47. “All My Love” - Noah Kahan
Heath
We didn’t go with traditional Halloween decor—jack-o’-lanterns on the steps and skeletons in the front yard.
Since the house already looks like something out of a horror movie, Walker decorated the outside with the creepiest stuff: white gauze that looks a bloody lot like cobwebs, lights that flicker at odd intervals, and a fog machine aimed at the front door.
From the eaves, she hung black Spanish moss, which has a tendency to stick to my hair whenever I walk underneath it.
We bought the house last month. It took some sweet-talking from Walker and an offer of double the value to convince the owners to sell.
Now that it’s ours, I have a hard time imagining the future anywhere but within these hundred-year-old walls, complete with the creepy-as-fuck paintings hanging on them.
I drop the bag of dry ice onto the kitchen floor, and Poe runs out from under the table.
Two days after we moved in, Walker announced that the place needed a cat.
We returned from the shelter that afternoon with an all-black monster who immediately decided that, while he will tolerate Walker, he fully intends to murder me in my sleep one day.
I break the ice into small chunks with a screwdriver. We found a recipe online for a spooky-ass cocktail, and for the first time, I have the privilege of relieving Pierce of his duties as host and bartender.
Walker swings into the kitchen doorway. “Pierce is here.”
I follow her to the porch. He’s been much happier since getting his painting back, even though he had to pay a million more than the first time he bought it. When Maeve climbs out of the passenger seat of his car, I lean toward Walker. “See? Definitely hooking up.”
She elbows me in the ribs and pastes a giant smile on her face as they approach. “Definitely not.”
Maeve is wearing her family’s pearls, also rescued from Walker’s devious plot to auction them off to the highest bidder. The girls exchange hugs, and Pierce and I slap each other on the shoulder.
“Come on back.” I lead them through the garden to my favorite spot. The contractors finished up last week, just in time for our first poker night.
There’s a big stone terrace with a fire pit, multiple seating arrangements, a hot tub, and a large wooden table and chairs.
The fire is already blazing, the table scooted up close to it.
Walker placed throw blankets on all of the chairs earlier.
The temperature has already dropped ten degrees since this afternoon.
“This is terrific, mate,” Pierce says, looking around.
Lux, Rhett, and Walker round the corner of the house. “Dude.” Rhett drags out the word as he walks over. “This place is creepy as fuck.”
“It’s Walker’s jam.” I give him a one-armed hug. He is once again the proud owner of that vintage Stratocaster, although I suspect he will never allow Walker to live down what she did.
The girls head inside to grab the cocktails. I distribute three beers while we wait, and Pierce blurts out, “Isabella broke up with me.”
“Fuck. You okay, mate?” It’s a relief to be the one asking instead of the one being asked.
“I’m fine,” he says. “I thought she was the one, but she didn’t.” He tilts his bottle back and takes a long drink.
“The right one’s worth fighting for,” I say.
“Oh, god.” Rhett wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re about to become sickeningly repulsive, aren’t you? What happened to that ‘disappoint early and often’ shit?”
I shake my head and take a swig of beer. “That shit was bogus. When you’re with the right person, they make you want to be a better version of yourself.”
Walker comes outside through the French doors leading from the kitchen. She’s holding a tray of bubbling drinks, courtesy of the dry ice. Her eyes meet mine, and heat grows in my groin. I will be divesting her of that skirt later.
She gave up Oxford and her ambition of becoming a professor.
She says it wasn’t because of me. I think she did it for herself after realizing that she already had everything she needed right here.
She’s been spending all of her free time decorating the house, but once she’s done with that, I plan to encourage her to apply to work at the Archives.
My girl has manuscript dust in her veins.
She needs to be somewhere that can flourish.
“Why is your girlfriend trying to poison me?” Rhett looks at the tray of boiling green drinks like it might kill him from close proximity alone.
“Don’t drink it until the dry ice is gone,” Walker says. “It should only take a few minutes.”
Lux tells each of us to grab a drink for a photo. We throw arms around shoulders and toast the camera she has set up on a tripod. Only Lux shows up at parties with camera equipment. “To the best friends in the world,” she calls out as a series of flashes signal the pictures being taken.
She didn’t win her purse collection at the auction, but she recently announced her intention to start collecting vintage Chanel, so maybe Walker did her a favor after all.
We settle at the table and start the game. Walker is the dealer tonight, and I slip my hand up her thigh as she’s handing out cards. She jumps in her seat and shoots me a lethal side-eye. I pretend not to notice and toy with the hem of her skirt, which leaves little to the imagination.
She’s been spending more time with her mum.
We even have dinner with Eviana once a week.
