Switchy

by Tymber Dalton

A lot worse. “Dad, look, I don’t want you two getting divorced over this.”

  “We won’t. Well, if we do, it won’t be over this. It’ll be over her being stubborn and not seeing reason. Between you and me, I have a feeling the doctor is going to be sitting us down for a talk when we get done with all the testing.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a suspicion. I called him and talked to him this morning for a few minutes, and told him everything that we’ve been going through without her sitting right there and interrupting and trying to put her spin on things. He said this is very common, for the patient to not see their problems. Or, they do see their problems, and for obvious reasons try to minimize them to their doctor because they don’t want the diagnosis. He’s on board with us trying to get an answer so we can get the right treatment sooner.”

  “Wait, where is she right now?”

  “I dropped her at a friend’s house on the way home. They’re supposed to go shopping and she’ll bring her home later.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to be home for dinner. I’m going to drop my car and ride with Mitchell and Brent.”

  “That’s fine. Say hi to them for me, if I don’t see them. I was planning on taking her out for dinner tonight anyway.”

  “After being with her all day?”

  “I figured neutral ground might be safest. I’ll take her someplace she likes and go over notes from today.”

  “That’s sneaky.”

  “I’ve learned a few tricks from her over the years. This will happen, one way or another.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie. Have a good day.”

  She stared at her phone after ending the call. Yes, growing up she’d frequently bumped heads with her mom, hadn’t always seen eye to eye with her, but she’d felt loved, if not a little smothered.

  Her mom had been the first to volunteer at their schools, Scouting, sports—whatever they did, she was there and involved.

  Em hadn’t planned on getting married and moving out, but after one fight too many, her boyfriend at the time had proposed, suggesting they move out while he went to school, and she’d stupidly said yes.

  At first, the freedom had been blissful. Ronnie was a nice guy and had a full scholarship to Ringling. Their apartment had been small, and she’d worked part-time jobs to make ends meet for them. Her going to school hadn’t been in the budget, but he was going to help her get through at least community college after he graduated.

  But then by the time he’d graduated, Em realized she wasn’t really in love with Ronnie. They’d married too young, sure. He wasn’t a bad guy. But as the fights grew more frequent, their time in bed together less frequent, and she found herself a job working for Mitchell and Brent, Em realized there had to be more in life.

  Mitchell and Brent had offered her a no-interest loan to go to MCC and get a two-year degree, taking classes she could use to help with their business. She’d long ago paid them back, and they’d been loyal to her, treated her well. More than just an employee or a friend, but as family. Like older brothers.

  She’d run into Ronnie at one of their estate sales three or four years ago. He had a wife and two kids, and they’d exchanged a few minutes of uncomfortably cordial small talk before parting ways with a smile and a hug. He’d gained about forty pounds and lost three quarters of his hair, but he seemed relaxed and happy, as did his wife.

  Em was genuinely happy for him, but she’d be lying if she didn’t feel a little bit jealous that he had his happy ending now, and all she had was a rental house, her parents had reversed the empty-nesting trend, and she was married to her job.

  I need more. I want more.

  She was forty-two. It was time to quit bouncing around and letting life push and shove her.

  Maybe “pretending” to be the girlfriend of two cute guys could lead to more than just elevating her mom’s blood pressure.

  She sure as hell wouldn’t mind if it did.

  * * * *

  Her parents were gone, and there were two cars, one of them Jarred’s, parked next door, when Mitchell and Brent showed up to pick Em up shortly after she arrived home.

  Brent looked over at the house next door. “Well? Ready for us to put them through the wringer?”

  He was shorter than Mitchell by about three inches, broad-shouldered and burly. At sixty-four, he still looked a lot like the Marine he’d spent twenty years being.

  She hooked arms with them and headed next door. “Please, be gentle with them, guys. They’re very sweet.”

  “We make no promises,” Mitchell teased. “You know that. They have to be good enough for our girl.”

  The front door was open, but the screen door was closed. “Hello?” she called out.

  Jarred’s head appeared from around the corner. “Hey! Come on in.”

  “I’m going out to dinner with Mitchell and Brent and wanted to bring them by to introduce you. And I thought they could take a look at that stuff and make sure I wasn’t off-target with my appraisals.”

  Jarred walked over and shook with them, Garrison joining them for the introductions. “No more self-inflicted carpet injuries, I hope?” she asked.

  Jarred, who wore jeans today, shook his head. “I’ve been good. I swear. I got the master bath cleaned out and cleaned up, emptied the stuff out of the master bedroom, and now I’m tackling one of the guest rooms.”

  “Oh, hey, new fridge,” she noted. The stainless steel fridge sat in the middle of the dining room, on a bare section of concrete, and was plugged into a wall outlet there.

  Garrison turned. “Yeah, stove is out in the garage for now. That’ll be my project this weekend, going through all of that while he gets to work.”

  “I don’t mind coming over and helping.”

