Chapter 6 #3
“Was that what you were talking to Nate about?”
“Tried to. I’m pretty sure he accused me of having a fling with Daniel because I said he boosted my car last week.” I roll my eyes like I’m annoyed more than hurt. I’m getting there.
“Well, you should have a fling with Danny, and he absolutely should be the one boosting you. Like, as often as possible. I mean, vroom, vrooooom.” She fans herself dramatically.
“Danny knows how to get your motor running.” She giggles hysterically at her own bad joke as I gasp with my mouth full and spew mango tea with chunks of cookie gracefully all over the counter.
Not concerned with me actually dying, she grabs a clean dish towel and throws it at me.
“Lucy, have you really looked at him lately? He’s got to be working off some kind of frustration.
He was cute before with that messy hair and the smoldering green eyes thing goin’ on, I mean, daa—dang!
But he’s probably gained twenty pounds since you moved in, and I mean the good kind, you know?
Arms and chest and I heard he was a catcher in high school.
There’s no other way to explain the expert wearing of the pants.
He ain’t skippin’ leg day.” She tilts her chin down and raises her brows with intensity.
“I got brothers, and we’re athletes. I can see it,” she says with a grin.
“You’re ridiculous, Anastasia.” I’m not sure what power her full name holds as a comeback, but I got nothin’. And “catcher” tracks. That’s always been my theory. He checks all the boxes.
“Something made him allergic to haircuts, and he almost never shaves anymore. He went from that sweet boy next door vibe to broody long-haired rocker in a year. That’s all you, girl.
And he’s attached to you something fierce.
Ain’t nobody bringing me my preferred caffeine right when I need it.
That’s expert-level boyfriend shh—stuff.
” She quickly modifies her otherwise unfiltered opinion. “You being with Nathan is killing him.”
Hazel. His eyes are hazel. The green sort of swirls with an amber color and a darker brown. And his hair has always been long. He grows it out and cuts it all the time, but it’s never been traditionally short, not that I’m going to correct her. It’s whatever. I’m just observant.
“Dude. I’m engaged … theoretically,” I rasp out. “Do you think I’d do that to Nathan?”
“No, but sister, theoretically, you should.” She shakes her head, widening her eyes. “If I had a chance, I’d go after him myself, but there is only one girl he’s had eyes for in a year.”
Oh, puh-lease. Mental eye roll on both halves of that statement. I know who she wants.
“He treats everyone exactly the same,” I insist. “He carried your bag in this morning, and he helps everyone move in—Hunter and PJ, Hallie and Tara. That’s only who I’ve seen.
He changes locks, replaces the burnt-out porch lights, gets YOU new keys when you LOSE THEM.
Most of that is his job! I know we’re kind of closer, but it’s because we’re more alike, and we like the same music, and okay, he helps me with literally everything in my life, but come on, you know it’s not like that,” I protest, probably a little too much.
Annie’s young, but man, she doesn’t back down.
“All I’m sayin’ is he helps everyone, but he takes care of you.
You’re his priority. Everyone knows it.” She turns her head for a minute and notices our big throw pillows still on the floor of the living room where we watched Bill and Ted and waited out the storm.
“You liar! Ohh. Emm. Gee. He was here last night, wasn’t he?
Y’all done snuggled up right there!” She points, squealing like a stuck pig.
This child couldn’t be more country if she were an actual biscuit. All of us were born in Tennessee, but she and Sam have heavy Southern accents, while the rest of us only have a subtle lilt.
Of course, we say y’all and other Southern phrases, but DC, Jace, and I have extended family from Midwestern states, or lived bigger cities like Nashville, so our accents aren’t as strong.
Annie, though … she’s so Appalachian, I almost need a translator.
“Oh, good grief. STOP IT. He drove me home, and the power went out and …” I try to explain rationally, but there is no bringing her back now.
“The power went out, and he stayed with you last night? That’s the hottest freakin’ thing I’ve ever heard!
I mean involving you, of course. That’s spicy romance hot girl shh—stuff.
And I mean the good ones, Lucy. The steamy ones.
” Annie narrows her eyes and smiles devilishly.
“The kind where he would say good girl. You’re in a love triangle! ”
“I hate that trope.” I glare.
“And yet, here we are!” She cackles at a pitch that could shatter glass.
“Calm down, you freak. It was only a couple of hours.”
I want to glare, but I can’t help but laugh. Annie and I share a love for romance novels, but I like snappy banter and tension without spice, and what she reads … well, it has to stay hidden on her Kindle, because it would burn a hole through the coffee table.
“Oh, come on, Lu Lu. It sure beats the whole lovers-to-enemies thing you got goin’ on.”
“Okay, rude.”
“You’ll never get happily ever after entertaining ex-husband behavior.”
“Happily ever after is unrealistic.”
Her hand flies to her hip as she pops it to one side. “It will be if you keep fighting the truth! The proof’s in the pants, Lu Lu.”
“ANNIE!” I cover my ears as her face burns red and she doubles over laughing at herself.
“I meant …” She wheezes, twisting at the waist to pat her back pocket. “Catcher … squats … you know.”
I let go of my ears and cover my eyes. “Just stop.”
My phone buzzes, playing “Hey Jude” like exhibit A in Annie’s argument.
Because of course it does.
She waggles her eyebrows, then backs away from me making revving motions with her hands, mouthing, “Vroom, vroom!” as she reaches the stairs. Now I’m flustered and nervous to answer, which has never happened, and it’s one hundred percent Annie Parker’s fault.
I felt confident this morning. The hair was working, I had my music, and the caffeine was hitting. Then Nathan called questioning why I was happy … as if I shouldn’t be happy without his permission.
There’s an anxious, high-alert sensation that I’ve begun to feel when I talk to Nathan, and I don’t like it. Every conversation has a risk I can’t calculate.
I need to deep-dive into a book until I can stuff all these uncomfortable feelings back where they belong.
I finally break through the fog and answer with a strangled, “Hello?” As if we’ve not talked nearly every day for the last year.
“Hey, Lu, what’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing new … I’m a strong, independent woman unless something’s wrong with my car.”
He snorts a laugh. “Yes, you are. Did something happen?”
“Not really. I don’t know where to get my car fixed, and Nathan wasn’t helpful.” I silently scold myself for doing it again—talking about Nathan. He stays angry enough without a reason, and I’m giving him one by talking about him.
“I’m on the way. Let me make a call, and I’ll be there in about thirty minutes, okay? Can Annie take you to class?”
“It was canceled. That’s why I need to handle the car while I’m off today. I’m sorry, DC. You can just give me a suggestion.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because it’s your birthday, and you probably had plans. Plus, I have no way to get ingredients for a pie.”
“I already told you I spend my time how I want. We’re playing at The Drip tonight, and I want you to sing with me, so don’t be sorry.
You are the plan,” he says with a hint of innuendo.
“We’ll talk about pie later, though, because that sounds important too.
I’m calling my uncle now, then I’m on the way. ”
“Thank you.” I sigh, my stress level still a couple of notches higher than I prefer.
“Lu?”
“Yeah?”
“Trust me. I got you.”
“I know you do. Be safe.”