by Sara Rider
And maybe even kind of like it sometimes. Not that he would ever admit it.
“Cheers,” Ian said, clinking his bottle with Fergus’s.
“Cheers. Now get your feet off my coffee table before you mess up my puzzle.”
Ian ignored him by taking a long pull from his bottle. “How’s work going?”
“You know we’re not friends, right?”
Ian’s mouth split into a wide grin. “You keep saying that, and yet here we are, hanging out every Saturday night like best buds.”
Fergus groaned. “Work’s fine.”
“And Emily?”
No matter how much his nosy neighbor annoyed him, Fergus couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his daughter. “She’s good. She just got offered a scholarship to a prestigious private school.”
“Hey! That’s great.” Ian leaned over and clinked his bottle with Fergus’s again. There were many types of people that annoyed Fergus, and overly enthusiastic drink clinkers were right up there with patrons who spilled coffee on library books and people who took calls on speakerphone in public washrooms.
“She’s hesitating about going.”
“Why?”
“Not sure. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s coming here for spring break, though.” Fergus didn’t know why he added that last part, but Ian reached over and clinked again.
“That’s great. Really great.” There was something different Ian’s expression now. He looked more like a wounded puppy.
“Have you heard from Melissa?”
Ian looked down at his bottle, twisting the brown glass in his hands. “She’s asking for a divorce.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, man.” And he was. Ian and Melissa had been in the process of separating when Fergus first moved in eighteen months ago. Their personalities had been so different, it didn’t surprise Fergus that they couldn’t make their marriage work, but it was obvious Ian had loved her. Still loved her.
“It’s okay,” Ian said with false enthusiasm. “I’m starting a new chapter in life. It’s going to be good.”
“Exactly.” Every muscle and brain cell in his body protested, but he still found himself reaching across the couch and clinking his bottle against Ian’s.
Ian smiled like Fergus had just given him a million dollars, making Fergus regret the gesture immediately. But then the smile faded all too quickly. “It gets easier, right?”
Fergus inhaled deeply. “Yeah, it does. But it’s going to hurt like a bitch first.”
Ian nodded, lips pulled into a tight line. “Want to watch the game?”
“No.”
As per their routine, Ian ignored Fergus’s answer and reached for the remote, then flipped to some kind of sportsball.
Other than Ian’s occasional cheers and hollers, they watched in silence for a couple of periods or quarters or whatever the hell it was, only pausing the game when the pizza arrived. Fergus paid for the delivery and cracked open another couple beers that were cooling in his fridge.
“Oh, man, you just missed the most incredible play,” Ian said around a mouthful of pizza when Fergus came back into the room with the beers. “I can rewind.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” Ian went to take another bite, but something exciting must have happened in the game because he jumped to his feet with a wild yelp, causing the top layer of cheese to slide off his pizza and onto his shirt. “Damn. That’s a waste. I better go clean this up.”
Fergus took advantage of Ian’s momentary disappearance to flip to the documentary channel. He’d never been much of a sports fan, despite the fact he’d been socialized to watch men bang into each other while chasing a ball around a field or a court from a young age simply because of his gender. He didn’t begrudge people who liked sports—well, okay, maybe he begrudged them a little. Mostly he just didn’t want to watch them.
“What’s this?” Ian asked as he came back into the living room.
“A detailed examination of the role of forensic DNA techniques in catching serial killers.”
“Not your weird, morbid addiction to true crime. This.” Ian waved Nicole and Tom’s wedding invitation, sending a rainbow of glitter cascading through the air.
“It’s exactly what the words say it is.”
Ian tossed the invite onto the coffee table and sat down once more. “You’re cool with Nicole getting remarried?”
Fergus probably wouldn’t have bothered answering a question that personal if it weren’t for the ache haunting Ian’s eyes. The man deserved to know the truth. “Yeah. I am.”
“So why haven’t you RSVP’d yet?”
Fergus didn’t have an answer. He was going, no question about that. He owed it to Nicole and Emily to show up, but every time he went to fill in the little box asking if there would be a plus one, he hesitated.
“Still figuring out your plus one?” Ian asked as if reading Fergus’s mind. He didn’t answer, but Ian took that silence as confirmation. “I’d offer to be your date, but that’s my annual golf weekend with my cousins. But hey, it’s a modern era. There’s nothing wrong with showing up solo to a wedding.”
“It’s not that,” Fergus grumbled.
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Got someone else in mind?”
Fergus downed the last of his beer. This time, he was smart enough not to say anything.
Ian watched him for a moment, then finished his beer, too, and set the bottle on the coffee table next to Fergus’s. “It’s getting late. Thanks for the pizza. Same time next week?”
Fergus nodded.
He stared at the invitation for a long time after Ian left. Why hadn’t he responded yet? There was no jealousy or lingering heartbreak between him and Nicole after all this time, so it shouldn’t matter whether he had a date or not. That damn plus one box on the RSVP card kept tripping him up. It taunted him with possibilities he’d long thought were closed off to him. He hadn’t dated after his divorce. All his time and energy had been devoted to his daughter. But Emily was fourteen now. Her mom was getting remarried. Was it time for him to consider dating again?
