Chapter 13
LILY
I’m not proud of what I’m about to do.
The minute I close the apartment door behind me, I kick my shoes off and dig my phone out of my bag.
I sit on my couch and take a calming breath, which does nothing to settle my nerves as I google the name of Josh’s ex-girlfriend and their hometown—Harper Delaware City—to see if I can stalk her online and get a glimpse of what she looks like.
It’s pathetic, but I can’t help myself. Since he mentioned her, I’ve been fidgeting like I’m fourteen again, dissecting every interaction with the cute boy in science class.
Such a juvenile attitude for a grown woman with a child.
But here I am, social media stalking the ex of a man I’ve known for a weekend.
When only obituaries for old men come up as top results, I add Josh Collins in the search box.
Mistype it twice before my fingers stop shaking, and bingo!
The public Instagram profile of a pretty brunette with freckles and blue eyes pops up.
The handle @HarperInTheDCity makes me shake my head even as I tap to scroll through her feed.
She beams at me from every photo, embodying everything I was hoping not to discover.
She’s gorgeous in that not-even-trying way some women are blessed with.
Slim but curvy, with long chestnut hair that falls in perfect waves around her heart-shaped face.
Her smile is wide and genuine, showing off teeth that probably never needed braces.
In all posts, Harper is either doing something adventurous or striking an effortless pose that I hope took fifteen attempts to get right, or it really wouldn’t be fair.
In a pic from a week ago, she’s on a floatie, abs tight enough to bounce a penny, her back draped over a handsome man with dark hair, eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans. The wind is whipping her glossy locks across both their faces as they laugh. The caption reads:
Almost two years with this one! Every day is a new adventure #blessed #foundmyhome #sundayfunday
So she moved on. Go, Harper. Good for you.
But my curiosity isn’t satisfied. Is Harper someone who erases ex-boyfriends from her timeline, or has she kept Josh?
I have to scroll photos back a few years to find him—them.
I swipe past a million shots of sunsets and girls’ brunches and a weird number of close-ups of smoothie bowls, until they appear: Josh and Harper standing next to their bikes on a waterfront trail.
He has an arm slung over her shoulder while he kisses her temple and she smiles at the camera.
His hair is shorter than it is now, more neatly trimmed, but the blue eyes and the easy smile haven’t changed; they’re the same that make my chest hurt when aimed at me.
Jealousy stabs me at his open affection for someone else, visceral and liquid, burning like acid, and I have to put the phone down.
And that is just a picture of his ex. The intensity of my reaction sends me into a panic. What is wrong with me? I met Josh five days ago. Five. Days. And I’m jealous of a relationship that ended years before he moved to California?
I’m being ridiculous. Josh is my neighbor. We’re barely even friends. What will happen if we keep hanging out and he starts dating someone? My stomach churns at the thought. Oh, I won’t handle that well.
But a guy like him? He can have his pick of women.
He’ll end up with a gorgeous yoga instructor with tanned skin.
She’ll get a key to his apartment within a week, wear his stolen hoodies around our housing complex, and host free sun salutations for the neighbors on the lawn.
They’ll go for midnight swims in the pool.
Nah, he’d take her to the ocean—artificial water is too prosaic. The mental image makes me nauseous.
But I need to be prepared because Josh is an amazing man, and any sane, undamaged woman who doesn’t carry trauma the size of Alaska would want to date him.
He’s single and came here for a fresh start.
How long before he’s snatched up by someone who doesn’t burst into tears at the sight of him making breakfast?
Someone who doesn’t have a child and a dead husband and more baggage than the luggage carousel at LAX.
I don’t dare look at other photos of Josh and Harper and abandon my Instagram quest in favor of a shower, hoping the hot water will wash away this weird, possessive feeling that has no right to exist. I stand under the spray until my skin prickles, scrubbing hard, as if I could clean off these unwanted emotions.
It sort of works. At least I don’t cry again, which feels like a minor win.
Afterward, I half-heartedly flop onto the couch, turning on Netflix and scrolling through five hundred shows, but watching none. I stay that way until Penny bursts through the front door with my sister Josie in tow and, judging by the deeper voice behind them, Dorian too.
Great. I’m about to face a rockstar in my oldest sweats and socks with holes in them that I won’t throw away because they were Daniel’s favorite.
Penny launches herself at me in a hug. I squeeze her and pat her back while my sister walks in.
