Chapter 17
By now it should be apparent that I don’t always make the best choices with women.
I don’t blame the women because I’m a man who takes responsibility for his shit.
I know I’m the one with the problem, and it started with Roxy.
She caught my eye during my senior-year astronomy elective.
We moved in together after college, and she worked late hours in public relations at a big New York firm.
I burned the midnight oil, too, trying to earn my stripes as a master carpenter.
Roxy was great, totally supportive, and everything a young guy working his way up in Manhattan could want—fun, supportive, and upbeat, as well as wild in the sack.
But that’s not the point. The point is she’s the one who urged me to strike out on my own and build my carpentry business.
She even provided some tips and guidance on incorporating.
Can you tell where this is going?
Yeah, so can I.
She was instrumental in encouraging me to start my shop, but after she spread her legs for the banker, I encouraged her to spread her wings from my life and get the fuck out of my apartment.
She packed up and shacked up with him. Too bad that wasn’t the last of her.
A month later, she tried to dig her claws into my business, claiming in her legal motion that she provided the “intellectual capital” to help me get started.
That her late nights plotting and planning with me meant she deserved a piece of WH Carpentry we plan new projects.
I build; she manages. We book a few new jobs, including one for a friend of Lila’s.
Her name is Violet, and she tells us she was so inspired by Lila’s new kitchen that she wants a similar look and feel.
I give Natalie a big thumbs-up when she shows me the contract for that gig, since it’ll put us back on the expansion path.
“We’ll start on it in a few more weeks. We have an opening then to fit this in,” Natalie says in a professional voice. “And Lila seemed happy to connect us with Violet. She said when she came to my self-defense class again how awful she felt about the Vegas job falling through.”
“She went to one of your classes?”
Natalie nods. “Yes. Funny thing. I was so used to seeing her in the context of working with you, and then all of a sudden there she was. She said she wants to learn self-defense.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“She’s a quick learner. And I’m thrilled she told a friend about you. This pretty much gets us back on track after the Vegas debacle.”
At first I’m not sure which debacle she’s referring to—the marriage or the job cancellation—but then I realize she means the business.
And that’s fine with me, since we’re showing how well we work together as soon-to-be annulees.
We’re all professional, all cool, unruffled feathers.
As if we’re proving with every goddamn interaction how completely unaffected we are by that night in Vegas.
Why should we act otherwise? After all, we went into that evening planning to make the most of it, and we did what we intended. We enjoyed the full Vegas experience, and we left it all behind when the sun came up.
Tonight, I’m going to keep forgetting about it since I’m off to a Yankees game. First, I stop by Sunshine Bakery, where Josie is closing up. She sweeps the floor as I enter and beams when she sees me.
I smile, too. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You only told me five times.”
I hold up a finger. “Once. I told you once. Because I told Chase I’d tell you once. It’s embarrassing enough.”
“You must really owe him big time, then.”
“He’s collecting from years ago.”
Josie sets the broom against the wall and heads behind the counter. She grabs a small yellow bakery box. A heart sticker is affixed on the box to keep it closed. She thrusts it at me. “One strawberry shortcake cupcake for Chase Summers.”
“Can’t believe I’m bringing a fucking cupcake all the way to the Bronx for that bastard.” I sniff the box. “Please tell me there’s a seven-layer bar in here for me as a reward?”
“No such luck.” She points to the heart sticker. “It’s only for him.”
I read her writing: The manliest cupcake in the world. Not :) But glad you enjoy it, and glad you missed it. Come visit soon! It’s been too long!
“I swear, Josie. It was all he talked about when we made plans. Are you bringing me a cupcake? Are you bringing me a cupcake? I was like, Dude, get your own. But he’s had daytime shifts all week, so hasn’t been able to make it.
And I had to take pity on him seeing as how, well, you know .
. .” I make a rolling gesture with my hand.
“He saved lives for the last year,” Josie supplies. “The man deserves a cupcake. Be sure to tell Doctor McHottie to stop by to get another one.”
I shoot her a look. “Don’t call him that.”
Her eyes widen in a who me expression. “That’s what you used to call him.”
I shake my head. “Trust me. I never called him that.”
“Then who did?”
“All. The. Ladies.”
She gestures to herself. “I’m a lady.”
“And he’s a dog.”
She laughs. “Sounds like a compliment, then, since you like dogs.”
I consider that briefly. “Got me on that one,” I say, then make my way to the door. But I stop halfway and rap my knuckles on a yellow table as I consider whether I’m missing a chance to pry. I mean, check in on Natalie. “Hey, Josie,” I say, all nonchalant.
“Yeah?”
“Everything good with Natalie?”
Josie tilts her head to the side. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
I shrug. “No reason. Just making sure.”
Josie stares at me, and I know I’ve said too much. This is my sister, and she reads emotions as if they’re tattooed on your forehead. “Did something go wrong in Vegas?”
I scoff. “No. God no,” I say, giving a champion-level denial. Then, worry strikes. “Why? Did she mention anything?”
“No. I just was curious. She’s been a little quieter lately, though. Did you say something stupid to her?”
About a million stupid things.
“No more than usual,” I say with a cheesy grin, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Seriously, though. Were you a good guy?” she says, her big green eyes pinning me.
Challenging me. Making me ask myself the same question.
Does marrying Natalie on a whim and annulling it let me stay in the good guy camp?
Running through the time in Vegas with Natalie, I decide I was a good guy.
Maybe not a bright guy. Maybe not a cautious guy.
But at least I treated her well, and I’ve been a good boss since we returned.
“I was very good. So good I deserve a seven-layer bar,” I say, batting my eyes.
She laughs and grabs a bar from behind the counter. “You know I always give you one.”
“You’re the best sister in the entire world, world, world,” I call out, making my voice echo, as if I’m talking in a microphone.
“I know, I know, I know. Give Chase a hug for me.”
“Never. That will never happen.”