Chapter 10
“So, you know how I told you about my friend?” I said in greeting as I dropped Marybeth off. Mary led me through the foyer as Marybeth bounded up the stairs toward her bedroom.
Mary and Daniel had both been too busy to pick her up from school, so I’d offered. We’d had a rather lovely afternoon, and she’d been my loyal little confidant as I told her all my Joe-related woes.
“He’s the big one?” Marybeth had said over her cup of cocoa. “The one you were practicing speeches for.” We’d taken a detour to the park, and like usual, were enjoying the squirrels that skittered from tree to tree. I took the cap off my coffee and blew on it to attempt to cool it.
“Yep. That’s him.”
“He’s nice,” Marybeth had said wisely. “Good apples.”
“I know right? You don’t think that’s weird?” I’d asked her, genuinely curious. “That I might…start liking someone?”
“I think it’s weirder that you don’t,” she had replied. “Mom’s married. You should be too.”
She had given me the same knowing look her mom was currently leveling my way. Like they knew me better than I knew myself. Which…fair. They probably did. Also…maybe it was weird that we’d been separated for a decade and I’d never dated.
I shook away the memory, focusing on the current conversation at hand.
Mary’s eyes glinted.
“Yes, I remember. Your friend that has a crush on a man that was definitely not Joe?” Mary leaned against the doorway to the kitchen with a look that could’ve only been described as smug.
“That’s the one!” My heart skipped a beat. I knew Mary wouldn’t care, but she was still the second person I was officially coming out to, after Marybeth. “Well, I’m sure this is going to come as a surprise,” I started, fighting back a laugh at the ridiculousness of what I was about to say.
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“But that friend? It was actually me all along. And I do, in fact, like Joe. Which…as you can probably guess, is actually terrifying.”
Mary’s head dropped back, this delighted cackle escaping that sounded so much like her daughter’s it made my chest squeeze. When she stopped howling, she scrubbed a hand over her face and grinned at me, amused and annoyed in equal measure.
“Not the reaction I expected,” I teased. “You know. The laughter—”
“Oh, hush. You know that’s not why I’m laughing.”
“I know.” I grinned at her, relaxing now that I’d said it out loud. It felt more real. Tangible almost. I was Jason. I was forty-three-years-old. I had more money than I could conceivably count. I worked as a grocer. And yes, I had a crush on someone. For the first time.
“So we’re no longer in denial then?” Mary clarified.
“Correct. And I’ve invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Good. I want to meet him.”
“I thought you would.” I paused for a beat, wavering. “You’re not offended?”
“Why would I be offended?” Mary gave me a look like she thought I was being adorably idiotic. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”
There was only so long I could’ve pretended I didn’t find Joe cute.
This was just the natural way of things.
Today, for example? When Joe had brought me coffee and been so embarrassed and shy and— God, I’d had to fight the urge to reach over and pinch his grumpy little cheeks. So adorable. It should’ve been illegal.
“Wine?” Mary offered, disappearing the rest of the way into the kitchen. I trailed after her, kicking my shoes off down the hallway with a grunt. Pictures lined the walls. Pictures of Marybeth, of Daniel, of Mary. A few of me, sprinkled in between.
Mary had a nice house. The kind of house that looked like it came straight out of a catalog. The kind of house she’d told me that growing up lower class in a trailer park had made feel like a dream. There were still pieces of a “home” inside it, keeping it from feeling clinical.
Marybeth’s shoes randomly dotted the corners.
A few toys.
Mary’s laptop was on the counter—because she was always fucking working—along with her briefcase. Yes, she was the kind of nerd who genuinely used a briefcase.
Dishes were in the sink from Daniel cooking dinner, as well as his reading glasses parked on the table beside an abandoned book.
It felt more like home than my house did, and I’d been living there for over ten years.
The only clutter at my place was my own. More derelict than a fucking crypt, even if I had the curtains and bathmats that should’ve made it feel well-loved. I’d never done well with silence. It reminded me too much of what the manor had been like when I was young.
Empty.
Cold.
“Boxed?” I requested. Call it protest but I preferred the cheapest shit available even after growing up with a silver spoon in my mouth.
The look Mary gave me was sour to say the least. “No.”
“Ugh.” I never won this fight. Ever.
After pouring us both towering glasses of the fanciest wine available in town, Mary leaned against the counter, arm crossed over her chest, legs tangled at the ankle.
She had her linens on. The lightweight white fabric she wore to bed.
Crisp and clean, like she never once worried about stains, even with red wine dangerously close.
“Was Joe the catalyst for the Santa Fund?” Mary asked conversationally. She’d been working on the paperwork for it, so I figured she’d have questions. Honestly, I was surprised she hadn’t asked me the last time I’d seen her. Though…I suppose I had occupied her with other things.
“He was,” I replied, taking a sip of my own wine with a grimace. Too fruity. Blehg.
“Why?”
“He needed help,” I answered. “I provided it.”
The look Mary gave me in response spoke volumes. “Does he know?” she asked. “That you’re the one offering the money?”
“No.”
“Good.” She took a sip of her own wine, swishing it around in her mouth for a moment just to taste. After she swallowed, she continued. “I don’t want you to get taken advantage of.”
The idea of Joe taking advantage of me was laughable to say the least.
“Believe me, that’s not going to happen.”
“Really?” She arched a brow. “Because from my perspective you’re offering an awful lot to a man you hardly know.
I…just—” She didn’t often stumble over her words, so I knew I was talking to best-friend-Mary and not lawyer-Mary.
“I worry about you,” she admitted quietly as I chugged some of my own wine glass. My limbs felt a little fuzzy.
“I know you do.”
