26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Patrick
After two nights straight at my parents’ house, aka Campaign HQ, I needed a break. I called up Robby and Matteo. Tonight. Drinks. On me.
Robby arrived first. He started in on his latest quest to find musicians willing to start a band.
At this very pub, a guy sat on a stool in the corner on a makeshift stage, singing solo and strumming his guitar. “You ever think about doing that?” I nodded toward the guy.
“Me? Sing in public?” Robby made a stink face.
“What do you think you’re going to do with a band?”
“Practice. Lots of practice. I’m hoping I find someone with a garage so we can practice there.”
Matteo showed up a few minutes later. He sat down and asked how we were both doing.
Robby made a show of rubbing his eyes. “Am I seeing things? Who’s this guy asking how I am? Being all polite? He didn’t rough up my hair or whack me on the back.”
I laughed. “Matteo’s in love .”
“Shut up, am not.” Matteo folded his arms and scowled .
“Ha! There’s my big brother.” Robby smacked the table. “You couldn’t put up that nice front too long.”
We ordered drinks when the waitress came by. Matteo unfolded his arms and leaned them against the table. “Look, I’m not in love, okay? At least I don’t think? I mean, I’m something. I don’t want to mess up with Carmen. She’s leagues above me. I am out of my depth. Help.”
Robby and I exchanged baffled looks.
“What?” Matteo looked between us.
“ You’re asking me for help? With dating?” I did the exaggerated eye rub thing too, just to drive the point home. “Who even are you?”
“I don’t need help with dating. It’s with…relationships.” He picked at a small square napkin marked with the pub’s logo. “What you and Marcy have. How do you do that?”
Wow. That sure was a question. “I’ve known your sister since we were kids. We have a history. I don’t know how to make that work as advice for you.”
“It’s always been so easy between you two. Is that the secret? Friends first? Did I already mess up?”
“You can’t mess up more than proposing to your coworker after one date.” Robby patted his chest. “That honor goes to me. I’m the worst at dating.”
Again, not exactly a brag. Our drinks arrived, and Matteo nodded at me. “So tell me. About you and Marcy. Not like anything gross,” he added quickly. “She’s my freaking sister. I just mean, how the dating started and all that.”
I was going to be honest. About it all. “I’ve liked Marcy…since I was old enough to crush, actually. I just hid it. Because I didn’t want to wreck things between us.” I pointed to the three of us. “If I’m being real here, I’ve always felt more for her than just a friend, but I didn’t let myself do anything about it. I guess what changed is, I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Not my campaign. Not…life.”
Robby looked at me, wide-eyed. “Whoa. You’ve loved my sister all that time?”
My only hesitation answering came from these guys knowing me so well for so long. This felt like a religious confession. “Yeah. I think I have.”
“Well, that doesn’t help me .” Matteo sighed. “I’ve only known Carmen under a year. I noticed her right away when she started working at your office. But I held back. I could have asked her out months ago, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
Back to napkin shredding. “Out of my league, I told you. I finally worked up the nerve, I guess.”
Maybe I was a jerk for thinking it, but I liked this less confident version of Matteo. So often he acted like some Adonis gifted with attracting women. To see him vulnerable made him seem more human.
“Well, lookie here,” a voice said from behind me. “The Instagram Hottie.”
I turned in my seat. Eric Ribben. He was only five years older than me and already balding, which, hey, that was tough. It did make me wonder whether his uncle’s fluffy hair came from chemical means or surgery.
“Too bad all those desperate women following you aren’t in our district,” he went on. “A popularity contest won’t win you the mayor’s office.”
Robby snorted. “Isn’t that exactly what an election is? A popularity contest? I mean, literally. The person with the most votes kinda means they’re the most popular.”
Loved that guy. “So, Eric. Just stopping by to say hello, or did you want an autograph? ”
Eric’s tough guy facade wavered. He shifted his weight as he stumbled over his next words. “This would have been easier if you hadn’t run. You’re making this hard for everyone.”
Matteo barked a laugh. “What, are you against democracy?”
Eric’s face reddened. “No. I just. I don’t… It was easier when no one else was running.” He lowered his voice, less menacing now and more pleading. “Why are you doing this?”
