My heart twists, wishing I could say yes, but knowing I can’t. “It’s just temporary. And it’s fine, really it is. It’s just a rebound. That’s all it can be. I’m fresh out of the land of the dumped and he’s, well, he’s complicated.”
She tilts her head, as if she’s mulling that over. “Does he seem complicated when he’s with you?”
It’s a valid question and the answer’s a resounding no, but also we don’t always let other people see our complexities. I certainly don’t. And I’d be wise not to fool myself again.
“No, he doesn’t,” I answer truthfully. “But I remember what you said. I deserve a man who isn’t so…shut down.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Maybe he’s not so shut down anymore. I don’t know. But I know this—I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says gently, then pauses and adds, “or him.”
I flinch. I didn’t expect her to saythat.Could I hurt him? It hardly feels like I have that power. But I suppose we all can hurt each other. “I don’t want to hurt him either. That’s why we have rules. So no one gets hurt.”
“I love my brother. He’s a pain in the ass and a weirdowho’s obsessed with owls and his cat and free food, but he also cares deeply for a few people. He’ll go to the end of the earth for them.”
Something warms inside my chest. “I believe that.”
She reaches for my hands. “And you’re a beautiful, brilliant, tightly wound optimist who believes in love—and in doing things at the right time, in the right order, the right way.”
It’s her way of sayingtake your time.
“I don’t want either of you to get hurt,” she adds again.
“I know,” I say quietly then I hug her.
I stay a while and help her close, catching up on her customers’ latest requests for stories about aliens with five dicks, and cinnamon-roll hot nerds who are secretly obsessed with their curvy best friends, and rival chocolate shop owners who have to compete in the town treasure hunt. As we re-shelve books, I feel lighter and freer now that she knows things aren’t entirely fake with her brother.
But there’s someone else I should tell.
On the way home, I tap out an email to Elena.I wanted to let you know I’ve been fake dating my friend’s hockey-playing brother to stick it to my ex, but along the way the lines started to blur.
Ugh.
I try again. But as I re-read each draft, something sticks in my gut. It’s the sinking realization that I can’t confess this behind the shield of email. I’ll have to say it in person, especially since I’ve been avoiding it.
I slump down in the seat. Sometimes adulting just really sucks. Like when I walk into my place, feeling both better for having told the truth to Clem at least—and a little achy, knowing that both this fake romance and the real fling I’m having with my friend’s brother is cruising toward its inevitable end.
But I’m going to enjoy the ride.
38
SOME PEOPLE
REMY
No one needs a new set of napkin rings, or napkin rings at all. No one needs an ice cream maker, or soup tureen either.
But cookware? Gently used woks? Dutch ovens? Never-been-used blenders?
Pretty much anyone can use those. Which is why I’m beaming like a proud mama as Caroline’s friends arrive at Lake’s family’s equine therapy ranch, and make their way to the edge of the bird sanctuary—escorted by Gavin and Mira—where we’ve set up picnic tables to collect the secondhand items.
By the time the Something Shared Shower is underway, the table is stacked high with all sorts of kitchen gadgets and household items that Caroline and Parker are going to take to a local charity that helps foster kids set up their own homes when they age out of the system. Caroline came to me for suggestions of charities and this was my top pick. The videographer circles, capturing the scene for Fresh Face. Good. I’m glad the brand is capturing something meaningful on camera.
“I told you it wouldn’t be like a traditional shower,” I sayto Lake, pleased that Caroline kicked that old-fashioned tradition to the curb, choosing instead to give back.
We’re standing by the fence at the edge of the property as guests mill about, snagging appetizers from The Green Pantry, a Cozy Valley bistro where I placed a last-minute order yesterday.
He leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Spoiler alert: I’ve never been to a traditional shower.”
I tense for a second, but then decide to seize the moment. The afternoon sun is bright, highlighting his strong jaw, his cool eyes, and his intensity. An intensity I want to know more about.
