Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Questions ping-ponged through Carson’s mind as he tried to focus on Uncle Arnold’s financials. Was he annoyed or grateful that so many people were meddling in his life? How long could he stay in Cloverfield before he needed to head back to D.C.? Where were he and Liz headed?
Ugh. It was like he was back in angsty teenager mode all of a sudden. Did she like him as much as he liked her?
While part of him asked the question mockingly, another part of him gave it serious thought.
Sure, she told him there hadn’t been anyone else for her, and yes, she said she wanted to see him again, but she hadn’t actually answered the question of whether or not she wanted to give them another try.
Had she?
Dammit. Being an adult was supposed to be easier.
But at least now he recognized he was being an idiot. And he recognized he could do something about it.
He called the front desk and extended his stay at the inn, grateful it was Maya who answered. While she sounded happy about his change of plans, she didn’t dig into his reasons.
Next, he sent a text to Liz. Hope things are going well. Can’t wait to see you again. Perfect. Not too sappy, and not needy or desperate. Just enough to let her know he was thinking about her.
Satisfaction morphed into something close to giddy schoolgirl when she hearted his text and sent back her own. I am now. Still have an hour or two of work. Got another couple of issues to deal with. Nothing bad. Just business. Good for my bottom line. See you after lunch?
Carson’s fingers flew across his screen. Can’t wait to see your bottom line again.
Liz texted back the eye-roll emoji.
He chuckled. So far, so good.
As Carson turned his attention back to the Crawford’s Manufacturing file on his laptop for what seemed like the hundredth time since his return, his thoughts sobered a bit.
Although Liz was by far the biggest consideration when it came Cloverfield and his future, she was by no means the only one. It was long past time for him to have several other conversations.
Following a few additional quick texts, Carson made his way out to his car and hit the road. It wasn’t long until he pulled up in front of the blue split-level where Matty had grown up.
Guilt punched Carson in the gut. How many times had he considered calling Matty over the years? Texting him? But then deciding he didn’t want to be reminded of Cloverfield. Or his parents’ divorce. Or Liz.
God, he was an awful person. He definitely wouldn’t have blamed Matty for hating him. Except he didn’t. Although Carson would’ve deserved it one thousand percent, Matty didn’t have a hateful bone in his body.
A fact evidenced by the Matty-sized object in a red shirt that barreled out the front door and raced toward his car. Flinging the passenger’s door open, he plopped into the empty seat, a grin plastered from one ear to the other. “Hey, Car-man! Where are we going?”
“Is the Moo still open?”
“Yep.” Matty’s head bobbed in affirmation. “The ice cream flavor this week is cookies and cream.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Carson felt himself unwind as Matty chattered about his work, about the neighbors’ new dog that Matty played fetch with over their shared backyard fence, and about how Sue at the corner store needed to get her act together and update the dessert selections.
He felt another kink untwist when he reached the Moo-N-More, the old-fashioned drive-in burger and ice cream joint on the outskirts of town.
He couldn’t remember the number of times he’d been here in his younger days.
With Matty. With Liz. Even though the years marched on in the world in general, here at the Moo, time stood still.
Same fifties décor. Same neon lights. Same waitresses on roller skates.
But at least it looked like someone was keeping it up.
New billboard menus stood in front of the parking spots, the old cracks in the pavement had been repaired, and the building looked like it had recently received a fresh coat of paint.
Matty even showed him how to order on their new app.
Orders placed, Carson gingerly angled himself toward Matty and let out a deep breath. “Matty, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being such a crappy friend.”
Matty looked at Carson. His eyebrows furrowed together as if he was considering whether or not to let Carson’s apology stand. To let him off the hook. Or to make him say more. Grovel. Although Carson wasn’t sure he could do anything close to groveling at this point. Not with his groin tear.
“Look, man. I should’ve called. Or texted.
Or written. Something.” Carson swallowed down the sudden lump of emotion lodged in his throat.
“I left you high and dry and didn’t even have the courtesy to tell you why.
Or check in with you. Make sure you were okay.
See how you were doing.” God, what a total tool he’d been.
A self-absorbed, asinine, tool. “But I didn’t.
Not because I didn’t care, but because of me.
Because of how selfish I was. Am. Whatever.
I don’t expect our friendship to go back to how it used to be, but I do need to apologize.
