by Celeste, B.
It’s bigger than mine, with a lot fewer decorations and a lot more storage space. Like the rest of his downstairs, the cabinets are dark wood, the countertops a beautiful marble, appliances all stainless steel, and everything is neat and tidy even with the various food lining the countertops for guests.
“It’s a force of habit to keep everything super clean, isn’t it?” I ask as he grabs a coffee mug from one of the cabinets and walks over to a green thermos.
He looks over his shoulder. “I’ve always liked things organized. Being in the military definitely helped keep me that way. I’m lucky enough to have a kid who’s the same way, though it’s in his nature. He’s meticulous.”
“He probably learned to mimic you,” I guess, accepting the mug he passes me.
“Milk, creamer, and sugar are all over there.” He uses his chin to direct me over where there’s an assortment of things. “And yeah, Nicki has always tried doing whatever I did. Didn’t mind it so much when he was younger, now…”
My brows pinch as I pour vanilla creamer into my cup. “You don’t want him to now that he’s older?”
He looks contemplative. “Not sure I want him to follow in my footsteps, is all. Being autistic doesn’t make it impossible to enlist or join the military if he decides to. But there’d be rigorous tests he’d need to go through to figure out if he’s capable.”
He’s worried about his son. “I think you have a few years before you really need to worry about that, Fletcher.”
The noise he makes is doubtful. “You know, that’s only the second time you’ve called me by my name.”
I turn to him. “It is?”
A chin dip.
“Oh.”
“I like it,” he informs me, making me stare a little without blinking. Then, he moves on. “Do you want food, or do you want to play some cards?”
It takes a second to gather my bearings. “I think I’ll wait to eat.”
Following him over to the dining table set up similarly to when he showed me the game, I see a few other people sitting around it already with beer and food.
Feeling a little intimidated, I look at Fletcher and murmur, “Maybe I’ll watch this round.”
He looks down at me before nodding. “If that’s what you want. C’mere.” Pulling a chair up beside the one he sits on, he pats the cushion on it. “Sit by me. You can be my good luck charm.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
Then, he adds, “Figure if the marble can work for Nicki, having the real thing could up my chances at emptying these sorry ass’s pockets tonight.”
And then he grins.
Grins big and wide and cocky in a confident, sexy sort of way. One that makes it hard to turn down.
So, I sink onto the chair, suck in a breath when he hooks a foot around one of the legs and yanks it closer to him and hold my breath when our knees stay pressed together under the table.
He wins the first game, shooting me a wink that makes my ovaries quiver, and chuckles when the guys all groan as he collects his earnings.
Later, I overhear one of the other players grumble to another, “That fucker always loses.”
I never ended up playing a game, but sitting through two more rounds—the second where Fletcher won again, and the third when he finally lost—before I’d noticed Bex walk in. As soon as I spotted her, Fletcher bumped my arm and in that low tone, said, “I know you two are friends. Used to play poker with her husband. Thought it’d be good if you had some company here.”
I’m still thinking about his consideration even days later while I’m in my room preparing for winter break. I can’t help but smile. And as soon as Sonia caught the look on my face, she wouldn’t relent in prying as to what caused it.
“Maybe I’m excited about having some time off,” I tell her, looking out the window where small snowflakes start falling.
“No, it’s definitely not that.”
I eye her. “How do you know?”
She grins knowingly, sitting on the edge of my desk. “Because I know what it looks like to have a crush, and that look on your face is all about a guy.” Instantly, heat surfaces under my cheeks, making my coworker laugh. “I knew it! Who is it? Is it somebody from the school?”
The face I make makes her snort. “No. I don’t want to get another talk from Ms. Clifton about dating coworkers.”
Sonia tries holding in her laugh, but she fails. “Sorry, sorry.” She blows out a steady breath. “Does this mean you won’t be crushed when I tell you that Miles and that grad student he took out are going steady?”
I roll my eyes but smile. “I’m happy for Miles. He deserves someone better suited for him, and that wasn’t me.”
“Fair.” Her eyebrows arch. “So, are you going to tell me who the lucky guy is or not?”
“Sonia, there isn’t a guy.”
Which is true.
“You’re not crushing on anyone?” The doubt in her tone makes me want to laugh, but all I do is shake my head.
Whatever thoughts I’ve been having toward my neighbor don’t necessarily classify in the ‘crush’ territory. Fletcher Miller is a kind man, a loving father, and has a lot of passion for things I respect him for. No matter his past with things I’d like to forget about, I admire him and can see why my ex did as well.
“No,” I tell her. “No crush.”
Her shoulders drop, and disappointment takes over her face. “Damn, I’m usually not wrong about these things. Maybe it’s good break is coming up. I can catch up on sleep and get recharged.”
I feel a little bad that I didn’t divulge anything about Fletcher or my personal life, but I haven’t even told Vickie yet that I’ve been spending time with him. She’d flay me alive if I held out on her while I gossiped with my coworkers about men.
Men with nice biceps and pretty smiles, and intense eyes that look at me a little too closely for comfort.
I go with, “I think we all could use a little recharge. Do you have plans with family for Christmas?”
