I could hear Jude exhale, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
Misty.
“Maybe they just want to give other businesses a chance, you said they were trying out different places. They’ll call you again, no one is serving better food than you in this town.”
Eventually, I would have to face the fact that whatever Jude and I had going on was a hell of a lot more than neighbors being friendly. Today I’d talked to my mother, to the guys who called to check in, I even talked to Pri, they all tried to cheer me up and got nowhere. A minute of talking to Jude and I was feeling like a different person.
“Thanks for saying that, but tell me about your day. We always talk about me. Are you up for dinner?”
This time he was the one to sigh. “Sure. I’m still at my office though. My boss just told me I need to pitch my project to the board, because she’s not sure if she can convince them to approve it on her own.”
I almost scoffed at that. “No fucking way. If they pass on your book truck they’re fools.”
He laughed, making me feel ten feet tall. “If only I could get you a vote on that board. She thinks Misty’s been convincing people the project is too expensive. I hate public speaking, but I don’t have a choice.” That fucking woman again.
“Fuck, why is she like this? I don’t want to even think she had anything to do with me getting dropped from Ergos, but that’s a hell of a coincidence. She won’t be able to keep getting away with this shit. People will eventually catch on. Besides, you’ll blow them away, babe. Don’t worry.”
I heard a gasp over the phone and bit back a curse. I’d kept the endearments to a minimum, but occasionally I slipped up. We were okay like this for now. Just friendly neighbors.
If I told myself that enough times, maybe I’d actually believe it.
“When do you want to come over?” The need in Jude’s voice set off every nerve in my body.
“I’ll stop to pick up some stuff to make dinner. Is an hour okay?”
I could already taste his mouth, my hands tingling from wanting to touch him.
“One hour.”
When we ended the call, the tension in our voices was palpable.
I needed to think about what was happening with Jude, but this Misty woman seemed hell-bent on running me out of town. I was feeling lost and scared for my business, and tonight I wanted some comfort. The only thing that’d made sense this entire day was the thought of driving to Jude’s little house and sinking into those blue eyes for a while.
chapter twelve
jude
“Is that you, neighbor?”
“Yes, I’m back,” I called out, a smile already forming on my face from finding Nesto in my house. Tomorrow I was going in front of the board to pitch them my project. Nesto, knowing how much I’d worried over the past week, had texted me about coming over. I said I’d leave the door open for him, and he responded by promising he’d have food ready for me when I got back.
We were still doing our “we’re just neighbors” thing. Except after that night he lost his dinner service gig, the boundaries were getting more blurred every day. There were moments I felt like I was playing with fire letting myself depend on Nesto like this, but I couldn’t walk away yet.
I distracted myself by looking around my living room as I cooled off after my run. My house was a small colonial, which I’d decorated in a mid-century style. There was a lot of art on the walls. Some I’d picked up while travelling, and others were prints of pieces from my favorite artists. I never envisioned having a man in my home when I moved to Ithaca. Back then all I wanted was space. I’d relished the freedom of picking out colors for the walls and furniture I loved without having to think about whether my family would think it was too “prissy” or get on my case about my “weird” tastes.
I looked at a print of a Maine landscape by Marsden Hartley I’d hung right above the couch. Right across from it, and above my little mantle was my favorite piece, a large print of Kerry James Marshall’sSchool of Beauty, School of Culture,which I bought after seeing his show in New York City a couple of years ago. It was a scene at an African-American beauty salon, an explosion of colors and textures. It was busy and beautiful, and I loved it.
I was musing on how nice it was to be able to display it without having to give anyone an explanation, when Nesto called from the kitchen again, his voice brimming with humor. “Are you gonna come in and say hi? Or am I just here to make you food?”
Nesto was loud.
He didn’t walk into the room I was in to tell me something. He would just holler from wherever he was, calling out what he wanted to say.
He could have an entire conversation like that.
He’d laughed when I told him if he wanted to keep communicating while in separate rooms, we’d have to get walkie talkies. I’d asked him how his voice could stand it. He just smiled and shrugged then said, “I’m Dominican.” Which I was learning was the explanation for quite a few things.
I smiled as I walked into the kitchen and ran my hand across his back while I opened the fridge, looking for a cold drink.
