I’ve never quite understood their dynamic. They’ve been together well over two years, yet there doesn’t seem to be a sense of permanence in their relationship. He claims the reason he won’t move in with her is her snoring. But I know there’s more to it. It’s like she never wants to go to his place. Sure, hers is a tad nicer, and, according to Linc, way too girlie for him.
I get it. We’re mechanics. More often than not we have grease and grime under our nails. I can only imagine Tiff’s place is full of things like lacey pillows, curated gallery walls, scented candles, fairy lights, and floral prints.
Suddenly, I have a strong desire to know what Kenna’s apartment looked like. I don’t really get the girlie fru-fru vibe from her. I imagine her place would look somewhat like mine did when Christian was little—like a tornado had just come through. The thought reminds me of Amelia, and I smile.
“Kenna, you remember Lincoln. And this is Lincoln’s girlfriend, Tiffany.”
Kenna and Tiffany shake hands. Tiff looks between us, curious. She glances back at Lincoln for a second, then says to Kenna, “Wait. Are you the same girl Lincoln told me about last week? The stranded one?”
Kenna holds up her arms, palms up. “Guilty.”
“And you’re living in Carter’s basement?”
Kenna nods. “Also true.”
“And you’re both single parents.” Tiffany’s head bobs between us. “All the makings of a great romance novel, if you ask me.”
Kenna’s blush is bright red.
Lincoln stifles a laugh then whispers to Tiffany, “Babe, I told you not to say anything.”
“Say anything about what?” I ask.
Tiffany smiles deviously. “About how you talk about her incessantly.”
I don’t spend a lot of time with Tiffany. Mostly because I don’t do girlfriends, and that limits our opportunities to hang out as couples. But I’m beginning to get the hesitation on Lincoln’s part. The reason they’ve been together so long without the mention of a ring. She’s brusque. Unabashedly inappropriate. Adolescent even. Have I never seen this before? Surely I have.
I punch Lincoln’s bicep. “Thanks, dude.”
He holds up his hands. “Wasn’t me.” He takes the cart from Tiffany and starts pushing it away. She follows as he asks, “Since when do you know about romance novels? You never read.”
She scoffs. “Are you calling me stupid?”
The bickering continues until they’re out of sight.
“Sorry about that,” I tell Kenna. “Tiffany can be…” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t even know what Tiffany is. I don’t get what my brother sees in her.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“Are you calling Lincoln shallow?”
A hand flies to her chest. “Of course not, I—”
I grab her hand. “I was kidding, Kenna. And I suppose Tiffany is attractive.” I look into her eyes. “Not as beautiful as some, though.”
I wait for the blush. It doesn’t come. Is she getting used to my compliments?
“You suppose?” she says. “How can you notknow? Big boobs. Blonde hair. Legs up to there. She’s practically a supermodel.”
I shrug. “I guess I just don’t notice those kinds of things.”
“I’m calling bullshit. You’re a guy, Carter.”
“I mean, yeah, sure, she’s attractive. But physical looks aren’t what I see in people. Kindness. Generosity. And acceptance—especially when it comes to Christian. Those are the qualities I find irresistible.” I squeeze her hand. “You also being gorgeous is just the cherry on top.”
Now she blushes.
I’ve basically just told her she’s my dream woman.
