintage belt buckle from the 1950s?
Some of these knickknacks would look nice in Mark’s condo, especially since they did lean more masculine. I loaded them up in an old suitcase, along with some equipment to make him a nice brunch, and headed over to Mark’s condo. But when I stood outside, I suddenly wondered if this was actually a good idea. Was it weird that I showed up with stuff to decorate a condo that I’d only been in a couple times and make him breakfast?
“Are you here to see Mark?” an older woman wearing a large hat and a disapproving expression asked me. “Honestly. It’s a Sunday. He can’t just have women coming in and out at all hours! I live across the hall from him, and it’s nonstop! I’m taking the matter up with the condo board.” She turned to the doorman, who was clearly struggling not to roll his eyes.
“Miss,” he told me, “you’re free to go up and see Mark.”
“You’re letting that girl in here? She smells like a trash-can fire.”
I snuck past the woman berating the doorman and made him a silent promise that I was going to bring him a muffin later.
The wagon wheels squeaked as I rolled out of the elevator after it dinged on Mark’s floor. His door loomed in front of me. My stomach churned.Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I could either dump my load and escape down the stairs, or I could actually, you know, be an adult and talk to Mark.
I chose the stairs. I was in the process of picking my baking equipment out of the wagon when the door was flung open and a squat, chubby corgi sprinted out of the apartment, Beowulf hot on his heels.
“Why did you open the door?” a man who sounded like Mark asked in exasperation. “Carter, what the hell?”
