Love Story
Page 50
I rub a hand over the back over my neck. “I don’t know if I can promise that.”
My thumb finds the corner of the journal.
“Bullshit. Promise.”
How can I promise not to hurt her when I don’t even know what she’s thinking? Feeling.
I open the cover of the journal. Close it again and close my eyes.
I could though. I could know what she’s thinking.
“How about this,” I tell my best friend. “I promise that if I hurt her in the short term, it’s only so that I don’t hurt her more in the long term.”
“Fair enough,” he says slowly. “And for what it’s worth, I’d tell her not to hurt you too, if she was the one that had called. She’s my sister, but you’re like my brother. You both matter.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that,” I say. “Gotta run.”
I hang up before I can tell my best friend that I’m seriously contemplating doing the shittiest thing on the planet: reading Lucy’s journal.
He doesn’t want her to hurt me? Probably too late for that. Lucy’s already reopened a part of me that only she can, and is poised to pour salt on the wound.
But maybe…maybe I can protect myself. Brace myself for the pain before it hits me full force.
Even as I open the journal, I hate myself. I hate myself even more as I start to read it.
Long, long minutes later, I slowly close the journal once more.
I still hate myself.
But now I hate her a little bit too.
Chapter 36
Lucy
Something is up.
Reece has been weird for two days, ever since Los Angeles. Not a big deal. He’s always weird. But this is different weird.
I thought I’d seen every side of the guy, but this is new. I’ve dealt with angry Reece, jerk Reece, teasing Reece, hot Reece, impatient Reece, even seen too few glimpses of sweet Reece.
But this? This is indifferent Reece.
He still talks to me, but only when spoken to. He hasn’t made a single complaint about the country music on the radio—I’m not sure he even noticed.
And though he made love to me in Los Angeles, and again last night when we spent the evening in San Francisco—except, actually made love wasn’t the right term for what it was—it was just sex. Clinical, a little rough.
And worst of all, cold.
Although the weirdness of the past couple days is nothing compared to the tension that’s descended upon Horny as we approach my new apartment in Napa.
Napa’s only an hour or so from San Francisco, and we opted to spend most of the day in San Francisco itself, doing touristy stuff.
Well actually, I opted. Reece more or less followed me around like he couldn’t care less until I finally gave up and, with a lump in my throat, climbed into Horny for the last leg of our journey.
It’s late as we near the Napa city limits, and I realize I can’t keep quiet anymore. He doesn’t know the address of the condo I’m subletting. I rattle off directions from my phone in a monotone voice.
He follows my directions but doesn’t say a word.
During our silent standoff, it’s occurred to me that I don’t know if he has a place to stay tonight. He mentioned that he’s crashing on his new boss’s couch while the guy’s on his honeymoon, but I don’t know if that starts immediately, or if he’s planning to get a hotel room, or what.
I want so badly to ask him to stay, but I’m too afraid that when I open my mouth to ask him to stay the night, it’ll come out as Stay forever, and right now I don’t think I can handle the rejection if he says no.
He pulls up in front of the three-story condo building on the outskirts of downtown Napa. “This it?”
I glance down at the address in my email, then up at the dimly lit building. The numbers match. “I guess so.”
He nods and gets out of the car. I do the same, grateful to stretch my legs. Grateful to be home.
I stare at the building. It feels…lonely.
“Got a key?” he asks, already pulling my bags out of the trunk.
I nod, digging around in my purse for the envelope that the girl I’m subleasing from sent me via FedEx.
We both load my bags onto our shoulders, Reece grabbing a couple boxes and jerking with his chin to show that he’ll follow me.
My apartment’s on the second floor, and we walk silently up the steps. It’s quiet. Of course, it would be. It’s past eleven on a weeknight.
I take a deep breath as I open the door to my new home. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, but it feels…hollow.
I tell myself it’s because I’m tired, and a little grumpy, and already aware of the fact that I don’t have toilet paper or coffee or groceries, but I know the real reason: the man beside me.
I flick on the light and step inside. Reece follows, and I try my best to ignore him as I take in the condo.
It’s nicer than I thought it would be, which is a pleasant surprise. My experience with Craigslist is that the reality rarely lives up to the Photoshopped pictures, but the apartment is actually as it looked in the photos.
Not new, but clean. The furniture not exactly modern, but not falling apart either.
It’s a one-bedroom, which is all the space I really need, and the kitchen is an open concept, with a big counter and lots of windows in the main living area.
The couch is as ugly as promised, but the little white kitchen table is cute, as is the old-timey-looking trunk that doubles as a coffee table.
I wander into the bedroom. The mattress is new. No bedding, but I knew that and brought my own. Tiny closet, but that too I can deal with.
