by Dee Lagasse
Before he can even say anything to me, I hold up the yellow parking pass I was given by the front office on Friday.
“I promise, I’m not a stalker, it’s just a crazy coincidence that I live here too,” I say defending myself.
“Well, then, it must be your lucky day,” Hippie Santa pauses, glancing over the pass, before reading out my name. “Paxton Callaghan. Because the little lady ahead of you said, and I quote, ‘either it’s fate or he’s a stalker’ before asking me to double check to see if you have a parking pass.”
It’s fate.
“It’s just Pax,” I say for what feels like the fiftieth time today as I take my parking pass back from the attendant. “And what can I call you, sir?”
“Oh,” he chuckles. “I’m Mike. I’m here Monday through Friday, eleven to seven. Lou comes in after me, and Paula is here in the mornings. There’s a different crew on the weekends. I’m not too sure about all their names though.”
“Well, Mike, thanks for not attacking me with the pepper spray in your hands,” I say, nodding down to the small bottle he’s gripping in his left hand. “I appreciate that.”
“Sure, no problem.” He nods back in approval. “Glad you’re not a stalker.”
Turning, he walks back over to the small booth sitting on a concrete island in the middle of the road, waving as I pass by. Taking a right at the third brick building, I pull into my parking spot…right next to a white Legacy.
No way. There’s no fucking way.
Grabbing the bag of food from Capparelli & Co. with one hand, I reach into my pocket and use the blue key that opens the main door to the building with my other. As soon as I open the door, I don’t take more than a step into the building before the head of a bright platinum blonde hair catches my attention.
With her own bag of takeout in one hand, Cole opens the door of the small metal mailbox belonging to her apartment on the wall. Pulling out a few pieces of mail and tucking them under her arm, she closes the mailbox and turns to where I’m standing.
“We really have to stop meeting like this,” she laughs, repeating her comment from outside of Capparelli & Co. while shaking her head.
“I just moved into 2B on Friday,” I explain, wanting her to know I’m really not a stalker.
“Did you say 2B?” she repeats, her brows furrow as her head tilts in confusion. “As in the first apartment immediately to the left on the second floor?”
“I did,” I confirm. “And yes, that’s the one. Why?”
“So, you’re the hot neighbor,” she chuckles while shaking her head. “The blue-haired chick that lives across the hall from you in 2A? That’s Ellis, my roommate. We live right across the hall from each other, Pax.”
Once we’re in the open space between our two apartments, I flash her a quick smile and say, “Have a good night, Just Cole.”
She doesn’t pull out any keys, turning the doorknob of her own apartment, slightly opening the door in front of her.
“G’night, Just Pax.”
Chapter Five
COLE
Closing the apartment door behind me, I sigh happily.
Looking up from the couch just a few feet away, Ellis cocks her eyebrow.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asks as she slides on the pink fuzzy slippers on the floor next to the couch. “Please tell me you went and tracked down the hot guy outside of your mom’s office!”
“I didn’t have to,” I start, dropping the bags of takeout on the kitchen table. “He came to me.”
The best and most accurate way to describe both Ellis and my friendship and our living arrangement would be to compare us to an old married couple. She has her spot on the black leather couch. It’s closest to the window so she can feel the warmth of the sun. If we don’t have company, she will sprawl out, taking up almost the entire length of the couch.
And I have my black leather massaging recliner. When we bought the set, I assumed that Ellis would end up taking the reclining chair. After all, she’s the one that’s on her feet, leaning over to wash and cut and color hair all day. If I’m not at Capparelli & Co. or working a private event, I’m sitting at a desk, in an overly cushioned office chair.
We never discussed our spots, they just kind of became “ours” over time. Even when I know Ellis isn’t here, I instinctively go to sit in the recliner now.
The only thing separating the living room from the dining room is the threshold dividing the carpeted area and the wooden floor. Our garden style apartment is tiny, but it was too good of a price to pass on when we were twenty-three.
