Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor: Small Town Fake Relationship Sweet Romance

1. Charlie

My hands grip the steering wheel, and my eyes are as wide as saucers as I gawk through the windshield of my BMW. In fact, I’m pretty sure I must be having a hallucinatory experience.

Maybe it was those mushrooms you had at lunch.

I ignore my inner sarcasm and continue to stare, mesmerized, hardly believing what I’m seeing. It’s getting dark, but there are just some things that are unmistakable, right? Like your mom, or your best friend, or a dancing bear. Okay, it’s not a dancing bear, but it might as well be. At this moment, my eyes are not deceiving me. I know what I’m seeing.

The reason I’m so gobsmacked—why my head is turning like it’s on a swivel—is because the man walking down the street of our small town at this very second is supposed to be in Paris. Which you may think is no big deal; okay, he’s no longer in Paris. The thing is, this same man broke my heart before he left. Oh, and did I mention I haven’t seen him in ten years?

While I can hardly believe my eyes, they’re usually honest; I know I’m not hallucinating. The evidence is right there on two legs in front of me. Troy Heaton, my best friend’s brother, is back in Cherryville. All six-foot-one of him. So stunned am I that I can’t peel my eyes away from him.

That is, until I suddenly feel a sharp bump. Spinning my head around to look where I’m supposed to be going, I discover that I’ve not only mounted the curb, but I’m also about to take out old Mrs. Burton with the grill of my car.

“Oh, my Lord,” I screech, yanking on the steering wheel.

With another sharp bump as the tires come off the curb, the car is once again where it belongs. On the road, not the sidewalk. I swipe my long black hair out of my face; with my heart thumping and the picture of Mrs. Burton waving her cane at me in the rearview mirror, I grip the wheel with all the strength my hands can muster. So tightly, in fact, that my knuckles are white.

Still, I can hardly comprehend what I’ve just seen. I mean, if the Grim Reaper appeared right now—which, with the way I’m driving, could quite be a possibility—I would be less surprised than I was by seeing Troy wandering down the main street.

Breathe, Charlie.

I take a huge gulp in and a slow breath out. And then another. And then another. Nope, my pulse is still going a million miles an hour.

I’ll be honest; I’m not easily shocked. I mean, I run my own business in interior decorating. If you could see some of the houses I’ve been invited to, or worse, what the clients actually want me to do to make them better, you’d understand. But at this very second, the reaction I would have to garish drapes and psychedelic wallpaper pales in comparison. I’m still struggling to trust my own eyes. And my sanity. I’m sure Mrs. Burton is feeling exactly the same way.

What I cannot comprehend is why Milly—my best and closest friend, I might add—hasn’t mentioned anything. We talk nearly every day. If we don’t actually talk, like on the phone, we text each other. Surely she knew her brother was coming home. Home to the town he abruptly scampered from without a word just over ten years ago.

The last I heard—which was a while ago, because Milly doesn’t speak much about him in my presence—Troy was living it up in Paris. He was working in a restaurant over there, doing some cooking or something. No doubt not caring a whit about any of us back here. On occasion, I have imagined him with a beautiful new woman on his arm every night of the week.

Aren’t all women in Paris beautiful, or is that just what Marie Claire magazine would have us believe?

To be honest, there have been times when Troy has entered my thoughts, like after Eddy and I broke up, and I realized I had wanted him to be more like Troy than Eddy. Otherwise, I’ve pretty much been getting on with my life without giving him much consideration. Troy left me. Why should I care what he’s doing halfway around the world?

That changed about five minutes ago.

It’s at this juncture, as I turn onto the road that leads to my house, that a horrible thought—in fact, several horrible thoughts—rush through my panicked mind.

What if he’s finally settled down? What if he’s finally found the one? What if he’s brought her back here to marry her?

Breathe, Charlie.

But all the deep breaths in the world are not going to help me with this one. You see, Troy Heaton was my first love. My high school crush. The man who stole my heart. While Eddy was my one serious relationship since his departure, like I said, he wasn’t Troy. No one ever could be. Thankfully, I’m on my own now. Just the way I—

“What the devil is that?”

I’m now approaching my house, but I can’t see it because there’s a huge truck in the way. In fact, it’s parked right in front of my neighbor’s house. I take my foot off the accelerator and slow down to a crawl. As I pass the truck, I look at the massive letters written on the side. Harvey’s Movers.

Why is there a moving truck sitting on my road? More to the point, why is it sitting outside the house next door to mine?

It takes a second. And then I gasp.