My thumb finds the corner of the journal.
“Bullshit. Promise.”
How can I promise not to hurt her when I don’t even know what she’s thinking? Feeling.
I open the cover of the journal. Close it again and close my eyes.
I could though. I could know what she’s thinking.
“How about this,” I tell my best friend. “I promise that if I hurt her in the short term, it’s only so that I don’t hurt her more in the long term.”
“Fair enough,” he says slowly. “And for what it’s worth, I’d tell her not to hurt you too, if she was the one that had called. She’s my sister, but you’re like my brother. You both matter.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that,” I say. “Gotta run.”
I hang up before I can tell my best friend that I’m seriously contemplating doing the shittiest thing on the planet: reading Lucy’s journal.
He doesn’t want her to hurt me? Probably too late for that. Lucy’s already reopened a part of me that only she can, and is poised to pour salt on the wound.
But maybe…maybe I can protect myself. Brace myself for the pain before it hits me full force.
Even as I open the journal, I hate myself. I hate myself even more as I start to read it.
Long, long minutes later, I slowly close the journal once more.
I still hate myself.
But now I hate her a little bit too.
Chapter 36
Lucy
Something is up.
Reece has been weird for two days, ever since Los Angeles. Not a big deal. He’s always weird. But this is different weird.
I thought I’d seen every side of the guy, but this is new. I’ve dealt with angry Reece, jerk Reece, teasing Reece, hot Reece, impatient Reece, even seen too few glimpses of sweet Reece.
But this? This is indifferent Reece.
He still talks to me, but only when spoken to. He hasn’t made a single complaint about the country music on the radio—I’m not sure he even noticed.
And though he made love to me in Los Angeles, and again last night when we spent the evening in San Francisco—except, actually made love wasn’t the right term for what it was—it was just sex. Clinical, a little rough.
And worst of all, cold.
Although the weirdness of the past couple days is nothing compared to the tension that’s descended upon Horny as we approach my new apartment in Napa.
Napa’s only an hour or so from San Francisco, and we opted to spend most of the day in San Francisco itself, doing touristy stuff.
Well actually, I opted. Reece more or less followed me around like he couldn’t care less until I finally gave up and, with a lump in my throat, climbed into Horny for the last leg of our journey.
It’s late as we near the Napa city limits, and I realize I can’t keep quiet anymore. He doesn’t know the address of the condo I’m subletting. I rattle off directions from my phone in a monotone voice.
He follows my directions but doesn’t say a word.
During our silent standoff, it’s occurred to me that I don’t know if he has a place to stay tonight. He mentioned that he’s crashing on his new boss’s couch while the guy’s on his honeymoon, but I don’t know if that starts immediately, or if he’s planning to get a hotel room, or what.
I want so badly to ask him to stay, but I’m too afraid that when I open my mouth to ask him to stay the night, it’ll come out as Stay forever, and right now I don’t think I can handle the rejection if he says no.
He pulls up in front of the three-story condo building on the outskirts of downtown Napa. “This it?”
I glance down at the address in my email, then up at the dimly lit building. The numbers match. “I guess so.”
He nods and gets out of the car. I do the same, grateful to stretch my legs. Grateful to be home.
I stare at the building. It feels…lonely.
“Got a key?” he asks, already pulling my bags out of the trunk.
I nod, digging around in my purse for the envelope that the girl I’m subleasing from sent me via FedEx.
We both load my bags onto our shoulders, Reece grabbing a couple boxes and jerking with his chin to show that he’ll follow me.
My apartment’s on the second floor, and we walk silently up the steps. It’s quiet. Of course, it would be. It’s past eleven on a weeknight.
I take a deep breath as I open the door to my new home. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, but it feels…hollow.
I tell myself it’s because I’m tired, and a little grumpy, and already aware of the fact that I don’t have toilet paper or coffee or groceries, but I know the real reason: the man beside me.
I flick on the light and step inside. Reece follows, and I try my best to ignore him as I take in the condo.
It’s nicer than I thought it would be, which is a pleasant surprise. My experience with Craigslist is that the reality rarely lives up to the Photoshopped pictures, but the apartment is actually as it looked in the photos.
Not new, but clean. The furniture not exactly modern, but not falling apart either.
It’s a one-bedroom, which is all the space I really need, and the kitchen is an open concept, with a big counter and lots of windows in the main living area.
The couch is as ugly as promised, but the little white kitchen table is cute, as is the old-timey-looking trunk that doubles as a coffee table.
I wander into the bedroom. The mattress is new. No bedding, but I knew that and brought my own. Tiny closet, but that too I can deal with.