” Carson blew out a breath. “So, I’m sorry.
For being such a crappy friend, and for ditching you for so many years. ”
Matty shook his head, a look of resignation on his face.
The knot that had untwisted in Carson’s gut returned.
Great. That was Matty’s disappointed face. Carson hated seeing that face. He braced himself for whatever his former friend was about to say.
But instead of berating Carson for his questionable choices and decades of avoidance, Matty stuck out his hand. “That’s two.”
“Two what?”
“Two crappies.” He wiggled his fingers. “You owe the swear jar two dollars.”
“Seriously?” He stared at Matty, awe and disbelief swirling through his veins. “That whole speech and the swear words are what you focus on? And crappy is hardly a swear word.”
“Three dollars.”
Carson rolled his eyes. “How about I buy your food?”
Matty squinted and pursed his lips as if in deep thought on whether or not to accept. With a grin, he nodded. “That works. But the bargaining tax will cost you an ice cream cone.”
Carson held back his grin. Damn, Matty was diabolical. He stuck out his hand and shook Matty’s. “Deal.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
Carson chuckled. If only all his problems could be solved with a lunch date at the Moo.
“And you’re wrong, you know.”
“About what?”
“Everything. You didn’t ditch me. You had to go. I know that.” Matty reached across and patted Carson’s hand. “And you didn’t leave me high and dry. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, but—”
Matty shook his head. “No. No buts. Uncle Arnold told me you had to leave. That you needed to go find yourself.”
Shit. The knot in his gut twisted tighter. Seemed like he owed Uncle Arnold even more of an apology. And possibly a big-ass thank you.
“So, did you?” Matty asked.
“Did I what?”
“Find yourself?”
Carson considered the events of the past few days. “Not yet. But I’m trying.”
“Well, how long is it going to take?”
Carson chuckled. “I wish I knew.”
“And when are you going to buy Crawford’s?”
“What?” Carson eyed Matty. “What do you mean?”
Matty rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid. I’ve heard Mom and Arnold talk. Then you show up in town. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”
Dammit. Carson wasn’t sure whether he was more impressed by Matty’s sleuthing or more gutted to have to tell his friend he wasn’t buying the company.
Carson sighed. “Look, man—”
Matty held up his hand. “It’s just an idea.
I think it’s a good one, but then again, I’m biased.
” He smirked. “I know it’s not what you pictured for yourself originally, but things change.
” Matty leaned toward him and made an exaggerated sniffing noise.
“For example, you smell much better now than when we were kids.”
Carson rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You know how much I like my routine—”
Understatement.
“—but even I can see when things need to change. My mom’s getting close to retirement, and Arnold seems tired lately. Like his heart isn’t in it anymore.”
Fuck. The knot in Carson’s gut twisted again. “Yeah. I got that sense too.”
Heaviness hung in the air as the server brought their food, and they started eating.
“What if I can’t figure out how to help his business?” At least in a non-overseas, non-Cloverfield decimation way.
“You will.”
Easy for him to say. Matty didn’t know how bad things really were at Crawford’s. Or did he?
“Did you know the betting pool winnings about you and Liz are now over ten thousand?”
Carson nearly choked on his burger. He coughed then took a sip of his drink. “I thought you said you didn’t know anything about the betting pool.”
“I didn’t. Then I started asking questions.” Matty shrugged. “And now I do.” Matty shoved a couple of fries in his mouth and chewed. “I’m not a financial genius, but it’d probably be enough to help someone with their business. Or help someone buy a business. Maybe do some marketing.”
Carson chewed his burger while Matty’s words churned in his brain. “What do you know about marketing?”
“I may or may not have taken some classes.”
Huh.
“Did you know the Digit Defender comes in very handy with us mechanics?”
“No, I did not.”
“Yep. I got ideas coming out of my wazoo.”
Carson narrowed his eyes at Matty. “Where does wazoo fall in the swear-word world?”
“It’s allowed.”
“Uh-huh. How convenient.”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules.” Matty cackled. “Oh, yeah. I do!” He sobered. “And you do, too. You make your own rules, Car-man. You can do whatever you want. I believe in you.”
The lump of emotion reappeared quickly, and Carson worked to swallow around it. “Thanks, man.” The question was, what did Carson really want to do?