We got lucky. With both the apartment and our jobs. Ellis tried to do the nine to five job thing accepting a position as a regional manager for a high-end department store right after graduation. After less than a year, Ellis kissed Corporate America goodbye for good. Instead, she worked six nights a week at Capparelli and Co. serving tables and bartending while taking cosmetology classes to get her license. Just like all the other stylists at the salon, Kat Lindsey made her rent her space, and supply her own product. It didn’t matter that Ellis was her daughter. If Ellis wanted a chair, she was going to have to work for it just like everyone else.
It took me a bit longer to realize I didn’t belong where I was heading. It was only last year I dropped out of medical school and took out a business loan to start Karaoke by Cole. It could have failed epically. I gave myself a year. If I wasn’t seeing profit within a year, I would put on my big girl pants, accept defeat and head back to school. By a stroke of dumb luck and some perfect timing, it all worked out though.
Before the end of the week, my business and my sister’s event planning business would officially merge becoming Kinley Cole’s Entertainment and Events. I need to hire three more people because I can’t keep up with requests with the two employees I already have. All day tomorrow will be spent setting up my personal office in the new storefront and setting up interviews for later in the week.
Even though Ellis is now booked out with clients months in advance and I have my own growing business, we have never once brought up moving out and finding a bigger place. We can afford it and we could both use more space. And our own washer and dryer, too. But the truth is, Apartment 2A is home.
“Are those my leggings?” I laugh, looking over to my roommate. The bright pink fabric looking awfully like the ones I’d picked up on sale last week.
“Yeah, I had to do laundry. I think everyone in the entire building was home today because there wasn’t a single washing machine open in the laundry room until almost three. I should have just gone to my parents’ for the day,” she huffs, taking the box labeled “Ellis” from the bag and one of the packages of plastic silverware that JoAnna must have thrown in with our food. “But anyway. I need to know more about this mystery guy.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I feign innocence, popping one of the fried rice balls into my mouth the second I plop into my chair. “Besides, you’re not going to use me as your excuse to get out of telling me exactly what’s going on with you and Tuck.”
Over the next twenty minutes, Ellis spills every little detail about how she and Tucker have been secretly hooking up for two weeks now. That sneaky wench has been leaving in the middle of the night and covertly slipping into his house when his five-year-old daughter is sleeping. I didn’t even realize she had been coming and going.
“We want to be sure,” she explains. “Before everyone, and especially Lola, finds out.”
“So, are you guys just hooking up, or is it more?” I ask with my dinner on my lap. The fried rice balls I had been craving all day are now getting cold, but it’s not every day your best friend tells you she’s sleeping with one of the guys you’ve all known since you were a teenager.
Although, in retrospect, that’s pretty much how it happens every damn time in our group of friends. Ellis’s cousin Hollis and Tucker’s brother Chase are together. My sister Kinley is married to Hollis’s twin brother Davis. And now, Ellis
and Tucker. And there’s the me and Travis thing. But no one would ever know about that.
“It’s more for me,” she answers without giving it any thought. “And I think it’s more for him, especially since we’re going out on an actual date on Wednesday night.”
“Shut up!” I exclaim, busting out laughing when she looks at me confused by my jolt of excitement. “I’m going on a date Wednesday night too.”
“Wait.” Her eyes grow wide as she wipes sauce from the corner of her mouth. “You’re what? With who? I knew it! Your turn to spill.”
“Soooo…the hot guy that moved in across the hall from us? Turns out he’s actually Mr. Perfection from earlier and Mr. Perfection is Pax Callaghan, the same guy my mom wanted me to invite to hang out with all of us.”
Ellis had seen Pax on Saturday morning on her way into work. I woke up to a “Hot Neighbor Alert” text, but I had yet to cross paths with him. Well, until I did so unknowingly this afternoon outside of my mom’s office.
“What?!” she shrieks. “I need every little detail, and don’t you leave anything out.”