She makes a face. “Yeah, we’re all meeting at my sister’s place this year. It wouldn’t be so bad if her satanic children were taught manners Her daughter doesn’t know the word ‘no’ and my sister gets all fed up whenever somebody scolds her for doing something she shouldn’t.”
I frown. “That’s not good.”
“And what’s worse,” she drones, “is that they’re all vegetarians. Can you believe that, Stevie? So, instead of delicious honey-glazed ham or golden-brown turkey, we’re getting tofurkey, and this nasty broccoli casserole that everyone pretends is great, even though we all secretly want to spit it out into our napkins.”
My lips threaten to waver into a smile over her dramatics. “Why don’t you bring side dishes for the people who aren’t vegetarian?”
She waves it off. “We drown out the taste in wine, get buzzed, and finally start having a decent time. Plus, I bought my niece a karaoke machine that way she can sing to her cold heart’s desire and annoy the living hell out of my sister since she thinks her kids so perfect.”
I snort. “That’s evil.”
“But well deserved,” she replies with a devious smile. Pushing off the desk, she asks, “I know you said you were going to your parents, so I hope you have fun. Eat some turkey and try picturing my miserable face knowing I’ll be downing wine to get the taste of the fake kind out of my mouth.”
Shaking my head, I wave her off and get back to finishing up for the day. I’m looking forward to the mini vacation. Sleeping in, doing things around the house, and seeing my family. Vickie wants to check out a new restaurant that opened close to my hometown, so I promised I’d go with her since she refuses to go out to eat by herself.
Plus, it may be good to get away from the house and the neighbor that I find myself checking on from the window like some sort of curious creep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Maybe we should do this another day,” I tell my friend as she pulls into a parking spot at The Penny, a ne
w Greek place a few miles from the house I grew up in.
“Would you quit complaining?”
I put my hands on my stomach and rest my head back on the headrest. “I still feel stuffed from Christmas dinner.”
She eyes me skeptically as she unbuckles and turns her body in my direction. “We used to stuff our faces with more food than we ate on Christmas. And that was two days ago. Get with it, Foster.”
I blow out a raspberry with my lips. “We aren’t twenty anymore, though. We’re old.”
My friend gasps. “We are no such thing. Take it back, bitch!”
I laugh when she smacks me and makes me get out of the car. We both stop by the side of her Challenger and stare at the newly renovated restaurant that looks fancier than anywhere I’ve been before. I’ve always preferred diners and smaller, more homey establishments. For how short a time The Penny has been open, it’s already gotten rave reviews which makes this trip worth it.
“Come on!” Vickie grabs my arm and tugs me to the door, where something delicious wafts in the air.
When my stomach rumbles, my friend’s eyebrows pop up in an, I knew you were bullshitting me kind of way. I give her a loose, unapologetic shrug. I skipped breakfast this morning, knowing Vickie would probably order way more than necessary here, forcing me to try everything she does. Out of the two of us, she’s way more adventurous with what she’s willing to try. Evident by that one time she bought chocolate-covered roaches and tried bribing me with $50 to eat one.
I didn’t care how much I could have used that fifty for something. I turned it down.
After we’re seated with our drink orders in front of us, I look around the room as my friend scours the menu. I’m not necessarily broke, but I already know that I’ll be crying internally when I see the amount printed on the check.
“This place is nice,” I tell her, eyeing the festive decorations and delicious spices coming from where the wait staff is entering and leaving the back.
“My boss told me about this place,” she says, looking up from the menu.
A small smile creeps up my face. “The hot one?”
She grumbles under her breath.
“Are the women you work with still trying to get with him?” I ask, interested in the way her eye twitches. She always does that when she’s irritated.
“Not as much. He hasn’t shown them much interest.” With a lift of her shoulders, she points to something. “This lamb dish sounds delicious. What are you thinking about getting?”
She’s avoiding the conversation, which I find more interesting than anything. She could pass as a supermodel with her lean body, silky hair, and plump lips, so it’s not surprising that her boss isn’t paying much attention to the other women she works with. “Did your boss randomly recommend this place, or did it come up in conversation?”
Vickie grabs her lemonade. “I don’t remember.”
I don’t know why, but my best friend is lying to me. About a guy. Which, in her opinion, is the worst offense a friend could make against another. But unlike her, I don’t pressure her for more. “I’ll let it go for now because unlike you, I’m not pushy. But one day you’ll tell me whatever is going on there because something tells me there’s a story you’re not sharing.”
She makes a noise in her throat that makes me grin as I finally study the menu. About ten minutes later our orders are placed, and my friend gives me a solemn look after something behind me catches her eye.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Vick.”
Her lips press together.
“Victoria. If this is about the boss thing, I already said I wouldn’t say—”
“Don’t freak out,” she begins, making me want to instantly do that. “But some people just walked in…” Something crosses her face that I’ve seen before.
A scowl.
One she used to direct toward—
“Stevie?” someone asks from behind me.
My shoulders tense.
My spine straightens.
My eyes widen as I stare directly at my best friend, unable to turn my head to see the person standing behind me even though I know—I know—that voice.