  “That’d be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

  They chatted for a few minutes, the men showing Brent and Mitchell the items in question and a few more that Jarred had discovered that day. Mitchell and Brent agreed with Em’s initial assessment, that they’d be safe to get rid of it, if they wanted, without worrying about giving away something valuable.

  After another few minutes of talking, they said good-bye and headed back to where Brent and Mitchell had parked in the driveway behind Em’s car.

  “I like them,” Mitchell said as he opened the back door for her. “They seem nice.”

  “Me, too,” Brent said. “And you know I’m a harder sell than he is.”

  “What do they do for a living?” Mitchell asked again.

  “Jarred is a CNA, and Garrison teaches history at the community college.”

  “They’re gainfully employed,” Brent said. “Another plus. Anything you need from us to put your evil plan together?” He cast a glance back over the seat at her and she spotted his playful smile.

  “Might need a little backup in terms of the story. I’ll let you know.”

  “What if your dad gets your mom moved out in the next couple of weeks?” Mitchell asked. “You going to give up your imaginary boyfriends?”

  “I guess that depends on them.”

  “What are you hoping?” Brent asked.

  She didn’t want to think about that. “I plead the fifth.”

  Chapter Ten

  Em’s side bedroom window looked out on Jarred and Garrison’s house next door. So she saw when Garrison arrived a little after seven thirty that morning.

  Unlike her usual Saturday routine of sleeping in as late as her mom would let her before she started banging around out in the house in a passive-aggressive way of waking Em up, Em was out of bed and dressed and ready.

  She’d even sneaked out to the kitchen, got her coffee, and retreated to her bedroom before her mom had emerged. That had given Em time to check her e-mail in peace before she re-emerged to grab some food.

  Em was toasting a bagel when her mom appeared in the kitchen. “I didn’t think you had to work today.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Th
en why are you up so early?”

  “I’m going next door to help Garrison.”

  Her mom frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I want to. Why?” Em stared at her phone, scrolling through a few new e-mails and deliberately trying not to let her mom drag her into this battle.

  She could sense the tension building in her mother. “But…why?”

  Em finally looked at her. “Why what?”

  “You don’t even know them.”

  “I sure do. I was at their place for dinner. They’re very nice guys. Why?”

  “But…how long will you be over there?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  This was something Brent had suggested. Instead of fighting her mom, let her keep asking questions, but come back with, “Why?”

  It would force her mom to formulate answers to wanting the knowledge, or make her back off.

  Either way might be a win, in Em’s book. If her mom couldn’t adequately answer the question and was finally forced to examine her behavior, it was a win.

  If her mom backed off, it was still a win.

  Her father arrived. “Oh, good. There you are, Francis. Don’t forget we’re going to go look at six places today.”

  “I told you, I don’t want to. I’m not going.”

  “If I have to drag you out to the car in your bathrobe, you are going. We’ve talked about this.”

  Em watched as her mother’s ire shifted and homed in on her father. She jabbed a finger at him. “I told you, we’re not moving!”

  “And I told you, we are, because when I move, your stuff is coming, too. So either you sleep on the front porch, or you come with me. I’m not leaving your stuff here. We are done imposing on our daughter.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Watch me. Now, are you going with me dressed like that, or are you going to get dressed? Because once we’re done looking at places, we’re going to go to lunch and then to Mote Marine. Don’t think I won’t parade you around in your nightgown, because I will.”

  Em quietly observed the exchange. Finally, in a huff, her mom stormed out of the kitchen.

  Predictably, her parents’ bedroom door slammed shut a moment later.

  Em held her hand up for a high-five from her father and he gave her one.

  “Have fun next door, honey,” he said.

  “You heard that?”

  “Yep, and can’t say as I blame you. If it wasn’t for this with your mom, I’d be there offering to help. I want to pick out a new place while I still have momentum and the upper hand.”

  “What if she refuses to do this?”

  He smiled. “I talked to a lawyer yesterday while she was with her friend,” he said, dropping his voice. “The money from the sale of the house went into a joint account. We paid capital gains taxes as a couple. It’s now joint equity since it’s been a couple of years. If I write a check for our new place out of that account, she really can’t stop me. Especially if it’s for a joint purchase.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m done playing games.”

  She hugged him. “I hope this works.”

  “You and me both, sweetheart.”

  * * * *

  Garrison would have been lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Em again. He hadn’t gotten to spend as much time with her as Jarred, but just from dinner the other night, he was…intrigued.

  Definitely too early to declare undying love, obviously. But she had a funny sense of humor, she was open-minded, and they had a lot in common.

  Even better, she’d made Jarred smile in a way Garrison had slowly been coming to think he’d never see on his partner’s face again.

  Hell, he felt like smiling again.

  That was a frigging miracle.

  He did want to get the rest of the carpet pulled up this weekend, though. Jarred might think he was invincible—a thigh full of staples and stitches notwithstanding—but Garrison knew the truth. The guy would work himself to death if Garrison didn’t keep an eye on him.