“Come here.” Mary opened her arms, and I crossed the distance without hesitation to sink inside them. She patted my head, hand stroking through my hair. “You have so much more to offer Joe than your wallet,” she whispered quietly. “I hope you know that.”
“I know.” I did not know. Did I? I mean…really, truly. What could I even give him?
“Why do you like him?” Mary asked, continuing to pet me. “What is it about him…that feels so…worth all of this?”
I laughed because what I was about to say was going to either sound super stupid or very validating.
“It’s a feeling,” I admitted, voice hoarse.
“I can’t…I can’t explain it. But…god. You should’ve seen him when we got out of the theater the other day; it was night and day.
Prickliness gone. Joe was giving me the sweetest puppy eyes.
God. You have no idea how good that felt. He needed me, Mary. He needed me.”
“Gross, go on.”
“I mean—I’ve never had someone look at me that way? You know. Just…trusting me to take care of everything. It was heady.”
Mary shook her head, still amused. “Once again, I am reminded why you and I did not work out.”
“True.” I took another sip of my wine, disappointed to find it pretty much gone.
“He’s…” It took me a second to figure out how to explain what Joe was.
“So contrary. So interesting. So young and yet so capable. I respect the hell out of all he’s accomplished since moving here.
He’s got all these layers, and I never know what I’m going to get when I talk to him. He’s constantly surprising me.”
“And what if you stop being surprised?” Mary asked. “Are you going to lose interest in him?” It was a genuine question. A question I almost wanted to ignore, because it felt like a fucking rude thing to ask.
But…again…Mary knew me better than anyone.
And she loved me.
So I really thought about it. Thought long and hard. Thought about how I’d feel if I discovered every nook and cranny of Joe Milton. If I knew his little quirks and bad habits. If I unpicked every knot that made him up. If his yarn unspooled. If I saw him, plain as he was, all his tangles replete.
“No,” I said hoarsely. “I wouldn’t.” The words were confident, even though nothing about this situation filled me with confidence. “What I feel for Joe isn’t just curiosity. I’m just…I’m scared, Mary. What if it happens again? What if I don’t…what if I can’t—” I cut myself off.
“You won’t know until you try,” she said.
“I just want friendship,” I lied. “That’s it. That’s all I’m after.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
I knew that before the words even came out.
The wine made my tongue loose.
The quiet of her home didn’t help either.
I was comfortable here.
Safe.
“You’re practically in love with him, you set up a secret anonymous charity to pay for his home renovation, and you’re still claiming to be only after friendship? I thought we were done with denial.”
“It’s not denial.” I blew out a breath. “I’m just...”
“Jason.” Mary pushed me away so she could look at me. Her hand was tiny and soft as she cupped my cheek. “Sometimes you make me so incredibly sad. Don’t write this off already.”
The silence after that statement was deafening.
My heart squeezed.
Her hair was in a side braid today, long and brown and draped over her shoulder. She looked sharp. Deadly. And yet her eyes were fond.
“Oof, right for the heart,” I joked. “You literally just told me to have my guard up because of the money.”
“That was before you said what you did,” Mary replied immediately. “It sounds as though Joe is special. That he needs you the way you’ve always wanted to be needed.”
I felt sweaty all of a sudden. Lightheaded.
Mary reached out, her hand finding my shoulder.
It was so small. Strange, when I’d been ogling big, suntanned man-hands all day.
“I need you to hear me when I tell you that you are a good man, Jason.” I made a sound.
“For some ungodly reason, you don’t see it.
But even worse? You don’t give people a chance. ”
“I gave you a chance,” I argued.
“No, you didn’t.” Mary rolled her eyes. “Not really. I mean…you were always sweet. Generous. I’m pretty sure you would’ve given me your kidney if I’d asked.
But you have layers too, Jason.” Layers just like I’d said Joe had.
“And until we were divorced, you never let me see that. You pretended. Hid anything you didn’t think I’d like, pretended to be invulnerable.
To be clear, I’m not bitter—I’m just stating a fact.
You need to learn to drop your guard a bit.
Maybe be wary of revealing your financial status at first—but…
if you really like Joe, give him a chance to actually see you.
Not just the parts you think are palatable.
But everything.” Her hand squeezed one more time before releasing me.
“You’re a catch, Jason. Start acting like it. ”
“Pshhhh,” I flapped a hand. “Staawwp.”
She took a step away.
“The couch is yours if you need to sleep off the wine,” Mary offered.
Daniel was in the doorway to the kitchen, having witnessed most, if not the entire conversation. At least, the mortifying bits. He smiled at me, tucking his wife into his side when she crossed the last of the distance between them. He kissed her temple before he beckoned me closer.
Daniel was a hugger.
Even worse than Mary.
I sighed dramatically, feigning annoyance no one believed was real as I closed that distance myself and folded into their embrace easily.
“I already pulled out the duvet,” Daniel said against my hair, rubbing my back with big, steady swipes. “Sleep it off, buddy.” Rub, rub. “Mary’s right, by the way.”
“Not you too—” I groaned.
“It’s time,” Daniel said. “We all just want to see you happy.”
“Your couch makes me very happy.” Giving them both a parting squeeze, I released them and headed toward the guest bathroom to get ready for the night. I had a toothbrush under the sink there, as well as a bathrobe that Daniel had given me last Christmas for the nights I spent in their living room.
Sometimes my house was simply too quiet.
As I lay on the couch post robe-donning and teeth-grooming, I listened to the tick of the clock in the hall. Up the stairs, Mary and Daniel were getting ready for bed. I could hear the murmur of their voices drifting down the stairs, her laughter muffled by the distance.
I ached.
Was Mary right?
Did I have my guard up all the time?
Maybe Joe wasn’t the only person with layers.
Maybe I really did need to learn to let people in.