Recapping the events of the day, I find myself getting giddy as I fill her in. By the time I tell her about how he was behind me at the gate, she is holding her empty fork in the air, sitting on the edge of the couch. I’m just about to tell her how he walked through the door as I was grabbing the mail when my phone text alert chimes from the arm of the chair.
Peeking over, I see “Paxton Callaghan” in bold at the top the text bubble.
“It’s him,” I tell her, reaching for my phone, scanning over the text he had sent moments before.
“Oh my God!” she squeals. “What did he say?”
Tossing her my phone, she reads out loud, “Hey pretty neighbor. I had fun on our little fate date today and I can’t wait for Wednesday. Have a great night, Just Cole.”
“Fate date?!” Ellis exclaims, raising her eyebrows. “Well, if that isn’t the cutest thing ever, I don’t know what it is. You better text him back, Nicole Joy. Right now.”
It really is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I need to be careful with this one. I can already feel myself slipping and sliding under his spell.
Chapter Six
PAX
I tried to brush it off when Tucker asked why I wanted to know more about Cole. My poorly attempted nonchalant questioning only earned me raised eyebrows and an invite for burgers tonight, no actual answers. All I wanted was a few date ideas, but I figured he either didn’t want to talk about it at work, or he wanted to feel me out before giving up anything. After hearing my mother talk about this small town and the fierce way everyone protects and takes care of each other, I assumed it was more of the latter.
Pulling up to the small cottage-looking house, I park my car behind his truck. I follow the chalk drawings of flowers and peace signs on the walkway to the open front door. Before I can decide whether I should yell something through the screen door, ring the doorbell, or knock, a little girl with blonde ringlets and a German Shepherd puppy stop mid-run in front of the door.
“Daddddddddd,” she yells. “There’s a man at the front door.”
Holding a wooden-handled grill spatula, Tucker walks up behind her, waving me inside.
“Hey, Pax,” he says as I step inside. “Come on in. I just started the grill.”
As soon as I step over the threshold into the house, the little girl runs off and the puppy is under my feet. His or her tail wags back and forth like I’m an old friend and not a new stranger coming into the house.
“She’s cute, but the worst guard dog ever,” Tucker laughs as I bend down to pet the brown and black puppy that is now sitting on my feet. “Come on, Meatball. Let’s go get Lo.”
At the mention of Tucker’s daughter, the puppy takes off, leading the way to the sliding door off the kitchen area. As we step onto the raised wooden deck that overlooks the yard, Meatball barrels down the stairs, taking a couple of laps on the fading green grass below.
“Lola named the dog,” he explained, not that I needed one. I had a cat I named “Blue” when I was little. I get it.
There’s no question a little girl lives here. From the wooden playset that houses two swings, a glider, a slide, and monkey bars to the matching clubhouse and the small little carport that houses two pink Power Wheels and a pedal bike, the only thing that could possibly not be for Lola is the shed that is painted to match the house.
“Man, this backyard is the stuff childhood dreams are made of,” I laugh, taking a can of New England IPA from Tucker.
“Yeah, to say she’s a little spoiled by everyone in our lives would be putting it mildly.” He cracks up, taking a sip of his own beer before yelling down into the yard, “Hey Lo, come on up and introduce yourself.”
While we were discussing her sweet yard set-up, Lola had been ferociously pumping her little legs back and forth on one of the small wooden bench style swings. Mid-air, she lets go of the metal swing chain, launching herself off the swing. Tucker winces as she tumbles to the ground. Standing up as fast as she jumped off, the little blonde brushes herself off and runs across the lawn and up the stairs leading to the deck. Meatball, who had been lying in the grass near the playset, follows her up the deck and plops down on the mat in front of the sliding door.
“Hello, my name is Lola Grace Merrimack,” Lola says assertively, sticking her hand out for me to take. “But you can call me Lo.”
Chuckling, I crouch down to her level and take her hand in mine.
