She smiles as she slides onto the stool to my right. “Did you meet Peyton yet?” she asks, eyeing my drink.
“We talked a little, but she has other customers.”
Peyton sees Lonnie and hurries over. “Hey, girl. The usual?” Peyton asks.
I’m not sure what Lonnie’s usual is. Is she a beer drinker, or does she prefer mixed drinks?
“You know it,” Lonnie says.
Peyton grabs the vodka and some cranberry juice. I try not to scowl, but I’ve always hated cranberry juice. It’s too tart for me. And vodka was never my favorite either. I much prefer gin or tequila.
The crowd starts to file into the bar, and Peyton says, “I’ll be back to talk in a bit,” before rushing off to help them.
“So, how was your day?” Lonnie asks, and something about the question feels wrong to me. Like we’ve been together forever and she’s asking about my day like always. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much, except that I don’t want Lonnie to be the one asking me that. I want Emily to be. Only she won’t. First, because we work together and she knows how my day was since she was there. And second, Emily doesn’t want the kind of relationship where we come home and talk about things like a married couple. She doesn’t want anything even remotely resembling marriage.
“David?” Lonnie puts her hand on my arm. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
I look down at her hand and reach for my beer to casually avoid her touch. “Sorry. Long day. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” She straightens in her seat.
“I know you met Emily at Last Call yesterday.”
She nods. “She came to the bar.”
“So you know she’s my roommate.”
Another nod.
“What you don’t know is that Emily and I used to date.”
“Used to? So you’re broken up now?” Her body language is screaming, “Don’t hurt me!” from the way she’s crossing her legs to the way she’s leaning away from me in her seat.
“We aren’t officially together, but we do still go out on occasion.”
“What do you mean you still go out? Are you sleeping with her?”
I can’t bring myself to answer, which turns out to be answer enough.
Lonnie’s face reddens. “You’re kidding, right? Tell me I’m not the idiot dating the guy who’s sleeping with his roommate!” Her voice is so loud people turn in our direction. She’s making a scene, and it’s all my fault.
Peyton’s eyes flash in my direction. I know what’s coming before she storms over to me and grabs my beer. “Get out of my bar,” she says. “Now, before I call the police.”
She has no right to call the cops on me for cheating on her friend. One because I didn’t cheat. We aren’t exclusive. We’ve only been on one date. And two, I’ve done nothing to merit being thrown out.
I turn toward Lonnie, wanting to explain. It’s not Lonnie’s fault that this happened or that I’m still hung up on Emily. I don’t want to leave things this way. “I know it looks bad, but there’s more to the story than that.” Not that I think it will make her feel any better. “Emily and I dated earlier in the summer but split up because she wasn’t looking for anything serious.”
Lonnie’s eyes widen. “So what, you started seeing me and suddenly, she was willing to date you again because you weren’t looking to commit to anyone? Did you use me to get her back? Is that what this is?”
I’ve only made this worse because I can’t disagree with what she said. It is the truth. I might not have set out to hurt Lonnie, but I allowed myself to when I knew she’d be the one to pay the price. I’m officially an ass. I stand up, take a twenty out of my wallet, and place it on the bar. “I’m sorry, Lonnie. You deserve better.” With that, I walk out of the bar.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emily
Sebastian’s left me four messages—two voice mails and two texts—wanting to know when we’re going out again. I’m not sure how to respond to him. He’s a lot of fun to hang out with, and David did go out with Lonnie last night. Although he was home surprisingly early. My assumption is she was called in to work unexpectedly again. He told me it’s happened before.
I decide to meet Tara at the corner café on my lunch break to get her take on the situation. She’s already there when I arrive. “Took you long enough. I thought maybe you were standing me up,” she says when I sit down.
“Sorry. Last-minute story assignment right before I left. I had to get it covered before I could leave.” Luckily, James was able to take the story. He’s been trying to get back on my good side after the incident at Last Call. I’m chalking it up to him having had a bad day and nothing more.
“So, you sounded stressed on the phone, and I doubt it was from work. Talk to me.” She leans forward, resting her arms on the menu, which is open on the table in front of her.
“It’s this whole David-Sebastian situation.”
“Are you ready to admit David’s the one you want? The only one?” She puts enough stress on the word to make me physically feel the weight of it.
“David’s amazing. He is. And that’s why I can’t get serious with him. When things wind up going bad—and they will—I’ll be crushed.”
She cocks her head. “Interesting how this went from David getting hurt to you getting your heart broken. What’s changed?”
The waiter interrupts, bringing Tara an iced tea. “What can I get you to drink?” he asks me.
“I’ll have a ginger ale.” I look at Tara. “Did you order your food yet?”
“Nope, but I’m ready when you are.”
I don’t have to look at the menu. “I’ll take the chicken caesar wrap.” I hand the waiter my menu, and he nods before turning to Tara.
“You know, that sounds good. I’ll have the same.”
After taking her menu, the waiter leaves us to pick up with our conversation.
