Chapter 25
LOREN
MOM
How are things with Josh?
I skip up the stairs to my place, feeling rejuvenated and alive and, yes, a little buzzed, but mostly I feel as if anything is possible. Which is why, when I meet my neighbor on the landing, I smile and wave and seriously consider giving him a hug, because, why not? The world could use more hugs.
I don’t though, because Elliott is staring at my bowling shirt, his brow furrowed and a question in his eyes.
My new favorite shirt might be lucky. Unfortunately, I can’t be like those superstitious athletes and never wash it to keep the luck from rubbing off because the slice of pepperoni pizza I had at The Alley did me dirty.
He unlocks his door and tosses the bag he was carrying inside. “Hey there, Harry.”
I reach into my purse, prepared to begin the long, arduous search for my keys only to find them right at the top. Your girl’s luck really is changing. “Hello, Elliott.”
“You look awfully happy.”
“I think I might be.” What’s more, I don’t want this night to end. That’s what happens when you’re having fun, isn’t it? You get worried tomorrow won’t live up to today and all you want is to make the goodness last. I unlock my door and drop my keys back into my purse. “Would you like to come in?”
He glances around like he’s searching for anyone else in the concrete hallway. After confirming we are indeed alone, he presses a hand to his chest. “I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah. I have beer.” And drinking alone is sad.
Drinking with friends is sociable, everyone knows that.
“In that case…” He follows me into my apartment, but instead of immediately taking a seat at the tiny table, he stands in the middle of the room with his hands tucked into his pockets.
I give him a beer and then grab one for myself. Can’t have them taking up precious real estate in my mini fridge for too long. “You coming home from work?”
“From my mom’s, actually.”
Oh, fun. “That explains why you don’t have a companion with you.” Normally he’s latched onto a woman like a leech. Or she’s latched onto him. It’s difficult to tell who initiated the latching.
His brow furrows beneath his unruly hair. “What does that mean?”
“Seriously? You get more action than Mark Wahlberg.”
“That is oddly specific.”
“No, it’s not. He’s been in a lot of action movies lately.” Like the one where he’s the hot ex-spy dad.
“It’s cute that you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”
Believe me, there’s nothing cute about it. “Hard not to when the walls are so thin.”
Although he chuckles, I’d swear the man’s cheeks are turning red. It’s probably the alcohol I’ve consumed messing with my perception.
Not nearly as much as last week, thank goodness, but enough to make me giddy.
Elliott wraps his lips around the top of the beer bottle and takes a deep drink.
How do guys like him make such a simple action look so scandalous?
Don’t even get me started on the way his throat bobs.
His beautiful blue eyes get lost beneath his mop of hair when he glances up at me. “How’s the promotion?”
“Amazing.”
“And all the shit with your boss and your ex?”
“Behind me.” The year of Loren has officially begun.
“That’s good.” He tips his bottle back and drinks. And drinks. And drinks.
When he stops, the bottle is empty.
I might not know Elliott very well, but every time I’ve seen him drink, he’s nursing the thing. Something feels off. “You okay?”
He drags the back of his hand over his mouth, the stubble on his chin rasping against his palm. “Just feeling the weight of my mother’s disappointment tonight.”
“I see. And how have you disappointed her now?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
From the way he frowns, it would appear my dear neighbor is lying. Being well-versed in parental disappointment, I feel it’s my job to help him gain a little perspective on the matter. “Did you murder anyone?”
His lips twitch. “I only commit heinous crimes on weekends.”
“Did you kick any puppies?”
His mouth pops open in horror. “I’m not a monster.”
“Exactly. You’re handsome, successful, not living in your parents’ basement—”
“Much to my mother’s chagrin,” he mutters.
Same, man. My mom would kill to have me stuck in her basement until the day I die.
But this conversation isn’t about me. Elliott helped when I needed him most, and now I get to return the favor. “Even so, you’re doing amazing. If she can’t see that, it’s on her.”
“Easy for you to say. Your parents don’t live in the same state.”
It’s easy for me to say because I finally had the guts to leave. Do you know what happened? The world didn’t end. It went on.
Mom and Dad just hired someone new at the funeral home, and I’m living my best life in Mount Juliette. Yeah, I might not be living in the lap of luxury and things might not have worked out with ratbag, but things are looking up.
None of that would’ve happened if I’d been less of a “disappointment.”
“Do you know what my mom said when I told her I got a promotion?”
He shakes his head.
“She told me I shouldn’t take it. That I should come back home where I belong.”
“Fuck that.”
“Exactly. Now take that attitude and apply it to your own issues.”
Chuckling, he tosses his bottle into the recycling bin. “Yeah. I’ll try. So Harry, are you going to tell me what’s up with the shirt?”
Oh, yeah. The shirt that started this whole conversation. I tug on the hem, sincerely hoping the greasy sauce stain comes out. “I bought this gem at the thrift shop.”
He bobs his head. “Interesting. Are they doing casual Wednesdays at work or…?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Meg and I bowl every Wednesday.” Which is quickly becoming my favorite day of the week.
“You’re kidding. Where?”
“This little place on Woodbridge Road.”
“The Alley? I heard a rumor they turned that into a laundromat.”
“Nope. Sixty years and still going strong.” On Wednesdays, anyway. I have no idea what the place looks like any other day of the week. Maybe Meg and I should swing by this weekend and find out. We do have two more shirts that need broken in.
“I never pegged you for a bowler.”
“I’m not. But the beer is cheap, and no one tries to hit on us. It’s quickly becoming our favorite bar.”
He rubs his chest like I just shot him in the heart. “Ouch. That hurts.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. We just love it there.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He turns and starts for the door.
I am irrationally sad over the thought of him leaving. Stupid beer. “You don’t have to go yet.”
His eyes find mine, holding for a beat too long. Heat spills through my stomach, spreading. “I should get to bed.”
I have a bed.
Okay. Can we just take a moment to appreciate the fact that those words didn’t accidentally slip out? “Yeah. Of course.”
“Thanks for the beer and the pep talk.”
“Thank you for keeping me company.” He’s fun to hang out with. Probably too fun, all things considered.
“Are you kidding? This is the first time you’ve invited me since you moved in. I wasn’t going to say no.”
“That’s not true. You were here for steak the other day.”
“Because I weaseled my way into eating half your dinner.”
Good point. “What about when you fixed my thermostat?”
“You mean when I convinced you to make me crab cakes?”
“That’s right! What is it with you and food?”
“I’m a southern boy whose heart is right here.” He pats his stomach. His very flat stomach.
Moving on…
Elliott catches the door. “See ya, Harry.”
“Goodnight, Elliott.