When Josie sees me, she does a double take.
“What happened to you?” She leans in as if checking for a fever. Am I that bad? But she surprises me, adding, “You look tanned, healthy, and happy. Did you get out of the house this weekend?”
I deflect, rolling my eyes. “You’ve really nailed down how to give a compliment, Jo.”
“Your sister means you’re glowing,” Dorian clarifies, closing the door behind him and taking off his standard disguise—a Dodgers cap and mirrored aviators that won’t fool anyone in the neighborhood but will hopefully keep the paparazzi at bay.
He ruffles his hair, looking magazine cover-ready even in a wrinkled T-shirt and sneakers that have seen better days.
Penny lets me go and launches into a narration of her adventures at Dorian’s house over the weekend, barely stopping to breathe between sentences. How amazing their pool is, how Dorian is teaching her to play the guitar, and how his personal chef made her the best pizza for dinner tonight.
Josie sighs, pressing a hand to her chest. “My boyfriend stole my role of favorite aunt. It’s fine. I’m not bitter or anything.”
Penny throws her arms around Josie’s waist. “You’re both my favorites! Mom, Auntie JoJo showed me the new fairy tale she’s working on, and it’s amazing. The princess has a dragon best friend who helps her save the kingdom!”
We are in the middle of this overexcited reunion when a knock sounds at the door.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Oh, crap.
That must be Josh for the bandage change. When I reminded him to come over, I didn’t realize it’d mean he’d meet my entire family.
I don’t know if I’m ready for the life as an individual that I’ve lived over the weekend to clash with my single mother reality. How do I explain Josh to Penny? To Josie? What if they can tell just by looking at me that I spent the afternoon stalking his ex-girlfriend online?
My sister is closest to the door and gets it before I can get my act together.
“Hello. New face?” she asks, her tone lifting at the end the way it does when she’s being nosy.
“Hi, I’m Josh, the new neighbor?” comes his deep but hesitant voice from the landing.
“Hi, Josh, the new neighbor,” Josie echoes with so much emphasis I want to throttle her. “I’m Josie, Lily’s sister. How can we help?”
“I… uh… hi. Lily offered to change my bandage,” he says, sounding even more uncertain.
I still don’t have a visual on Josh, but I’m mortified for him. Josie is sizing him up and not being subtle about it. He must feel the same because he adds, “Err… in exchange for free plumbing.”
Poor guy, he’s making it worse. I’d drop my head in my hands if it wouldn’t attract more attention.
“Ooooh, free plumbing,” Josie responds, sounding even more like an asshole. “Did you do a lot of that this weekend?”
“Err, no?” Josh replies, audibly embarrassed. “Just the one incident?”
“Well, come on in,” Josie says cheerfully.
Josh steps into the house, unaware of the pheromone explosion he’s causing in me. He’s changed into a soft-looking T-shirt and washed-out jeans, the human version of comfort food for someone starving—me.
He stops short at finding Rian Phoenix in front of him. Dorian, acting nonchalant and teasing like Josie, greets him with a casual, “Hey, neighbor.”
Everyone holds their breath as we wait to see how Josh will react to coming face to face with a celebrity.
Josh keeps a perfect straight face and says, “Hi, man.” Then, still deadpan, he squints his eyes and adds, “Have I seen you somewhere? You look familiar.”
Dorian matches Josh’s poker face. “Nah, I just have one of those faces.”
“That must be it,” Josh replies.
The two men smile at each other with shit-eating grins, and a wave of relief washes over me.
I’d braced myself for the usual reactions people have when meeting Dorian—stammering, asking for selfies, becoming overly familiar.
But Josh is treating him like any other person, and I can tell from the way Dorian’s shoulders relax that he appreciates it.
Penny inserts herself into the conversation, never one to be ignored for long. She steps up to Josh, hands on her hips, giving him a critical once-over.
“You’re the new guy Gossip Granny has been gushing about to the entire neighborhood,” she announces. Even my daughter knew about him. How did I miss that memo? “She says you can repair anything.”
“Penny, right? Nice to meet you.” Josh crouches down to her level, and something about that simple gesture—the way he doesn’t talk down to her, literally or figuratively—makes their interaction easier to witness but also harder to bear. “And I can repair most things, but not everything.”
Penny looks disappointed, but only for a second. “That’s still impressive,” she declares. “How did you learn?”
“My dad taught me,” Josh answers simply.