“Why the hell is she on your computer, Ross?”
The young man reared back. “Relax, man. She’s not, like, trapped in there.”
“Touchy,” Mrs. Zhu sing-songed from the living room couch.
“Is this a tenant meeting?” Blake turned just in time for Mrs. Fuller to stride in, a pinched expression on her face. “If this is a tenant meeting, notices should be handed out ahead of time.”
Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is not a tenant meeting. Explain, Ross.”
“Oh, it’s your girlfriend,” said Mrs. Fuller, peeking over his shoulder. “Is she the topic of this meeting?”
“Not a meeting,” Blake said again.
“When I give her a candy, she calls it a lolly,” Mrs. Zhu shouted from the living room, laughing to herself. “Lolly.”
Blake held up a hand and silence fell. “Okay, no one say another word unless your name is Ross and you’ve got my…Autumn on your computer.”
Ross rubbed his hands together and hit a few keys. Just like that, there was a grid of pictures of Autumn. Dozens upon dozens. With her parents. With the ex-boyfriend. Smiling in that sunny way of hers, diploma in hand. Cross legged on the floor, tongue out, navigating a video game. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, rendered in a hundred different ways. All of them so…alive. Yet for all the novelty of seeing so many images of Autumn, he was stuck on the ones of her and Ian. Stomach churning, he turned away from the computer. “I don’t want to see those. Close it.”
“Hold on, man. I had to wade through her profile to get to the interesting part.” Ross punched a few more keys and Blake did his damnedest to focus on the television, but his eye continued to be drawn back to the screen. A whole wealth of information about Autumn, sitting right there for the taking. If he learned all her interests up front, maybe he wouldn’t bumble his way through dinner next time. “This is an invasion of privacy.”
“No, it’s not,” Mrs. Fuller said, leaning over, her elbow on the table. “Autumn’s account is public.”
Blake frowned. “Anyone can see that?”
“Yup.”
A growl built in his throat, but knowing Autumn didn’t mind people seeing these images, he gave up and zeroed in on the screen. A picture of a toddler-sized Autumn holding a book appeared and Ross stopped scrolling.
“Here it is. A post on her timeline from her mom.” Ross cleared his throat. “‘Hello there, Little Miss New York. Dad and I were cleaning out the shed and we found this picture of you and The Little Princess. I remember how much you loved that book. You cried for days when your cousin drew on it and I chucked it out! Anyway, there’s boxes of your crap in the shed and if you don’t come and get them, they’re going to the tip. Flights are cheap this time of year, lol! Mum XOX’”
“The Little Princess,” Blake repeated, something heavy shifting in his ribcage. “That was her favorite book?”
“Moms don’t lie about that shit.” Ross straightened, looking incredibly self-satisfied. “Do I know you or what, Blake? I wouldn’t have called the bat phone if I’d just found her vacation photos or Buzzfeed quiz results, man. I bring you stuff you can use.”
Dammit, this is why Blake tolerated the guy. Just when he was ready to disconnect the bat—his landline—the idiot did something profound. The valuable information had his wheels turning. Yeah, now he knew her favorite book, that was useful. Suddenly, he remembered what she’d told him directly at dinner last night. She wanted to be followed. Stalked. By him. Heat kicked him in the belly, kindling, spreading. He did his best to keep his features disciplined despite the building hunger. “Can I use that thing to find out where she is?”
“You’re dang right you can, man,” Ross said, tapping away at his keyboard. Mrs. Zhu and Mrs. Fuller moved in, crowding around him.
“Once you’re done finding out,” Blake said, giving Ross a pointed glance. “No more looking at her.”
For some reason, the women fell all over themselves at that totally reasonable command, giggling and widening their eyes. Blake gave them his best bored sigh, but couldn’t help a small smile when they turned back around.
“Okay. Okay, this just in. Autumn likes ice cream. You want to write this down, man?” Ross stroked at the keyboard. “Uh…”
The hair stood up on Blake’s neck at his tone. He stomped closer to the trio. “What?”
