CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
My sister-in-law is leaning against the car next to Harper’s open door. Clover is dressed more sensibly, in cute jeans and a cropped sweater, her thick, dark hair in a French braid.
“You’re welcome,” Clover whispers back with a warm smile. I’ve truly lucked out in the sister-in-law department. She and my brother have only been together for a couple of years, but I already consider her a close friend.
Slowly, I lower myself into the car and unstrap Harper as slowly and soundlessly as I can manage. My heart swells at the sleepy, sugary scent of her. Asher always gives in to her requests for candy and cookies when she’s with him. And Clover’s even more of a pushover.
Harper’s curls are flat from the way she’s been sleeping on them, and her face is pink and just a bit sweaty at her hairline.
She’s obviously the most adorable, sweetest kid in the entire world.
She doesn’t even flinch when I slide each of her arms free of the car seat straps. Maybe I get a bit overconfident and move too quickly as I lift her, because her eyes pop open and she glares at me like I’m a villain for waking her up.
It only takes a moment for the glare to fade, though, and she smiles at me sleepily. “I went down the biggest slide by myself, Mama.”
“Good job, baby,” I say. “That’s amazing.”
She nods. “I know.”
I wave to Asher and Clover as I carry Harper to the house. Her head drops against my shoulder and she falls back to sleep.
Asher hurries past me and opens the door for me. He kisses my cheek before he jogs back to his wife for an evening of whatever it is married people without kids do. I got married because I was pregnant, so it’s an experience I’ve never had.
And it’s an experience I’ve accepted I never will have. At least not until Harper’s gone off to college.
Harper drifts off repeatedly while I’m helping her into her pajamas, but as soon as I tuck her into bed and lay her head on the pillow, her eyes open wide. “Read to me.”
I swallow my sigh. I look forward to poker night all week, and I was really hoping I’d be able to play more than just one hand. My friends might stick around and wait for me, but it’s more likely they’ll head home before it gets too late.
With a four-year-old who’s typically up by six every morning, I usually start yawning around nine and my card playing goes downhill from there. For that reason, we usually start our poker games at seven and end them by nine.
Of course, tonight, I asked to move the start time back to eight so I could meet with Deacon.
The problem is all me.
And I’m not about to punish Harper for any of it. “Of course, sweetie.”
***
“Everyone left?” I ask when I emerge from Harper’s room half an hour later.
Ellery’s on my living room couch reading a book.
She looks up at me, her expression concerned. “It’s getting dark so much earlier now, and I don’t like Lennox going home in the dark.”
Lennox lives in the middle of a forest, and the only way in or out is to hike. “I thought she was staying with you on poker nights this fall?”
Ellery shrugs. “She says she will next time, but she got a text about something for work and needs to be at home to get it done. She said she’ll call when she gets there.”
“I don’t know how she lives up there all alone.”
Ellery shrugs. “Especially when the house is cursed.”
“It’s not cursed,” I say as I plop onto the couch next to her. “That’s just an urban legend, right?”
Ellery shifts to face me. “Have you not heard her story? How is that possible?”
I pull my hair free from its ponytail and run a hand through it.
“I have a four-year-old, so I miss a lot of stuff. Didn’t the company Lennox works for put her up in that house or something?
” Lennox has always been cagey on the details.
“Is there more to it? Has she told you what she does for a living?”
Ellery purses her lips. “I have some ideas. But it’s not pertinent. Multiple women have died in that house.”
I stare at her. “No. I’ve lived in this town all my life. I would have heard a story like that.”
“The women who lived and died in that house didn’t come into town often. Most people around here never even noticed them.”
I shake my head, smiling. “This totally sounds like an urban legend.”
Ellery snorts. “It really does, doesn’t it? But Lennox has let a few things slip and, whether or not it’s true, she totally believes it.”
“It hardly seems like she’s terrified of her home. I mean, she had the opportunity to avoid going home in the dark, and she left anyway. Couldn’t she at least have found someone to go with her?”
“She has a headlamp, and she carries bear spray. She didn’t seem worried at all.”