“Hi, Lo. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Paxton Killian Callaghan,” I say. “But you can call me Pax.”
“Alright, Peanut, go in and wash up, please,” Tucker says when Lola has effectively shaken my hand. “The burgers will be ready in a couple minutes.”
Meatball’s ears perk up when Lola skips past her into the house, but she doesn’t make any effort to follow her.
“She’s cute, man,” I say once Lola’s inside.
“Don’t let her hear you say that. It’ll go right to her head. She already has me, my family, and the entire Capparelli family wrapped around her finger.” He laughs while flipping the burgers on the round charcoal grill. “So, Cole, huh?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, trying to play it off like I don’t want to know every little detail about the woman, even though I kind of do. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend or anything, right? She told me you guys are a tight little group and I don’t want to walk in on Sunday and have someone ready to punch me.”
“You’re safe. She’s single. Though, I can’t promise you that’ll stop the other guys from interrogating you,” he laughs as he starts pulling the burgers off the grill. “Honestly, I don’t really know Cole that well. Like, we hang out a lot because we have the same friends, but I don’t know much beyond face value. So, I called Ellis. Between you and me, she and I are kind of dating. I know she won’t say anything to anyone else, so you’ll have time to figure out what’s going on between you and Cole before everyone is all in your business, because believe me, they will be.”
Nervously chuckling, I nod in appreciation. “Thanks, man.”
“I don’t know how big you’re trying to go,” he continues. “But she’s super into Broadway and comic books. Like, obsessed. Ellis said there’s a place in Concord that does live screenings from the Met and other theaters throughout the country. According to her, something like that and dessert after would be ‘the best date ever’ for Cole.”
Pulling out my phone, I do a quick search for “The Met screenings in Concord,
NH.” The Capitol Center of the Arts pops up right away, and I turn my phone to Tucker.
“Yep. That’s it, man,” he says as he turns off and closes the grill and then picks up the tray of burgers.
As we walk into the house, I purchase two tickets to Wednesday night’s showing of Phantom of the Opera. Luckily, thanks to my older sister’s Gerard Butler obsession, I’d seen the movie adaptation a few times. Though I can’t say I’ve
ever taken a girl to see a Broadway show before, screening or otherwise.
Alyssa was never into doing anything together, just the two of us. It was always big group events. Even trying to do something on a whim just for the two of us, like catching a random Red Sox game on a Sunday, always led to, “Well, let’s see if so and so can come…”
Stopping myself, I mentally shake Alyssa out of my thoughts. Comparing Alyssa to Cole is like comparing a rotten apple to a perfect Georgia peach. Besides, who knows if this thing with Cole is going to amount to anything more than a few dates? We could spend Wednesday night together and decide we aren’t compatible at all.
“So, you and Ellis?” I ask, making sure to look around for Lola before asking. I obviously don’t know from firsthand experience, but I’ve seen from the sidelines how tricky it can be dating as a single parent.
Before answering me, he does a look around of his own. “Kind of?” he says, turning back to the fridge before pulling out a covered Tupperware bowl and all the condiments for the burgers. “I wouldn’t say that we’re a couple, but it’s more than just hooking up. I guess we’re trying to figure out exactly what we are on the down low before bringing other people into it. Only my brother, his girlfriend, Cole, and, now you know. Oh, and my mom, because she’s watching Lola for me tomorrow night so I can take Ellis out. Kind of funny how that worked out, huh?”
As if on cue, Lola skips into the room and sits down on one of the chairs at the round table in the eat-in kitchen. Pulling a small stack of paper plates from the wicker plate and silverware holder on the counter, Tucker places them on the counter before setting up a bun and the burger. Opening the bowl from the fridge, he scoops out a spoonful of fruit salad and places the burger and fruit in front of Lola. Hanging back just a bit, I wait until Tucker hands me a plate to get started on putting my burger together. After spending a few months at my sister’s house, I’ve learned family routines are so important, and I don’t want to mess with Tucker and Lola’s.