“She’s out with a pretty boy. As of…” Ross squinted at the laptop clock. “Four minutes ago.”
Mrs. Zhu looked at the screen and then gave him a sympathetic smile. “He’s hot. Probably not too touchy.”
“I’m not touchy.”
Both women pursed their lips and hummed.
Blake scrubbed at the weight on his esophagus. “Where are they?”
“Everybody calm down. Pretty boy tagged her and I’ve investigated his profile. He has a husband. Also hot.” Everyone deflated, especially Blake. Jesus, he needed to sit down, but every available seat was covered in half-finished ceramic sculptures. “She’s at the Toasted Bean on West 13th.”
“I’ll just…” Blake edged toward the door. “Look. Wendy is on.”
As soon as they all turned toward the television, he slipped out, plans already formulating in his head. It seemed when Autumn asked, he delivered.
He kind of loved that.
CHAPTER 7
Autumn stared down at her cappuccino, willing herself not to be a douche about this. She was so excited to be on a friend date with Owen. This was his favorite café, she wasn’t going to be a dick about the mediocre coffee. She wasn’t. She. Wasn’t.
“Thank you so much,” she said to the barista, who wore the familiar uniform of tattoos, surface piercings and eccentric hair, in this case blue spikes. The barista nodded without smiling, deposited Owen’s triple espresso in front of him and departed.
“Cheers,” Owen said, raising his phone in front of them in the universal sign for ‘let’s take a selfie.’ Autumn pressed her lips into her photo smile, relieved she’d worn mascara and combed her hair. Owen’s phone snapped and he withdrew his arm and began selecting filters. Autumn chose that moment to take a small sip of her coffee. Yeah, that was about what she expected. America did a lot of things well; burger chains, hot wings, gravy, bourbon, but coffee wasn’t one of them, at least not by Melbourne standards. Would it be silly of her to go home purely so she could have excellent lattes? Probably.
“My hair looks amazing in this light,” Owen muttered. “Are you cool for me to post to sosh?”
Autumn hesitated. “Do I look cute? Ian will probably see them and I’ve been in a grease coma for two weeks. I need to look cute.”
Owen froze. Autumn, terrified she’d offended him, patted his arm. “Forget it. It’s all good, put up whatever you want. Ian knows what I look like.”
Owen put his electric blue iPhone down. “Autumn Something Reynolds.”
“Martha.”
“Ooh, unfortunate.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, your first name’s nice, that’s what matters. Anyway, Autumn Martha Reynolds, what kind of friend do you think I am? I would never post a picture of you not looking cute. I took the thing in the YouCamPerfect and I’ve used three different filters. Look.”
He snatched up his phone and showed her the picture. Autumn had to admit she looked awesome; smooth skinned and, yes, cute. A nice bookend to Owen’s modelesque beauty. She smiled at the image, thinking not of Ian, but Blake. It was such a shame he wasn’t on social media. If he was, he might have seen the picture and thought—
What? What was Blake thinking at any given moment?
“Okay, you say the word and I’ll go into Facetune and take your face from a nine to a nine-point-nine,” Owen said, picking up his phone and opening the app.
“It’s all good,” Autumn said. “We look excellent, post the picture and we can have coffee and chats.”
“Oh, you’re so right. Okay I’m posting, the caption will be…‘vet’s date’
.”
As Owen played around on his phone, Autumn picked up her spoon and scooped hot milk foam into her mouth. Yeah, nah there it was again, a bitterness that wasn’t coffee and a touch of burning as well.
“Something wrong?” Owen asked.
Autumn put down her spoon. “Okay, so I don’t want to be that asshole but did you know Melbourne is considered one of the best coffee cities in the world?”
“What do you take me for? Some kind of rube?” Owen ran his fingers through his hair, as though to emphasize exactly how un-rubelike he was. “I’ve never been to Melbourne, but my ex-boyfriend’s brother lived there and he was always going on about the coffee. And the drag scene, but that’s a whole other story. What makes it better?”
“I don’t know. You guys have great beans…The machinery, maybe? Or the milk? Are you allowed to feed cows weird shit here?”
