He shrugs. “I’m used to people staring. Barely notice that shit anymore.” He grabs a few of our favorite frozen snacks from childhood and throws them into the cart. “Plus, I’m not interested in dating them.”
“Ah. I get it. Don’t want to tie yourself down. Makes sense.”
“Didn’t say that,” he replies, stopping the cart and gripping its sides. “I’m just not interested in dating or fucking any of these women.” His gaze meets mine. Although his hat conceals his eyes, there’s a flash of something unreadable behind them, sending tingles down my spine.
I let go of the cart, allowing him to take over pushing as I follow him down the next few aisles. I’m not sure what to think about the comments he’s made and my body’s bizarre reactions to them.
He’s never wanted a serious, long-term relationship. Always wanted the benefits without the strings. But the way he talks about the future and about how he’d treat the right woman makes me wonder whether he’s finally ready for a change. Is he ready to become the man I always knew he was deep inside? The kind you can give your heart and body to, knowing he won’t break it?
But what will that mean for us? I can’t imagine his girlfriend and eventual wife will take kindly to having me around. He lives in a world where drama thrives, and having a woman as his best friend is asking for a shitstorm of epic proportions.
thirty-one
Jakeand I are sitting cross-legged on my living room floor, locked in an epic battle of Monopoly where I’m finally dominating the game instead of having my ass handed to me as usual. Excitement sparks within me when Jake rolls a seven because I know exactly where he’s going to land and how much he’s going to owe me.
“Fuck me.” Jake groans, dragging a hand down his face.
“Boardwalk with a hotel. Two thousand dollars, please,” I reply, attempting to prevent myself from giggling. Relishing every second of taking his money and making him mortgage his properties.
He slowly counts his money, brow crinkled like he’s doing complex mental math. I think this might be the final nail in his coffin, and the glee within me increases.
“Ugh. You win.” He tosses the rest of his money and property cards on the board before leaning back on his elbows. “Did you cheat? You’ve never been any good at this game.”
“I give thanks to the sugar and Smirnoff Ice gods. They’ve decided to bless me with good fortune for consuming largequantities of them.” I lift my almost-empty bottle and Chewy SweeTART bag in the air. “Ahhhh! Victory is mine!”
He chuckles. “Smirnoff Ice and SweeTARTS make you a Monopoly savant?”
“Pretty much. You’ll never know their power because you despise sweet and sour candy and refuse to touch the nectar of the gods,” I reply, pouring a hefty amount of candy into my mouth before flashing Jake a smile with my cheeks stuffed with SweeTARTS. He falls over, roaring with laughter, causing me to almost spit everything out. Thankfully, no SweeTARTS were wasted. That would be a horrific crime.
As Jake cleans up Monopoly, I flop on the couch, covering myself with a soft cream blanket. I also switch to water because my stomach is ready to revolt at the thought of downing one more Smirnoff Ice, yet fine with more sweet and salty snacks.
Jake collapses next to me, propping his feet up on the coffee table. One of his long-term habits that drove his mom crazy. A pang of sadness hits my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push out the heartache that comes from thinking about Judy. It won’t be long until there’s a For Sale sign in the yard, and then someone else will move in. A true end of an era.
“What are you overthinking?” Jake nudges me with his knee, raising his eyebrows.
I hesitate, unsure whether to bring up selling his mom’s house. He seems to handle talking about her better than he did right after her death, but it’s not him I’m worried about. It’s me. I’m an emotional basket case, crying at the drop of a hat, and I don’t think either of us wants to endure me sobbing again tonight.
Deflection it is. “You know, a lot of things.”
“Uh-huh. Care to tell me about at least one of them?”
Come on, brain…think of things.
I look at the ceiling and press my lips together, buying myself one more minute to think of a believable answer. My brows arch when it hits me: I’ll put him on the spot.
“Lately, you’ve vaguely alluded to the possibility of settling down. Are you finally ready to find a partner?”
Swallowing hard, he runs his long fingers through his hair, tugging on the wavy ends as his forehead furrows. “I’m open to it for the right woman,” he answers, taking a swig of his beer. “My career doesn’t make it easy for me to date. I spend almost three hundred days on the road, so it’s hard to imagine how a relationship would function when I’m not physically present most of the time.” He shakes his head, leaning forward with his arms on his legs. “The past six weeks are the longest I’ve been in one place in fifteen years. The strings I had to pull. The things I threatened…”
“I get it. Brian and I were only apart for a couple of months, and look how shitty that turned out. I don’t think I could ever do long distance or be with someone who traveled that much.” I tuck my legs underneath me, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I don’t know how relationships work when one person is always gone.”
Jake nods, his expression solemn. “Yeah. Finding the person who wants to share their life with me and is willing to deal with my baggage is probably impossible.” His shoulders drop, and he stares at his feet. “Not having a good example of a healthy relationship in my life likely doesn’t help, either. I know my parents were happy, but I barely remember anything about their marriage before my dad died.” He takes a deep, steadying breath and then slowly exhales, almost like it’s a coping mechanism to deal with the pain.
“I know the feeling. My parents had the opposite of a good marriage, unless you’re a fan of couples yelling at each otherconstantly, then one of them leaving and never coming back. Let’s just say, I learned a lot about whatnotto do.”
“Look at us. Two relationship misfits hoping to find true love eventually,” Jake says, lifting his head to look at me. His steel-blue eyes pierce into my soul, searching for a response to a question he’s not asked yet. He glances away, taking another sip of his beer before setting the bottle on the coffee table. “You still owe me an answer about getting married at forty if we’re still both single.”
I shake my head, refusing to answer and believe he’s serious.