I point at my friend, laughing. “Which proves she’s totally pulling your leg about the curse. You are so gullible, Ell.”
Ellery smiles, unbothered. “I like a good story. Speaking of which, tell me everything about your date.”
I drop my head back onto the couch with a groan. “Is it silly that I feel like I’m cheating on Handsyguy?”
“I would never call you silly. I’d say that maybe you have some bigger feelings for Handsyguy than you expected.”
“I hate you. You’re supposed to only tell me what I want to hear.”
She squeezes my arm. “Then I wouldn’t be a very good friend.”
“I know. I don’t want to have feelings for anyone. Especially not a man I’ve never met.”
“Have you even seen a picture of him? What’s his profile picture like?”
I roll my head to look at her. “What does that have to do with anything?”
She shrugs. “Curiosity? I like to know all the details before I give any advice.”
“Profile pictures are fake, like ninety percent of the time.” But I pull my phone from my back pocket and scroll to the app. There’s a message from Handsyguy, but I don’t check it. I just hand the phone over so Ellery can see the profile pic.
She stares at for a long, long moment. “Amelia, that’s—”
“Nope.” I grab the phone back from her. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know who he is.” I shove my phone back in my pocket, my heart racing. “Okay, fine. Is he a nice guy?”
I finally look at her face, but her expression is weird. She looks almost disappointed and sad. Ellery’s never sad. Her smile seems pasted on.
“Oh, no,” I say. “He’s a serial killer. Right? I’ve been falling for a serial killer.”
“Falling for?” Ellery says, her voice cracking.
I go back over what I just said to her. “No. Not falling for. I mean…” I can’t lie to my best friend. Or myself. “Maybe a little. But I’ve never met him in person. There might not be any physical attraction.”
“Oh, there definitely would be.” Ellery’s smile somehow gets stiffer. “He’s a great guy. You should definitely fall for him.”
If that’s the case, why does she look so sad? “Wait. Is this a guy you’re interested in? Just say the word, Ell, and I’ll—”
Her laugh sounds a teensy bit maniacal. “No. I’m not saying the word.
He’s all yours. You know I don’t do relationships, Melly.
He’s just really hot, and I was considering making a move, but that’s all it would have been.
I was only interested in his body. But I’m no longer interested in him. Not at all.”
If it were anyone else, I would question them harder. But Ellery has been even more relationship-averse than me. She’s the queen of hot and heavy flings. “Are you sure? Because if you’re actually interested in something more with someone, I’m not going to stand in your way.”
She smiles, and it finally looks real. “I know you wouldn’t. I’ve had my moment to mourn never getting that man in bed, but I’m over it now. Tell me more. Do you want to call things off with Deacon and go for HandsyGuy?”
I slap my hands over my face. “I want them both,” I say.
Ellery pulls my hands from my face. “So have them both.”
“But that’s so horrible and selfish and just… horrible.”
“Not if you’re honest with them. Handsyguy is what you need right now for the flirting and the conversation, and Deacon is who you want for the physical stuff. As long as you don’t promise them anything you aren’t planning to follow through on, you’re in the clear.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I’m feeling like I at least need to tell Handsyguy I’m dating someone.”
“You can if you want,” Ellery says. “But you’ve already told him you don’t want to meet him. He has to know he’s basically nothing more than your pen pal at this point. You’re not leading him on.”
“But—”
“I think you’re scared about how much you feel for Handsyguy and you’re trying to shut things down before you truly have a chance to see where they go.”
“They aren’t going anywhere.”
“Maybe not,” she says. “If that’s true, send a message to Handsyguy right now and end things.”
I open the messages app and see what Handsyguy wrote back to me.
Handsyguy37: Honestly? Probably. I had a job once where I worked for twenty-four hours straight without talking to anyone or seeing another human and the first thing I said to my brother when I saw him was, “Tired. I sleep.” But I slept for twelve hours and went out to a club and I remembered how to talk to people pretty quick.
He had to at least suspect from what I wrote that I was going on a date, but he didn’t ask. He just let me know I’m not alone and encouraged me to get out there.