I swallow slowly, Vickie looking both apologetic and angry all at once.
“Stevie, is that you?”
That voice. Low, but not as low as the one I’ve become used to hearing over the past few months. Slightly husky, but mostly…young. If I’m honest with myself, it’s a little unremarkable, though if you’d asked me six months ago, I would have found something attractive to say about it. Something nice to say about the tone I’d spent years listening.
I close my eyes for a second, take a long, deep breath before finally dealing with the reality of the situation.
Hunter.
“It is,” he murmurs, stopping at the side of our table and looking down at me.
Hunter is still as beautiful as any man can be. Tall, lean, confident. Well kempt, in a baby blue button-down that looks vaguely familiar, and a pair of black pants that fit his long runner legs. He always felt the need to dress up, even if we weren’t going anywhere that required it. His baby face is clean of any stubble, something he used to do a lot during the first few years of our marriage before he’d began growing out his dirty blond facial hair. The dirty blond hair on his head is a little longer than he usually keeps it. But he’s still the same man I remember from over the years, smiling that easygoing smile as he watches me with those damn blue eyes that I always got lost in.
My ex-husband shakes his head as he stuffs a hand into one of his pants pockets, then rubs the side of his neck with the other. “Wow. You look beautiful.”
Vickie snaps to attention. “Like that’s surprising?”
Slowly, Hunter looks at my friend. “I see some things never change. Always a pleasure, Victoria.”
The only person she lets call her that is my mother. Everyone else she glares at like she’s doing right now.
Hunter turns back to me. “I didn’t hear from you…” His lips rub together for a moment before he looks me over. “You really do look beautiful. Did you get my flowers?”
Oh no. I can feel the look being burned into my face from across the table. I’d never gotten around to telling my best friend about the text or flowers. Mostly because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t feel like getting lectured about how I’m better off without someone like Hunter in my life when I knew I did.
I’d forgotten all about it.
“I did,” I answer cautiously. “Thanks.”
Thanks. I’m sure I could be nicer, but I don’t know what he expects from me. I’ve been avoiding this conversation since he reached out the first time, and the last place I want to have it is in the middle of a restaurant.
“What are you doing here?” I find myself asking.
“I’m in town for the holidays.”
Makes sense. Our families live close by to each other, which we used to take advantage of back in the day. Shared holidays. Sneaking out for midnight meetups. I’m pretty sure both our families knew, but they never said anything.
Hunter shifts his weight. “I saw your dad in the grocery store.” He pauses, clears his throat, and in a notch lower than before, adds, “He flipped me off.”
Vickie snorts. “Remind me to high-five him next time I see him.”
I sigh. “Vick.”
She rolls her eyes.
Hunter ignores her. “Look, I—”
“Can we not?” I cut him off, a panicked look on my face. “Listen, I hope you’re doing well and that you had a good holiday. You look…you look great too. But I don’t want to do this.” I take a deep breath and sit a little taller. “I don’t have anything I want to say.”
That makes him gape. “Nothing?”
Help me forget.
I shake my head stiffly. “Nothing.”
Why he looks surprised, I’m not sure. Maybe because I always did whatever he wanted. I was quick to agree and j
ump on whatever he said. But that girl couldn’t survive on her own, so something had to change.
“She’s too nice to tell you to fuck off,” Vickie chimes in. “But I’m not. We’re trying to enjoy ourselves, so fuck off.”
I close my eyes, not having it in me to scold her or ask her to play nice for my sake.
Hunter says, “I’ll go for her.”
I open my eyes and meet his. They’re full of sorrow and other things I don’t want to read into or dissect, so I nod silently.
“I would like to talk to you eventually, though,” he adds quietly, but not pushing it before he taps the table a couple of times. “I’ll get out of your hair. Have a good meal.”
When he walks away, I stare down at my lap to avoid the look I know Vickie is shooting me right now. A look that probably includes daggers.
She says, “You have some serious explaining to do.”
I make Vickie wait until after we’re done eating, paid, and back in the car before spilling everything I’ve let myself forget. The text message. The flowers. While I was at it, I told her about Fletcher teaching me how to play poker, having an emotional breakdown in his bathroom, and then going back to his house for an early Christmas celebration with some of his friends.
Thankfully, I didn’t recognize any of them from my other life with Hunter. None of them seemed to know me either beyond being dubbed “neighbor girl” or “Dom’s teacher”.
She’d let me get it all out in the open while she drove us back to my neighborhood, soaked it all in, before saying, “I can’t believe you never told me.”
I’d hurt her feelings and felt bad.
But in the days following, we’ve made up. Instead of her sending me apology gifts, I sent a gift card to Sephora to her job, and then some of her favorite chocolates to her house. We never stay upset with each other long, especially with the bribes we offer one another, so she was texting me again in no time.
I’m lounging on the couch in my favorite pair of pajamas that say pizza is my favorite love triangle across my chest when there’s a knock at the door. And even though I tell it not to, my heart does a little jump when I get up and glance out the window to see a wagging tail, then two other bodies beside it.