No. He’d made a promise to Emily that he wouldn’t date yet. Not until she told him it was okay, and he never broke his promises to his daughter. But for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to do exactly that.
5
Julia sliced the strawberries and laid them out in an arcing row above the pineapple, cantaloupe, and blueberries on the serving plate, creating a beautiful rainbow of fruit.
“That looks gorgeous,” Nora said, dumping a bag of chips into a bowl.
“Thanks! I’ve been practicing.”
Nora looked around the kitchen and drummed her fingers against her chin. “Fruit platter. Chips. Popcorn. Soda. Beer. What else are we missing?”
“Napkins,” Julia said, grabbing a stack from a nearby drawer. Though their weekly Red Zephyr viewing parties took place at Clem and Jake’s place since they had the biggest living room, Julia had always been the one to do the organizing. Now that Nora had joined their fold—a woman almost as Type A as she was—Julia finally had a little extra help. She needed it, too.
She was tired. Her mind whirred with too many thoughts to let her sleep and she may have taken too much on with the Love Your Library event—not that she would ever admit it. The Kiesselburger siblings had blown up her phone last night to complain about each other when she was sneaking in a Pilates video workout. Every single one of them had called her separately to decry the amount of time they were allotted for their speech, even though they’d all been given the exact same amount. And the same amount of photos of themselves in the video montage, despite the petulant claims of the second, fourth, and fifth Kiesselburger siblings. And then there were the complaints about the menu, the music, the venue…
They had reached a level of obnoxious infighting that even she and Eli had never achieved. If it had been any other situation, Julia would have walked away from the job long ago, especially considering she w
asn’t getting paid a dime for any of it. She couldn’t quit, though. George and Carol Kiesselburger had been too kind to her over the years. They were the first people in the condo complex to welcome her with a plateful of homemade cookies when she moved in, and always checked up on her when they hadn’t seen her around much. They were a sweet old couple with the kind of love that inspired her. They deserved an equally wonderful anniversary party and their kids weren’t going to accomplish it without her.
“Right,” Nora said. “Napkins. I forgot to put them on the list. We’re all set. I’ve got to start making more lists for this event.”
Julia smiled, not caring if they didn’t have snacks at all. She was just happy to have a night to sit down and relax and watch her favorite sci-fi show with her favorite people. She carried the tray of fruit to the large coffee table and set it between the popcorn and the salt-and-vinegar chips.
“Saved you a seat, sis.” Eli patted the open spot on the couch beside him, then cracked open an IPA and handed it her.
“Thanks.” Given that there were eleven people who attended their weekly viewing parties, she was always grateful not to be one of the people stuck sitting on the floor.
Clem angled the remote toward the TV. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Clover, one of Clem’s older sisters, said. “Hurry up and hit play. I’m dying to find out what happened after the Battle of Horgrath.”
Julia’s phone buzzed. She grabbed it from the coffee table and turned off the sound. The Kiesselburgers could wait one more night. But the name on the display made her stop short. It wasn’t any of the Kiesselburgers calling. It was Fergus.
Since their meeting last week at the Holy Grale, they’d followed up with a series of emails and texts to finalize budget and design choices before sending it to Mayor Khouri for approval. It was all very formal. Since then, she’d only once brought up the idea of his speech, suggesting he send her the draft when it was done. He was texting now to say it was ready.
It was the kind of thing that could wait until tomorrow, but her curiosity had a habit of getting the best of her, especially when it came to Fergus. She typed her response.
Send it to my email.
The email notification popped up before she could set her phone down. She opened the attachment and began scrolling through, wrinkling her nose as she did. The words were wooden, sentences stilted, and he’d given no thought to cadence whatsoever.
She sent him a quick text suggesting he change the opening to start with a joke to put himself and the audience at ease. If he won their favor early on, they’d be more likely to pay attention to the laundry list of statistics and figures about borrow rates and search results.
His reply came immediately. I don’t tell jokes.
Her mouth quirked into a little smile. She sent back a gif of an exaggerated eye-roll, followed by the word coward.
Most jokes aren’t funny.
Somehow it didn’t surprise her that he had no sense of humor. That’s not the point.
Someone nearby cleared their throat. She looked up to see eleven pairs of eyes staring at her, TV still on pause. She winced. “Sorry. Just finishing something up. You don’t have to wait for me.”
Her phone buzzed again.
What did the carrot say to the celery?
She typed in three questions marks.
Quit stalking me.
She groaned. No surprise you don’t find jokes funny. That was terrible.
You can do better?
What’s a librarian’s favorite vegetable? Quiet peas!
That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard. You are forever banned from giving me joke advice.
She sent back an emoji of a face with a tongue sticking out.
Another throat cleared, much more theatrically this time.
“Sorry!”
“Julia,” Eli said sternly. “Who are you texting?”
“Just a client,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.
Clem narrowed her eyes. “Which one?”