“No, no, no, this cannot be happening.”

Believe it. It’s happening.

The house beside mine has been empty for months. It has had a rental sign up in the front garden, but there haven’t been any takers. We live in a small town, and while Cherryville is cute, it’s miles from anywhere. People aren’t rushing to move here, if you know what I mean. I like it, but then again, I grew up here.

Now, the rental sign is gone.

It would be too much to ask that the possessions that have just been hauled from that huge truck and into the house next door belong to any other person but Troy Heaton.

So I don’t ask. I just know.

It’s the only logical conclusion. It’s just too coincidental to be anybody else. I can hope, but hope isn’t going to change anything. As I maneuver around the front of the truck and pull into my driveway, it starts its loud engines. I’m still sitting in my car, reeling from disbelief, when the beast of a thing pulls away.

“Oh, good Lord.”

I have to sit for a minute. Mainly because I don’t think my feeble legs can hold me yet. I’ve already had two major shocks and a near-death experience—Mrs. Burton’s, not mine—but collapsing on the driveway would be one step too far. Or no steps at all, as it happens.

After all this time, I still cannot believe it. Troy Heaton has finally come home. Troy Heaton has finally come home, and he is moving in next door. After a few minutes pass, I shake myself.

Move, Charlie. Sitting here all evening is not going to get you or your groceries inside the house. Besides, do you really want to be out here when Troy finally shows up?

Absolutely not!

After struggling to unlock the front door with my arms full of groceries, I kick it closed behind me. I had plans to make a delicious dinner with what is in these paper bags, but my rumbling stomach will have to wait. Dumping them on the counter, I reach inside my purse and pull out my phone. I need to call Milly.

My best friend is a bundle of joy, energy, and hyperactivity, all rolled into one. Ordinarily, she answers the phone with her usual bubbly voice. On this occasion, however, it appears her energy and joy have taken a vacation.

“Don’t be mad,” she says warily before I even have a chance to speak. Evidently, she already knows why I’m calling. I suppose you have that connection with your best friend after fourteen years. Though coming to this conclusion after seeing Troy on the street and then a moving truck parked next door is hardly a reach, right?

“When were you going to tell me?” I’m trying to keep my tone neutral, but it’s nearly impossible. I’m still reeling, and I want answers.

“It’s complicated,” she says.

“What’s complicated about telling me your brother is home? Or that he happens to be moving in next door?” I shriek. Yep, any effort at remaining calm just flew out of the window.

Silence.

“Milly?”

I hear a heavy sigh through the phone. “There just never seemed to be a right time,” she says eventually

“Really?” I blurt. “You thought you’d just leave it until the day he arrived? A special surprise just for me?” I say sarcastically.

“Is he there?” she asks.

I’m not sure whether she means here with me, or there, as in, next door. I assume the latter.

“No, he is not there,” I retort in frustration. “All his belongings are, though. The moving truck just pulled away. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“If it’s any consolation,” she says timidly, “I didn’t tell him, either.”

“What?!”

Oh, this is just great. So, Troy Heaton is going to move in next door, entirely oblivious that I’m living beside him. He’s going to have the shock of his life when he finds out who his neighbor is. Hopefully, he won’t be driving when he discovers it, and Mrs. Burton might be safe for a while longer.

“Hear me out, Charlie,” Milly says, sounding defensive. “It’s not like I had anything to do with it. He did it all online. The realtor, the moving company, everything. We didn’t even know he was coming back, and then, boom, Troy drops the bombshell.”

My mind is racing, and I’m holding my breath—the one I keep telling myself to take, just waiting for Milly to tell me that Troy’s getting married.

“When he called us to say he was coming home, I wanted to tell you. But I chickened out. Then, when he called last week, he said he didn’t need to stay with us because he had gotten himself a place. It was only after I asked where it was that he told me the address. I was so stunned, I couldn’t tell him that it happened to be right next door to you.”

“Well, this is just fantastic,” I say, keeping with my sarcasm. “Wonderful news. Couldn’t be more delighted.”

Even though I’m pacing up and down the kitchen like a caged tiger, I feel some relief that there was no mention of wedding bells. Not that I should care. I mean, why would I? I haven’t seen the man in ten years.

Milly has fallen silent. Probably because she knows there is nothing she can possibly say to make this okay.

Troy Heaton stole my heart when I still wore spectacles, when my jet-black hair had not yet been introduced to conditioner, and when I had a little too much puppy fat around my now-slender figure. After ten years of being absent without leave, as they say in the army, he is now moving in next door.