“Honey this is America. If you haven’t eaten sixteen hundred chemicals before lunch, it must be your fast day.”
Autumn laughed. “Well sorry to be a snob, but maybe it’s that.”
Owen picked up his espresso and took a sip. “Hmm, maybe you have a point. Well, seeing as we’re paying eight dollars a cup for subpar garbage, I vote never coming here again.”
“Oh we don’t have to—”
“Nonsense. We’ll try that organic place on 9th street. Isa’s always babbling on about it. Sorry she’s not here, by the way. She’s having sex with some Joseph Heller wannabe on a mattress with no sheets or a bedframe.” Owen gave a contemptuous sniff. “What she sees in these men, I have no idea, but that’s not the point. The point is how the fuck was your sex date with your beefy bear landlord?”
Autumn felt her cheeks heat. “Is it okay if we circle back to that conversation?”
“Did something go wrong?”
“No, it’s just…” Autumn remembered the way Blake had stood over her, his face shadowed, his hands in his pockets. “…it was really intense and I’m not sure how to put it into words just yet.”
Owen picked up his coffee and sipped, looking thoughtful. “Okay, as long as you’re still feeling good about the date?”
“I am, I promise.”
“Then in that case, we’re going to have to move on to my other topic of conversation. Why, oh why, are you thinking of leaving this beautiful nation—by which I mean New York—to go back to the land down under?”
Autumn opened her mouth. “I—”
“Wait! If you say coffee, I will slap you! We can find you good coffee.” Owen pushed the home button on his phone. “Siri, make a note, I’m going to find Autumn the best coffee in the city or die trying.”
“Making a note,” came the robot reply.
Autumn laughed and grabbed at his wrist. “Relax, you don’t need to deliver on that insane promise. It’s not the coffee.”
“Then what is it? You have everything here, your apartment, a hot bearish landlord who wants to turn you out on the reg, no sociopath eyes boyfriend—”
“And no friends or family.”
“Ahh, now we’re getting somewhere.” Owen put his chin on his hand. “Go on, tell your story.”
Autumn felt her mouth retract, her smile pulling itself back into her body. The story started with her family, but talking about her family always felt like giving emotional birth. She didn’t want to heap that on Owen, at least not right out of the gate. “Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”
Owen grimaced. Unlike most of his reactions, Autumn could tell it was involuntary, completely without theatrics. She grinned. “Yeah, mine is kind of like that, too.”
“You don’t like them?”
“It’s not that…” she sighed. “I love them, but they’re so hard to be around. They’re loud and rude and they think that if a waiter doesn’t take your order ten seconds after you put your menu down, they’re ignoring you and need to get yelled at.”
“Yeesh.”
“Tell me about it. My parents fucking loved Ian, too. Worshipped the ground he walked on. I mean, sure they thought he was a theatre ponce, but he made them laugh and he was handsome.” She looked across at Owen. “My mum is a big fan of handsome men. Grandchildren, you know?”
Owen smiled in a way that said he understood. “Have you told them about the…?”
“About the break up?” Autumn shook her head. “Haven’t been able to handle it. Everyone’s going to freak out. They thought we were about to get engaged.”
“Soo, not to ask the obvious, but why on Christ’s green earth would you want to go home to that?”
Autumn sighed, picking up her now-cool coffee and draining half of it. “So a week ago, I get a call from my mother and she’s all ‘Autie, when are you and Ian coming home? I need to plan Christmas dinner and I’m not buying two hams unless you’re both here—’”
“Does your mother actually sound like the ‘dingo ate my baby’ lady, post three packets of cigarettes?”
“She does. Anyway, the next item on her nag agenda is to tell me that my uncle’s partner is retiring and if I’m not the worst person who ever lived, I’d come home and buy into the family business.”
“The family business?”
“My uncle’s a vet. He owns a clinic.” Autie pictured the faded brick building where she’d spend so much of her young adulthood, the long grass and faded blue and grey sign. “He helped me get a bunch of experience while I was at uni—”
“You mean college?”
