9
Buzz
"You have to move out,"
I announce to the two-hundred-and-forty-five-pound pantless gorilla currently occupying my sofa, watching a game on the flat screen with a massive bowl of nachos between his legs.
Howie looks up at me, confused. "What?"
"Courtland and I are getting married."
He chokes on a nacho, jerks upright to cough it out, and mutes the game. "What?"
I drop down onto the couch next to him and repeat.
"Court and I are getting married. It's a condition in Grandpa Arnie's will. In order to inherit the inn, he needs to be married. It's only for six months."
"Yeah, right."
Howie smirks, notices some guac that's landed on his thigh, and scoops it into his mouth.
Charming.
He also has a knack for missing the bowl when he pisses, hogging all the hot water, and he's eating me out of house and home. I love him more than life itself, but honestly, I'm glad I finally have a reason to kick him out.
"I don't get why you marrying Courtland means I have to move out."
"Because I only have two bedrooms."
His brows waggle. "And?"
"We're going to sleep in separate rooms, you idiot."
He folds his arms across his chest, like my words have finally sunk in.
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"You could move in with Mom and Steve?"
"And deal with their two brats? No thanks."
"I think Ramzi might be looking for a housemate."
"Didn't you once say he has the maturity of a five-year-old?"
"I did."
I glance over and smile at him.
"You'd be a perfect match."
"Fuck off."
"Dude, look, I don't know where you should go. But bottom line, you have options. Also, you made three mil from sponsorships and endorsements last year. That buys a pretty sweet place around here."
"You're serious? You're actually kicking me out? After we shared a womb together and everything."
"You were more bearable back then."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I point at the piles of his shit scattered around the living room.
"You're messy."
I tap his bare thigh.
"You don't wear clothes."
I point at the bowl of tacos resting between his legs. "You're always eating. I love you, man. I really do. And I know you're going through it, with your injury and your career in limbo, but I need my space back. I need my life back,"
I cry out, not realizing how worked up I'd gotten.
"Gee, tell me how you really feel,"
he grumbles, his voice low and defeated.
Guilt curls in my gut, but I stand by what I said. Howie was only ever meant to move in for a few weeks before returning to Boston. When he realized he could do rehab from here, a few weeks became a few months.
And it is too much.
Not just for me, but for him, too. He can't keep moping around half naked eating everything in sight. It's time he stops licking his wounds and starts dealing with his shit.
"I really think this is for the best. For both of us. It's time you figure out your next move."
He sighs.
"I know. You're right. Sorry about…"
His eyes dart around the room.
"Everything. I've been a bit of a mess lately. Literally and metaphysically."
I grin.
"Think you mean metaphorically."
He stuffs his mouth with nachos.
"Whatever."
"You're allowed to be a mess, but you've done the moping, it's time to start the doing."
"I agree. When do you need me out?"
"Court has just left for Boston. He'll be there for Thanksgiving, and he'll maybe stay a day or two with his dad and his family after that. He and I need to be married by the first of December."
Howie nods slowly.
"And you're really going to marry him?"
"I am."
"I get why Court needs to do it, but it's a lot to ask of someone."
"He didn't ask. I offered."
"Why?"
"Because that inn means a lot to me, too. It belongs to him, and I want him to have it."
"And the real reason?"
"That is the real reason."
Howie holds my gaze for a moment.
"If you say so."
And with that, he grabs a handful of nachos and turns the TV back on.