She’s dating a new bloke, and this one doesn’t seem too bad, although Walker’s still not crazy about him.
I’m not sure there will ever be a guy she thinks deserves her mum, but as long as Eviana is happy, Walker doesn’t say much.
“Have you gone to see your dad yet, Heath?” Rhett asks after everyone has submitted their ante.
I take a sip of my drink before answering. It has a sweet melon-and-citrus flavor. “I’m not visiting that asshole. Ever.”
Walker shifts beside me. It’s been a frequent source of contention between us. She thinks I should go see him, because she doesn’t want me to hold on to resentment. I usually combat that by asking when she last talked to her dad.
The great Robert Lawrence is serving five years in the Ridgeford Correctional Facility for decades of tax fraud, which is the official way of saying he’s locked inside a fancy-ass resort-style prison for white men with too much money and way too much fucking power.
When he is released, I have no doubt he will try to ruin me. Until then, I plan to forget he exists.
A casual argument breaks out between Rhett and Maeve over whether to accept his grievance or not. I glance at Pierce, but he and Lux are having a secret conversation, one which is causing both of them to look pissed.
“Dealer decides.” We set that rule at the first poker game, when a similar argument broke out over whether Lux was allowed to submit Maeve’s best friend for revenge or not.
Walker permits Rhett’s grievance, to which he whoops.
“Lux, is it true that Jojo Banks is going to be at your Gatsby party?” Maeve asks.
Lux looks relieved to end her conversation with Pierce. “That’s what her assistant told me.”
I squeeze Walker’s thigh. “You ready to rub shoulders with popstars again?” I murmur.
She splays her hand so that her fingers dip down between mine. “I’d rather rub something else with you,” she whispers.
My cock instantly goes rigid. I’m on the verge of sending everyone home so we can explore that idea when her face grows concerned.
“What’s going on?” she says to Lux. I’ve missed whatever is being discussed.
“Nothing.” Lux waves her hand before wrapping a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m selling. I just met with the estate agent yesterday.”
“Why?” Maeve says. “You love that house.”
Lux shrugs, causing the blanket to slip from her shoulders. “It’s time for a change.”
“Okay.” Pierce sounds suspicious as hell. “Where are you moving to?”
“Carter asked me to move in with him.” Then, as if her life depends on getting out of here as quickly as possible, she grabs her empty glass and says, “Anyone else need a refill?”
No one says anything. We’re still coming to grips with her announcement.
“What?” She sinks back into her chair. “We’ ve been together for a year and a half.”
“Carter.” I twirl the maraschino cherry on the end of my toothpick. “The same wanker who nearly got my fist in his face for treating you the way he did at the beach house?”
She huffs out a sigh. “He was worked up that day. You caught him off guard.”
“Doesn’t he have a condo ?” Rhett says, like that’s a crime against humanity.
“ You have a condo, mate.” I dunk my cherry into my drink and swirl it around.
“Mine’s at least in the fucking Dankirk Tower. His is like, down on Twenty-Eighth Street or something,” he says.
“So he has a condo,” Lux says. “So what? He’s not poor .”
“Practically,” Rhett mutters.
Maeve ends her analysis of Lux’s face to say, “Why doesn’t Carter just move in with you? Your house is much bigger and nicer.”
“I think he would feel emasculated moving in with his girlfriend.” Lux looks at me. “Wouldn’t you feel that way?”
I gesture around us at the terrace that my girlfriend found without my help. I tap the toothpick on the side of my glass before pulling the cherry off with my teeth.
“If my girlfriend had a place like yours, I’d sell my condo immediately and move in,” Rhett says with a laugh.
“It doesn’t matter, okay?” Lux says. “I’ve already made up my mind. Now can we finish the game?”
We return to the poker and pretend not to be disturbed by this toxic relationship. In fact, if Pierce and Rhett are up for it, I am down to pay Mr. Carter Fitzgerald-Smythe a little visit, maybe introducing my fist to his jaw.
A while later, Rhett folds and announces, “I need to take a shit. It might be a while. ”
Walker gives me a look that says You’re in charge of bathrooms tonight.
Fucking terrific.
Lux retreats to the house several minutes later. The temps are plummeting now that the sun has fully set.
“You cold?” I ask Walker.
“A little.” She gives me a smile that goes directly to my groin.
“I’ll grab some more blankets.” I plant a kiss on the top of her head as I stand, filling my lungs with her scent.
At the terrace doors, I pause. Voices float out from the kitchen. I’m not sure why, but I stop and listen instead of going inside.
“You can’t do that, okay?” Rhett says. “You can’t put yourself in danger like that.”
“Who says it’s dangerous?” Lux says.
“The drug world is always dangerous.”
* * *