“I’m not sure what’s changed. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s dating Lonnie. I get...”
“Jealous,” Tara says. “That’s to be expected.”
“It’s like every time he mentions her, I want to stake my claim on him, which is insane because I don’t want to see him exclusively.” I’m like a walking contradiction, and I hate it.
“I get that you have commitment issues. It’s completely understandable, but don’t you think there are any exceptions? Don’t you know any couples who have lasted?” she asks.
I search my memory. I don’t have a large family, so there aren’t many people to set examples there. My friends are all either single or recently engaged, so there’s nothing to prove love can last there either. Finally, I shrug and say, “No. Not a one.”
“Okay, Madam Newswoman, I have an assignment for you.” She taps her nail against her glass. “I want you to use your researching know-how to find the oldest living couple in Priority. Then I want you to go talk to them and write an article on whether or not love can prevail.”
I can’t deny that would make a great opinion piece for the paper. But do I have time to follow through with it on top of the column and my editorial duties? “I don’t know. I’d have to run it by Aria first, and then I’d have to make room in my schedule before—”
Tara shakes her head. “No. I’m not letting you back out of this. I want that piece in one week.” She jabs her index finger on the table top for emphasis.
“I’m sorry. I must have missed you becoming my boss. When exactly were you hired? Was I out that day?”
The waiter returns with my ginger ale, setting it down in front of me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I have a message for you as well,” he says.
I narrow my eyes at him as he hands me a note. “Thanks,” I say, totally confused. I wait until he walks away before I unfold the note and read it aloud for Tara. “‘Emily, I keep missing you. I guess you’ve been busy at the paper. I happened to see you when I walked by just now, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Lunch is
on me, for you and your friend. Call me.’ It’s signed, ‘Sebastian.’”
Tara looks around. “Did you even see him?” she asks.
“No. But he saw us. That was really sweet of him.”
“Make sure you thank him for me. I love a free lunch. It always tastes better.”
Now what? Sebastian is as sweet as David. I don’t want to hurt him either. “I’m going to text him now.” I take my phone from my purse.
Emily: Thank you for lunch. You didn’t have to do that. I’m available for dinner tonight if you are. My treat.
I press send, and before I can return the phone to my purse, it dings with a response.
Sebastian: Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.
My breath catches in my throat.
“What’s wrong?” Tara asks.
“He wants to pick me up at my place.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t need to ask why that’s a problem.
“David’s been okay with me seeing Sebastian, but neither of us has brought anyone to the apartment. It’s sort of been an unspoken rule.”
Tara sips her tea. “You two are making dating way more complicated than it needs to be.”
“I’ll tell Sebastian I’ll meet him somewhere. I’ll say I have to come straight from work.” I shoot him a quick text saying exactly that.
His reply comes right away.
Sebastian: I’m starting to think you don’t want me to know where you live. Are you a hoarder or something? If so, I’m fine with it. How about I pick you up at the paper?
He’s not going to let this go. I doubt David will be staying late at work, so I agree.
Emily: Sure.
Sebastian: Great! See you then!
I put my phone away as the waiter returns with our food. I’m not sure I’m up to eating anymore, though.
After lunch, I pitch the story idea to Aria, who loves it. Just my luck. So I spend the afternoon researching the oldest couple in Priority. Their names are Frank and Ethel Burbridge, and they’re both ninety-two years old. I pull up their address, typing it into my phone so I don’t lose it. I find their phone number and call them.
“Hello?” an older woman answers.
“Hi, is this Mrs. Burbridge?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Emily Richards. I’m an editor at For the Record, the newspaper.” Being that the paper is still new, I add the last part for clarification. Someone of Ethel’s age probably doesn’t keep up on what’s new in Priority.
“A reporter? Did I do something? I’ve always wanted to be interviewed. If I witnessed some sort of crime I don’t know about, I’d be happy to help.”
“No, ma’am. Nothing like that. I’m doing a story on...” I don’t want to say “the oldest living couple” because that might insult her. “On couples who have lived in Priority the longest, and it seems like you and your husband might hold the record.”
“Ooh, do we win something?” The excitement in her voice makes me smile. She sounds like such a sweet old woman.
“Well, you get to be interviewed by me, and I’m going to run a story about you in the paper. If that’s okay with you and your husband,” I add.
“Oh!” She practically squeals into the phone. “Frank, we’re going to be in the newspaper,” she says so loudly I gather Frank wears hearing aids.
“Mrs. Burbridge, if you tell me when would be a good time to interview you, I can come right to you.”
“Do you like meatloaf, my dear? We live with my daughter. She’s making meatloaf tonight. You could join us and interview Frank and me over dinner.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you, Mrs. Burbridge, but I don’t want to intrude.” Her daughter might not be as eager to have me over as Ethel is.
“I insist. Victoria works until six o’clock. We usually eat at seven. Does that work for you?”
Looks like I’m not going on a date tonight after all. Sorry, Sebastian. “Seven works fine. Let me give you my number so your daughter can call me if it’s a problem for me to come over tonight.” I wait for her to get a pen and paper and then slowly say the numbers, which she repeats back to me.