“Yeah. I worked for him while I was studying. He paid me like, one dollar an hour and tried to get me to euthanize a dog by hitting it with a shovel, but in my mum’s eyes, he’s my savior.”
Owen’s mouth fell open. “Goddamn, girl.”
“I know.”
“Why couldn’t you get away from him when you moved for college?”
Autumn smiled. “Because I didn’t move away for college. People don’t really do that where I’m from. Rich kids board on campus, the rest of us commute. I lived at home the whole time I was studying.”
“Why? How did you party? Experiment sexually? I might still be in the closet if I didn’t go to college. I mean, not really but you get me.”
Autumn laughed. “I do, but Ian and I got together my second year. That kind of ended my sexual experimentation.”
Owen narrowed his eyes. “We’ll discuss the hyena later. You don’t want to move home and become a partner in your uncle’s unethical dog murdering business, right?”
“Fuck no, but he’s been pushing for it ever since I got qualified and my parents are really gunning for me to do it.”
Owen bumped her shoulder with his own. “Who cares what your parents want? Stay in New York.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is! This is the best city on earth and your uncle is someone who, and I cannot emphasize this enough, wanted you to hit a dog with a shovel.”
Autumn stared into her coffee. “I know, but if I bought into the business, I could change all of that. I could run things the way I wanted, basically be my own boss. No more overmedicated MILF’s telling me how to do my job. No more ten-hour shifts. I could start saving up for a house—”
“And gain mom and dad’s eternal approval?”
Autumn looked up, feeling a hot wash of, not irritation, but overexposure. First she’d been cut open and laid bare by Blake’s knowledge of how she wanted to be dominated sexually, and now Owen was saying all the things she had only heard inside her own head. “You don’t know what it’s like! My parents put all these crazy expectations on me!”
“Really?” Owen placed a fingertip to his perfectly shaved chin. “Hmm, did my parents put their expectations on me, the gayest little boy ever born in Buttfuck, Iowa? Let me think…”
Autumn winced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have played the ‘you don’t know what it’s like’ card. That was dumb.”
He flipped a hand through the air. “Don’t freak out. I was just being bitchy. I know exactly what it’s like to g
row up with your parents breathing down your neck, wanting you to be something you’re not.” He shuddered. “College, honey. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You still talk to your parents, right?”
An uncharacteristically ugly look twisted Owen’s handsome features. “I do.”
“And they like…accept you?”
“They came to my wedding, but I dunno, it never feels quite right. I still catch them staring at me sometimes with that old look in their eyes. Like they don’t know where I came from and they’re wondering when the real Owen will show up.”
Autumn’s heart squeezed tight inside her chest. She’d always felt like she’d been air-dropped into the Reynolds family, the lone nerd in a family of alcoholics and troublemakers—and one weirdo vet—but she didn’t feel entitled to go on about it when Owen had clearly gone through worse. She put her hand over his. “I’m really sorry.”
He gave her a sad smile. “It’s ancient history girl, but thanks. It’s always good to meet someone else who gets it. And you do get it.”
They held hands for a moment and Owen gave a watery chuckle. “Look at the two of us, sitting here all melancholy, like we’re not young, sexy vets. Let’s talk about something else.”
So they ordered another round of drinks, tea this time, and they gossiped about the Happy Paws regulars and Isabella’s dating history. Autumn was having such a good time, she was just about to suggest heading somewhere else for lunch when she spotted him.
She didn’t react with dignity. Instead, she let out a yelp and knocked over her tea strainer.
“What’s wrong?” Owen demanded. “Did you see Ian?”
She shook her head, admiring how accurate his instincts were. “No, I just bit my tongue, what were you saying about that tech bro Isabella banged?”
Owen returned to the story with gusto, leaving Autumn free to glance at Blake. Her Landlord was sitting three tables away, reading a newspaper he appeared to have brought in himself. He looked different, and she realized she’d never seen him in the daytime, before. She liked it. The natural light reflecting off his plaid shirt and thick black hair made him seem more real somehow. Huge and solid and human.
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