Page 76 of Not Home Alone

“That was literally the sweetest thing she’s ever said.”

He stands up and smiles down at me. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I can’t stop beaming at him, it’s so dumb.

“A lot of memories here,” he says.

“Yeah. Scene of the crime.”

He groans and covers his face.

“I can’t believe you did this, though, it’s so sweet. Are you hiding from Quinn?”

“Not at all. It was really just an excuse to watch you in action,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me down to sit next to him. “You’re incredible, you know that? So commanding and creative and passionate.”

“Thank you.” I shrug and pat him on the shoulder, like I’m congratulating him on acting like a supportive boyfriend. “It’s a lot of fun, actually.”

“Don’t deflect, Tucker. You’re brilliant. And so lit up. Can I make a donation through The Moody Group? Do you need more money for props and costumes?”

“No, thank you. I like how creative we’re forced to be with a micro budget. That’s half the fun.”

“I get it. I just… I don’t want to pressure you, but I don’t understand why you aren’t doing this. As a career.”

“Five minutes are up!” April calls out. She’s the stage manager when Joy isn’t here.

“I, um… Honestly, I’ve been wondering this on some level myself all week, but I don’t have time to really think about it or do anything about it. I have to…”

“I just want you to know that you can talk to me about this stuff. If you want to bounce ideas off me,” he says. So genuine. So supportive. So… loving?

“I have to get back to Scene Three,” I say.

But in my mind, I’m thinking, I’m now at 60–40 for The Real.

TWENTY-FOUR

GRANT

The past few days and nights, I’ve been doing a couple of things I’ve never really done before. I’ve been wooing a woman, and I’ve been shoveling snow.

Being a homeowner, it turns out, bears a lot of responsibility. But I like it. I had told the property manager—I still don’t believe he’s named Colin, but for Merrily’s sake that’s what I’ve been calling him—that he doesn’t have to send the usual maintenance people because I wanted privacy. So I’ve been shoveling snow on my property and Mrs. Crowley’s. Nobody asked me to do it, but I actually enjoy it. I like clearing a path. It’s exactly the same as what I’ve been doing with Merrily, ever since the night we went up to the top of Holly Mountain. I’m clearing a path between us so she can join me wherever she wants to, whenever she’s ready.

I get the feeling she’s almost ready.

After putting the shovel back in the garage and stomping my feet to get the snow off my boots, I go back inside the house and pull out my phone, planning to text Merrily about meeting her on Main Street when she’s done helping out at her dad’s store.

But there’s a missed call from my dad and an email from him with the subject “Timeline.”

Grant,

I just got a call from Voss. He’s impatient. If you don’t sign the contract to succeed me as CEO by December 26th, I’m moving forward with his offer. He’s ready to close by the end of January, and I need to plan the transition.

Also, please check out this link to an office building in Midtown Manhattan. Possible site for HQ, should you take over.

Best,

Robert

Fuck.