Do You Take This Man (45)

“Well, I didn’t like it. I don’t think that makes me a bad guy. Are you seriously mad I told him to get his act together?”

No. Yes. I glanced at the door we’d just crashed through. I took a measured breath. “I’m not mad. I just don’t want you thinking you have to protect me or whatever.” I motioned between us. Him protecting me, or feeling like I needed protecting, was changing the rules. “That’s not what this is.”

“Noted,” he said, features tight. “Let me add it to your list of guidelines.”

“What does that mean?”

He stepped past me, opening the door into the main loft space. “No kissing after sex, no planning, no actual conversation. No telling guys who ignore your instructions and injure you they are in the wrong. Anything else?”

I huffed, ignoring the way he seemed to see everything I was tormented over. “I think we’re done here.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping into the hall. “Clearly.”





Chapter 24


Lear





I WIPED MY hands on a dish towel after packing leftovers into the fridge. The small kitchen always made me think of my aunt’s waffles on Saturday mornings. She gave us whipped cream and chocolate chips, stuff my mom never let me have, and said dessert should never be optional. I folded the dish towel how she used to, something I’d watched her do a thousand times in that kitchen, and glanced over my shoulder. Uncle Harold was snoring softly in his easy chair, the evening news playing loudly on the TV.

The phone buzzed in my pocket.


RJ: Hey.



I stared at the message, surprised. I’d seen her the day before at the wedding, of course, and she’d barely made eye contact with me. Luckily the photographer stayed out of her way, but she seemed to be making it a point to stay out of mine. Maybe I was staying out of her way, too. I ignored the message and shoved my phone in my pocket. I’d been so pissed on Friday night after she did a one-eighty on me. It was another example of why getting involved with her, with anyone, was a stupid idea. When they walked out, and they eventually walked out, it left you feeling helpless.

My phone buzzed again, and I sighed, telling myself to ignore it as I pulled it from my pocket and unlocked my screen.


RJ: Can we talk?

Lear: I’m in Sybel, helping my uncle.


RJ: I can call you when there’s a good time.



Uncle Harold would turn in soon, I knew, and he didn’t need me to help him into bed. He was pretty self reliant, getting annoyed with Penny or me when we overstepped while trying to help him. I was staying the night only because I’d promised to help him with the lawn the next morning.


RJ: I owe you an apology.



I was certain anyone watching me would have known how surprised I was to read those words.

I looked up to see Harold stirring in his chair. “I think I fell asleep,” he muttered, looking around.

“You still snore the same as ever,” I joked, walking into the living room.

He laughed, this belly laugh that brightened his entire face. “Too old to change now.”

“Hey, a friend is going to call—I might be out on the porch if you need me.”

He winked. “To call? Boy, you’re too old for me to care about you sneaking girlfriends up here. I didn’t much care when you were a teenager and I sure don’t give two figs now.”

I laughed. Looking back, I was probably not as stealthy as I thought I was. “Just a phone call and just a friend. I’m steering clear of girlfriends for a while.” Maybe forever. Sarah had come with me when my aunt Bette died, and I hated that she’d met my family, hugged my uncle Harold, and made me feel like she was always going to be part of things. I shrugged it off.

He waved a hand. “I’m going to bed, anyway. Have fun with your friend.” He stood, and I pushed my thumb down on my middle finger, cracking the knuckle and stopping myself from helping him up, which would piss him off. He creaked to his feet and pulled me in for a hug. “You’re a good boy, you know that, right?”

I nodded but said nothing, his question hitting me in the chest in an unexpected way. “Good night,” I said, voice rough before I managed to control it. “We’ll get a jump on the lawn in the morning.”

He patted me twice on the shoulder and shuffled down the hall to his bedroom. I heard his door click shut and wandered out onto the patio, where the cool breeze was rustling through the trees. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I ambled toward my car, looking up at the stars. I’d been in LA a long time, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t see the stars there, but not like this. The mountains made it feel like I was the only one in a valley, the only one looking up. I scrubbed a hand through my hair and prepared myself to talk to RJ.





Chapter 25


    RJ



I TOSSED MY phone on the empty passenger seat next to me and dropped my head to rest on the steering wheel. The plastic, cool from the air conditioner, felt good against my skin, which was dappled with light reflecting from the gas station’s glowing signs. When I woke up, I hadn’t expected my Sunday to go the way it had.

I’d played soccer with Eric and some of his friends in the morning like always, working up a sweat and getting to be aggressive without being called some sexist or racist term that showed me the true colors of yet another person around me. When I finished the game and grabbed my things from the sidelines, I had a series of missed texts from Britta, Kat, and Del, our token man and the perpetual graduate student in the group chat.