  It was a coping mechanism he knew all too well. Unfortunately, his job didn’t allow him to get out of his head the way Jarred’s did. Jarred might have reminders of Janis around because of the medical situation, but he could focus on his patients.

  Sure, teaching a class about the Civil War or about Revolutionary War battles allowed him a brief distraction, but sitting there in his office and trying to grade papers was another matter entirely.

  Not exactly an easy thing to muster, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand and not on the gaping loss in his heart and soul. Or his worry about Jarred and how he wasn’t processing their loss well at all.

  Especially when the man took Janis’ death so personally even after Janis herself had told him not to. The doctors, the patient—everyone, even Tilly, had tried to redirect his thinking.

  Unfortunately, guilt had entrenched itself deep inside him and wouldn’t let go. Isolating themselves from their friends had been a mistake, and Garrison knew it, but his first loyalty was to his partner. He’d hoped to draw Jarred out before now.

  Maybe Em was the medicine they both needed, even if only as friends.

  He’d already managed to get a few more strips of carpet and padding pulled up from the living room when he heard a knock on the screen door.

  He sat up and waved Em in. She wore shorts, sneakers, and a tank top, and had her hair pulled back in a short ponytail. As she walked over, he looked up at her and wondered what it’d feel like to have her hand running through his hair.

  His cock thought that was a magnificent idea.

  Down, boy. “Hey.”

  She smiled, her blue eyes pulling him in. “Hey. So, put me to work. What can I do to help?”

  He knew asking her to just sit there and watch him work wasn’t in the cards. She wouldn’t get it, and frankly, the sooner they got the house in order and ready to move in, the sooner they’d be living next door to her and be able to spend time with her.

  “I bought a bunch of empty boxes and packing tape and stuff. If you wanted to start emptying the kitchen cabinets, that’d be great.”

  “No problem. Anything you want to look at in particular?”

  “If you see anything that might be old or worth something, sure. But Jarred’s going to want to get the cabinets ripped out next week so we can plan the new kitchen.”

  He’d almost finished pulling up the carpet and padding and tack strips in the living room by the time she’d finished doing that, and had stacked everything in a neat pile of boxes in the corner of the dining room. She helped him finish removing the carpet and padding in the living room and hallway, and then they got started on one of the guest bedrooms, moving the furniture around until they had that room finished, too.

  “Lunch?” she asked. “My treat.”

  “Um, no, my treat,” he insisted. “You’re the one over here helping me.”

  “Yeah, but it’s kind of a vacation for me.” She offered him a smile he wished he could freeze and save forever. “This is fun.”

  “I don’t think you know what that word means. Go lock your house and let’s go. Seriously, I’m buying.”

  “Okay.” She returned a few minutes later with her purse.

  He managed to beat her to his car and held the passenger door open for her, which she met with a grin.

  “Why, thank you, sir.”

  “You’re very welcome, ma’am.” He closed the door once she was inside, a wistful pang twisting his heart.

  If only.

  * * * *

  Em had kept her phone set to vibrate all morning, but nothing from her mom, which wasn’t surprising. Despite her mom having a cell phone, she steadfastly refused to use it.

  Which, in some cases, was a blessing.

  Em checked in with her dad a couple of times via text to make sure he was okay, and that her mom hadn’t ditched him and left him standing on the side of a road somewhere.

  Garrison drove them to a smal
l sandwich shop Em had never eaten at before, even though she passed it several times a week. Once they had their food and were seated at a table, Garrison offered her a smile that threatened to dampen her panties.

  “So did we pass inspection with your friends last night?”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “We thought it was sweet. It’s good to have friends who have your back like that.”

  “They seemed to like you guys.”

  “Did you tell them about the plan?”

  “It appealed to their devious sides. They offered help and to give us alibis, if required.”

  “They are good friends.”

  “They’ve been there for me for…well, over twenty years now. They treat me like family. I’m not just an employee. They encouraged me to go to school, loaned me money so I could do it, took a chance on me. They had faith in me when I didn’t have much in myself. Especially after my divorce.”

  “How’d your mother take that?”

  “After the ‘see I told you sos’ were said? That pretty much sums it up. She assumed I’d be moving back in with them and had started planning my life for me.”

  “Wow.”

  “I’m torn between making sure that doesn’t sound horrible on her part or mine. I get it. She loves me and my brother and sister. I butted heads with her a lot. I think she and I are a lot alike in some ways, and not the good ways.”

  “What’d you do after your divorce?”

  “I moved into a friend’s place for a few months to save up money. They needed a roommate, and I needed a place to live. Then I got a tiny studio apartment and lived there for a couple of years while I went to school, until after I got Mitchell and Brent paid back. Then on to a larger apartment until I rented the house.”

  “Why didn’t you buy a house, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I did the math. Between insurance and taxes and upkeep and all of that, for now it was better for me to rent. I’ve been stashing money in my retirement account this whole time. I mean, yeah, now I could buy a house if I wanted. My credit’s fine. But my brother and sister and their spouses are struggling to ‘live the dream.’”