Julia’s cheeks heated. “The library event.” It wasn’t much as far as subterfuge went, and she wasn’t surprised when the eyebrows of all eleven people in the room shot upward. She’d made her dislike of Fergus MacNair known after the first time he refused to loan her Torrents of the Heart, and had complained just as loudly when she found out he was the one she’d be working with for the event. No one would have expected her to be communicating with him regularly, much less giggling at his texts.
Truth be told, she could barely believe it. It seemed that whenever they talked about something other than late fees and romance novels, they actually got along.
“Give me your phone,” Eli said.
“What?” Her attention had somehow drifted off again—landing squarely on Fergus MacNair. She was too slow to react when her brother snatched the phone away and started typing. “Give that back.”
“Not yet.” In a move only an older brother could perfect, he hopped over the couch and out of her reach. She got to her feet and chased after him. Unfortunately, he’d had too much practice being an obnoxious big brother, typing furiously as he ran. He hit the send button with an unnecessary amount of flourish. “There.”
She snatched it back. “What did you do?”
“If you’re going to spend the evening chatting with the beefcake librarian, you might as well do it in person, so I invited him over.”
“Eli!” She looked at the text in horror. This is Julia Rose Hardin and I am of sound mind and body. I request your immediate presence at 145 Crocus Lane for my Red Zephyr viewing party and we can finish this convo in person.
The only thing keeping her from smacking Eli upside the head was the knowledge that Fergus MacNair hated people and would never, ever take that invitation seriously. She started to text an apology, but Fergus’s reply came before she could explain what happened.
Okay.
Oh no.
Fergus had no idea what made him say yes so quickly. He didn’t like people. Especially not groups of them. He wanted to blame his answer on the fact he’d just gotten back from visiting Emily in Seattle, and Nicole had spent most of the weekend needling him about his lack of a social life, but that wouldn’t be true. He was used to ignoring her teasing. He couldn’t blame it on the fact he was a mega Red Zephyr fan either, since he preferred to engage in said fandom by himself in the comfort of his home.
No, the only reason he’d said yes so quickly was because Julia had asked. Or, at least, he thought she had. The text inviting him had been an abrupt change of tone from all their other conversations, but he’d never had the greatest read on her to begin with. She was so strange and bossy. And for some reason he found that irresistible.
He sat in his car a few minutes longer than necessary as he contemplated whether to turn around and drive home, but then there would be an awkward conversation about why he said yes in the first place. Besides, he could see half a dozen faces staring out at him through the window. He was going to have to go inside, watch the damn TV show, and then go home. And then he was going to remember that his and Julia’s relationship was a business one and nothing more, no matter how much that small, reckless part of him wished otherwise.
With a sigh, he opened the door of his car and lumbered to the porch.
The front door swung open before he could knock. “Hey,” he said to Clem, who was standing on the other side. She was a frequent face at the library, even more so than Julia. Clem was less of a mystery, too. She was a quiet soul who adored books and mostly kept to herself.
“Hi, Fergus. Come join the crowd.”
He kicked the snow off his boots before coming in and brushed the flakes from his jacket and hair. An uncomfortable feeling prickled along the back of his neck when he stepped inside. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got Julia’s text, but it wasn’t this. First of all, there were a dozen people crammed inside the small living room. Who wanted to watch TV with this many people?
There were
decorations, too. Red and black streamers and balloons, and at least two people he didn’t recognize were dressed in Marcus Redbear costumes.
He really should have stayed home.
He recognized a few people in the room. Lisa was another frequent library patron, and Clover came in often with her twin daughters, who the rest of the library staff had nicknamed the Tornado Twins because they always left a trail of battered picture books in their wake. Ellie and Millie were early, eager readers, though, and more than once he’d caught them trying to sneak a few very adult romance novels through the checkout line.
Awkwardness felt like a hot breath on his neck. What was he doing here? Clem ushered him farther inside, and his eyes finally fell on Julia at the back of the room. The pained look on her face told him all he needed to know.
“You didn’t send me that invite, did you?”
Her expression turned into a grimace that bunched her cheeks like she’d just swallowed a bug and was trying to pretend it didn’t happen. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.” He’d never been one for sharing his emotions easily, but that one simple word felt like he was spilling his heart out. There was only one reason he’d come—because he thought she’d asked him to. There was nothing else in the world that would have dragged him to this kind of thing. Now, he just felt like an idiot.
“What does it matter if she sent the invite? This is a party,” one of the men in the room said. Fergus recognized him from the Holy Grale. Eli, Julia’s brother. “Any friend of Julia’s is welcome.”
“We’re not friends,” he and Julia said at the same time.
Fergus scrubbed his face, trying to find somewhere to direct his gaze other than her. At least they were on the same page about one thing. They weren’t friends. He knew that. He just didn’t know what the hell they actually were.
“Okay,” Eli said slowly, more curious than contrite. “Well, why don’t you stay anyway? You’re already here plus we’ve got enough food for an army. More importantly, if you stay, Julia won’t spend the rest of the evening texting you and we can finally watch the show.”