Gentleman Nine(2)

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Amber?”

“Completely.”

“I promise I’ll stay out of your hair. And by the end of December I’ll be gone.”

“We can touch base closer to October, but I’ll hold it for you, won’t book anyone for that time period.”

“Fantastic.” He paused. “Do you think Rory will be pissed?”

His question made me defensive. “I’m not even going to tell Rory. I don’t owe him any explanations. I haven’t been in touch with him in several weeks.”

My ex lived about a half-hour away and had custody of our golden retriever. With a fenced-in yard, his house was a better fit for an animal. So, I only really contacted him to check in on Bruiser from time to time.

He was quiet, then said, “I’m sure you don’t want to go into it right now, but I’m here if you ever need to talk about what happened between you and him.”

“Thank you, but nope…no need to talk about Rory. Onward and upward,” I said defensively.

No. I didn’t need to talk about how my boyfriend of nine years, the guy I’d given my virginity to, up and decided that we needed a break because he hadn’t sown his oats. He suggested we take some time to “explore other people.” He’d completely blindsided me.

“If we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to one another, but I don’t think either one of us is ready for marriage when we’ve never experienced being with anyone other than each other. Marriage is a vow you don’t break, Amber.”

Channing snapped me out of my recollection of Rory’s words.

It sounded like a train was approaching in the distance. “Alright. Well, thanks again, Walnut.”

Walnut. Now that was a nickname I hadn’t heard in years. He used to call me that because of my last name: Walton. Channing used to tease me, saying that I was a bit of a nut—a walnut.

The train got louder. He continued, “I’ll definitely have to eat you out when I get there.”

What did he just say?

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.”

He shouted, “I said I’ll have to take you out when I get there…as a thank you for letting me stay. Anyway…I’m just about to hop on the train. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Oh, mother of God.

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Take care, Amber.”

“You, too.”

***

The summer flew by faster than I was ready for. I couldn’t believe that in less than a month, Channing would be arriving in Boston.

I decided that it was time to replace the ratty sheets on the bed in the spare room.

My friend, Annabelle, accompanied me to Bed Bath & Beyond one afternoon. Annabelle was a clinical supervisor at the human services agency where we both worked. During the day, I assisted in a special education classroom and worked with a special needs adult a few nights a week to supplement my income.

The store was filled with university students and their parents who were infiltrating the city for move-in weekend. A feeling of nostalgia hit me upon the sight of all the college kids standing in the checkout line with their shower caddies and reading pillows. Ah, to be that age again.

Annabelle lifted a set of shrimp-colored sheets that were encased in plastic. “What about these?”

I shook my head. “Not masculine enough.”

She returned them to the shelf and picked up another. “What about these beige ones? Egyptian cotton?”

Taking a closer look, I said, “The thread count is too low.”

“You seem very invested in this choice.” She laughed. “Are you sure you’re not planning on spending some time rolling around beneath these sheets yourself?”

Hells no.

My cheeks felt hot as I explained, “Channing is the last guy I’d be frolicking around with under any sheets, believe me.”

She raised her brow. “Why is that? He’s single, isn’t he? And I really think you could benefit from a rebound.”

“I can think of a million reasons why nothing will be happening with Channing.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s see. One: Channing has slept with half of my friends back home. Two: he was Rory’s best friend for a while. Three: I look at him like a brother. Those are just a few of many reasons.”

“I can’t think of a better way to get back at Rory than to take up with his friend.”

“As much as I’d love to stick it to my ex, it won’t be via Channing Lord. There’s way too much history there.”

“Do you have a picture of this Channing?”

I proceeded to pull up his Facebook page on my phone, laughing to myself in anticipation of what she was going to say. Scrolling though some of his photos, I stopped at the one I knew would get the biggest reaction. Channing was wearing a gray beanie and a black, collared shirt. A little of his lustrous, brown hair was peeking out from under the hat. He was looking off to the side, showcasing his perfect profile. Just the right amount of chin scruff peppered his angular jaw. The photo was apparently taken during a brief modeling stint for some designer out in Chicago. Even though he wasn’t a model, he was literally recruited off the street and into a photographer’s loft for an impromptu shoot, according to the caption. That didn’t surprise me. Only Channing. I was apparently transfixed on this shot, because Annabelle had to swipe the phone from me in order to look at the photo.