Even if it never occurred to him that my social event might be a date, he made his response all about me. My eyes burn as I stare at the message.
I can’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t Ellery was so generous with their support.
I slide the app closed and meet my friend’s sympathetic gaze. “I can’t do it.”
She nods, unsurprised. “Right now, this is what you need. It’s okay to take what you need, as long as you’re honest about it with the other people involved.
You’ve told Handsyguy you don’t want to meet, and you’ve told Deacon you don’t want a relationship.
You don’t owe either of them more than that. ”
“Why does doing things for myself feel so wrong?” I ask.
She pulls me into a hug. “Because you’ve been giving everything you have to the people, you love for so long that you’ve forgotten how to do anything for yourself.”
“You’re a good friend. I should go out with you tomorrow night and help you find a man.”
She snorts. “I don’t need any help in that department. And you should enjoy Deacon for the approximately forty-eight hours you’re going to get with him before he finds out you have a kid.”
“He’s going to run, isn’t he?” I feel unusually weepy.
Ellery pushes me away and gets up to stand. “You want him to run away, right? The alternative is he decides you need a husband, and he’s the man for the job.”
“Oh.” I stand with her. “That’s right. Running away is the better option. I just wish I could find a man who’d be happy to have a long-standing fling with a single mother.”
Ellery grabs her bag, an oversized one big enough for her to carry a Kindle and three physical books, just in case, and heads for the door. “I’ll wish on a star tonight for Deacon to be that guy.”
“Good night, Ell,” I say as I walk her to the door. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She blows me a kiss as she leaves.
I practically sprint through my nightly wind-down routine because I’m hoping to catch Handsyguy before he turns in for the night.
In my PJ's, I jump into bed and settle in, already scrolling on my phone to the dating app and Handsyguy’s message. He hasn’t sent another, and I’m practically breathless, hoping that he’ll see the message I hurriedly type out and send tonight.
DogPerson185: Is it weird that I’ve never seen your face, but I consider you one of my best friends?
I send the message off, my heart racing. I feel like I just stripped naked in front of the whole town. I immediately want to take the message back.
What if it’s too much? Do I sound like a stalker?
Or what if I’ve just pushed him to declare he wants more than friendship and I lose him altogether?
My phone chimes with an incoming message and, for a moment, I’m too nervous to remember my password when neither my fingerprint nor my facial recognition works.
Handsyguy37: Getting a message from you is my favorite part of every day. How’d your social thing go?
Giddiness makes me bounce and squee like a damn teenager.
DogPerson158: I think it went fine. You were right. It just took me a little while to remember how to do it.
HandsyGuy37: Do you have the same trouble being friendly in a social setting as you do at work?
My first instinct is to lie. I want this guy I’m never going to meet to think the best of me.
But I’ve never been good at lying.
DogPerson158: I’m even worse in a social setting than at work. I get a lot less practice.
Does he realize ‘social setting’ is code for date? I should just tell him.
But he might stop flirting with me, and we’ve already declared each other friend-zoned, so what can it hurt?
HandsyGuy37: I’d offer to let you practice on me, but you still don’t want to meet. Unless that’s changed?
My heart beats a little faster at the idea, but I can’t meet this guy. If he’s this easy to talk to in person and there’s any hint of attraction, there’s no way I won’t fall for him.
Or worse, there’ll be no attraction and he’ll lose interest in messaging me.
DogPerson158: Sorry. As much as I could use the practice, that’s a hard no.
HandsyGuy37: Fair enough. Change of subject. What’s your favorite horror movie?
Damn it. Why does he have to be so perfect?
DogPerson158: Zombie Dawn is my all-time favorite. Kind of hard to watch horror movies with a four-year-old at home.
HandsyGuy37: I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I saw Zombie Dawn when I wasn’t much older than four. That’s the danger of growing up with a bunch of older brothers.
DogPerson158: Oh, no. Were you traumatized?
HandsyGuy37: Completely. Can’t say I’ll ever watch that one again willingly. But I still love horror movies. List your top ten, and we’ll compare.
I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
I drift to sleep over an hour later, my phone still clutched tightly in my hand.