“I’m so excited. I’m going to be a celebrity. It only took ninety-two years.” She laughs, so I know she doesn’t really think the article will gain her celebrity status.
“I’m looking forward to meeting you and your husband tonight, Mrs. Burbridge.”
“See you tonight, dear.” She hangs up, and I do the same.
“What was that about?” David asks. Even with the new office setup, his desk is still positioned next to mine.
“A new story idea.”
He stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
“It was Tara’s idea, actually, but Aria loves it.”
He’s still not satisfied with that as the full response.
“It’s about the oldest living couple in Priority and whether or not relationships can withstand the test of time.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but David doesn’t even try to mask his shock.
“Oh. There’s a story I never thought you’d write. Why not assign it to one of the staff writers?”
“Tara thinks it will be good for me to write it myself.” I don’t tell him why because I’m sure he can figure it out for himself. We’ve already discussed my family’s track record with marriage.
“I think she’s right. And some of the best pieces are produced when you’re forced out of your comfort zone.”
Well, this will definitely be making me step out of my comfort zone. “I have to cancel my date tonight, though. The Burbridges want to meet with me at seven, and I was supposed to have dinner with Sebastian.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. He probably feels the same way about Sebastian that I feel about Lonnie. I like the idea of her but don’t want to deal with the reality of seeing her in person.
I text Sebastian before it slips my mind.
Emily: Sorry, but I have to cancel. Work. I’m interviewing a source tonight at seven. Rain check?
“We still have a column to work on, too,” David says. “Don’t forget. Maybe we can do that on Friday.”
“It’s a date,” I say, realizing my choice of words. “You know what I mean.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “A work date. Nothing wrong with that.”
My phone vibrates with a text.
Sebastian: Can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. How’s tomorrow night looking for you?
Really? What are the odds he’d ask about the same night I just made plans for not even ten seconds ago?
Emily: Tomorrow night David and I have to write our column. Saturday?
Sebastian: I’m holding you to it.
“Everything okay with Sebastian?” David asks, dipping his head in the direction of my phone.
“Yeah, rescheduling.”
“Good.”
Sure. Except it doesn’t feel good at all. I feel like I’m setting everyone up for heartbreak. Sebastian, David, and myself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
David
By five o’clock I get the best worst idea ever. It’s the best idea because it means I get to go along with Emily on this interview. It’s the worst idea because it means I might get a front-row seat to Emily’s reaction to the Burbridges. What if they’re a cranky old couple who can’t stand each other? That would only solidify Emily’s feeling that people shouldn’t try to commit to each other for life.
Still, I find myself in Aria’s office pitching my spin on the story.
“So, you want to write a news article on the couple so that Emily’s opinion piece can work as a companion story to it.” She nods. “I love it. I think it’s brilliant. You two really are a great team, David. You’re giving the paper all these new angles to pursue to increase readership. Terry is going to love this. I have no doubt, so my answer is yes. Go to the interview with Emily tonight. I’m excited to see what you both come
up with.” She stands up and walks me out of the office. When we reach her door, I open it to see Emily looking up at us with a confused expression on her face. Aria gives her a thumbs-up, which only makes Emily’s face contort more.
The second I walk over to my desk and sit down, Emily spins her chair to face me. “What was that about?”
“Oh, I’m going to be accompanying you on the interview this evening. I’m writing a news piece on the couple. Aria thought it would run well alongside your opinion piece.”
“Aria thought that?” Her voice is more accusation than question. “You mean, you pitched the idea to her without consulting me first.”
“I didn’t think it would be a problem. We’ve teamed up on stories before. We’re doing it every week for the column.” I play it off as nothing out of the ordinary, but I suspect she knows my true motivation. I want to see her reaction to the Burbridges for myself.
She shakes her head. “The couple lives with their daughter, and they invited me to dinner. I don’t even know if the daughter will be okay with me coming by. I’m not sure I can get it approved for you to join me.”
“Well, Aria’s ecstatic about the idea. If you’d like, I can call the couple.”
Emily shakes her head and picks up her phone. “I’ll do it.” She dials the number and puts the phone to her ear, obviously not wanting me to hear. Not that it’s quiet enough in the newsroom to put the call on speaker. Although we could have called from the conference room and used speaker.
“Hello, Mrs. Burbridge. This is Emily Richards again from For the Record.” She pauses. “Yes, that’s correct. One of my colleagues would like to join me for the interview. He’s interested in doing a news article on you and your husband in addition to the story I’ll be writing.” She barely gets the words out before she’s cut off. I can’t hear what Mrs. Burbridge is saying, but Emily looks concerned. “You do understand that means they’ll be one more for dinner. Will your daughter be okay with that?” Another pause. “Oh, you already... She does. I see. Okay, well, I guess David and I will both see you at seven.” She says goodbye and hangs up before looking at me.
I Belong With You Page 16