Eric came off as nervous, unsure, and not at all like his uncle. We hadn’t had a face-to-face conversation since we’d declared ourselves candidates. It was strange we hadn’t run into each other until now. Where had he been?
“I care about our town. I want to make a difference. Birchwood Hills deserves options for who they elect. That’s why.”
He didn’t say anything.
Robby snorted again. “This guy.” He threw a thumb Eric’s direction. “Doesn’t get he’s not guaranteed the mayor deal. He’s not even an incumbent!”
An oddly specific burn.
Eric reddened further. He looked at the floor. “I’m going to leave now.”
And he did. He walked all the way out of the pub.
“What was that about?” Matteo angled to see out the large front window as Eric crossed the street and faded into the distance.
“That was weird, all right,” I said. “His bravado disappeared pretty quick. It almost seems like he isn’t into the idea of running. Like someone told him this would be easy and now he’s finding he might not win.”
“Obviously, it’s his dad—I mean, the uncle,” Matteo said. “He wants to continue his reign of terror.”
“Terror is too far,” I said. “I just don’t agree with his back-end deals and rezoning proposals.”
Robby leaned in. “Look, you need to beat this guy to a bloody pulp. ”
“I’m not beating anybody. At least not physically. The guy looked pitiful.”
Matteo held his pint glass up in a cheers. “You’ve got the upper hand. We can use this. Ethically.”
I clinked my glass against his. My hype guys would have my back, no matter what.
As much as I loved my time with the guys, I missed Marcy. We were seeing each other pretty often these days, but it never felt like enough. There was always something to get in the way—pesky day job (that I cared about), the campaign (which I also cared about), and tedious things like needing to buy food and shaving cream, none of which involved spending time with my favorite person.
I was beat after a long day at work, but I needed food, and not takeout at my parents’ house. I grabbed a cart from the front of the grocery store and glanced at the store app on my phone, trying to make sense of their coupon point system. My phone lit with a text. The dopamine hit came fast.
Marcy: I want to see you
Me: Perfect. I also want this thing that you want.
Marcy: I’m coming over
Not perfect because I wasn’t at home.
Me: I’m actually at the grocery store. My fridge threatened to unplug itself and walk out.
Marcy: Which store?
Which store? What, was she coming here?
Marcy: I’m already in the ca r
I texted her my location, smiling like an idiot that my girlfriend wanted to see me so bad, she was driving here to grocery shop with me.
Ten minutes later, Marcy found me in the pasta aisle. She threw her arms around me and went right for my face. With her lips.
I embraced her, lifting her off her feet, spinning her away from the cart.
“Ooh, I like that in a man,” a woman’s sassy voice cut in behind us. “Romantic.”
Neither of us stopped kissing.
“Okay now, there are children here,” the woman said.
I set Marcy down and we parted. I sheepishly shrugged at the woman, who managed to both grin and scold us with a smirking-but-sour expression.
“Nice to see you too,” I told Marcy, still a little breathless.
“It’s been a wild few days and I know you’ve been busy.” She looked past me to the cart. “That’s a lot of carbs. Are you headed to deli and meats yet?”
We wandered to the meat section, with Marcy adding several items to the cart. This was nice. Domestic and ordinary. This was probably what it would be like when we lived together—if. If. Hopefully, when.
Almost as if she heard my thought, she blushed after tossing a package of dried fruit into the cart. “I didn’t mean to shop for you. I know you like these healthy snacks and this is a good price.”
“You know me well.”
She blushed again. “I guess.” She looked away. “Sorry. This is so embarrassing. I like, demanded to see you and then practically attacked you in Aisle Six.”
I stopped walking and pulled her toward me. I kept my voice low. “I loved every second of it. I love that you wanted to see me so much you drove here to kiss me in a grocery aisle. Under harsh lighting.”
She squinted. “It is awfully bright in here.”
“How about we finish here and then I’ll make you dinner at my house? We can strategize on asking about the money for your bakery.”
She pulled away and started messing with her hair. “How about dinner but we skip business talk for tonight.” She took command of the cart. “Let it just be us together tonight. No planning.”
Whatever she wanted was what I wanted. “Sounds good to me.”