The Feel Good Factor(56)

But I can’t wallow in my worry. I have to care. Elias is my friend, and he wants this. He’s earned it. I should be thrilled for him. I slap on a smile. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”

I give him a quick hug.

“Aww, thanks, Keating. What about you?”

“What about me?” I ask, dropping into my cool-as-a-leather-jacket mode.

“Were you going for it?” he asks, sounding worried on my behalf. I can’t take a chance that his concern will morph into pity for me.

I wave a hand, admitting nothing. “Please. It went to the best man. I’ll see you later.”

Quickly, I race to my car, yank open the door, and slide inside. I jerk on the seat belt, my throat jamming with stupid emotion.

I swipe at my cheeks, erasing any evidence of sadness as I turn on the engine and pull away. I gulp back the idiotic tears as I drive. But they won’t listen to me. They keep threatening to spill free. I turn the corner and pull over at the sidewalk. I do something I can only do when I’m finished at work.

I cry.

And I hate myself for it.

I should be happy for Elias and his family, but I’m selfishly sad for myself.

I shouldn’t care this much.

But I feel like I failed.

Like maybe I didn’t deserve it in the first place.

Maybe I was focused on the wrong things.

I blink back my tears and stare at the dashboard.

I should go find my girls, drown my sorrows in a glass of wine the size of my head, throw darts at a board, and then drink some more.

But I don’t call them because for the first time in forever, they aren’t the ones I want to turn to.

Derek is.

I want to find him, tell him, ask him to wrap his strong arms around me. Feel him smooth my hair, kiss my forehead, and say, Don’t worry, kitten, you’ll get the next one.

I want him to kiss away my sadness, to hold me close, to let me know he’s there for me even if the job isn’t.

Gulping, I look in the rearview mirror at the sad, unexpected truth reflected in my eyes. I want all that because I’ve fallen in love with my housemate.

I’m head over heels for the man.

But what if he’s the reason I didn’t get the gig? What if love made me lose my edge?

What if I took my eyes off the prize?

The questions stab at my brain as I head back on the road and drive home. By the time I reach my house, I’ve arrived at several new conclusions.

Falling in love distracted me.

And falling in love was indescribably dumb.

Derek made it crystal clear from the start that he’s not interested in a relationship.

That’s why there’s only one thing to do.





31





Derek





I don’t always remove marbles from noses, but when I do, I’m awesome at it. “Stay still. I’ve got it.”

Thanks to forceps fixed firmly in place, the small blue marble slips out easily from the tyke’s nose and into my waiting palm.

“Oh, thank God,” the mother says, relief flowing off her in waves. “You’re a lifesaver.”

She turns to the three-year-old with the predilection for testing his nasal cavity. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Oliver.” She grabs her son and tugs him in for a crushing hug, the kind that won’t end for days.

“I won’t, Mommy.”

“He’s going to be just fine,” I tell the worried woman, who called mere minutes ago.

“You’re a godsend. How can I thank you?”

“No need to thank us. It’s our job, and we’re happy to do it.”

She extends a hand. “I’m Claire. I work in events at the Windemere Inn. If I can ever do anything, let me know.”

Something about the name of her workplace tugs at my memory, but I can’t quite place it.

“Derek,” I say, then introduce Hunter. “And don’t worry. We are all good.”

Hunter offers her the marble. “Want to keep it as a memento?”

Claire laughs as she hugs her son closer. “No, I want him to never play with marbles again.”

“I won’t play with them, Mommy.”

“Take care, and hopefully you won’t need us again, but you know where to find us if you do,” I say.

We head down the stairs of the apartment building. “If only all our calls were that easy.”

Hunter drums his fingers against the banister. “But I’ll take easy when it comes our way. And it’s been an easy day.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Today is just one of those fantastically good days.”

As we reach the van, he shoots me a curious stare. “I’m not sure I’m buying that marbles are the reason for your happy mood.”

I yank open the door. “Why not?”

He scratches his jaw. “Call me Sherlock, but I think you might be one happy camper thanks to a certain lady cop.”

I smile as I get into the passenger side.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he turns to me, pressing the issue. “You two were putting on quite a show at bowling the other night.”

“Glad you enjoyed our special performance. Be sure to tune in again every night.”