by Hazel Kelly
I stepped into the shed and lifted the felt parcel hanging off the top of it. Then I unrolled it and examined the brushes inside. I used to take such good care of them, and I’d be lying if I said they didn’t call to me.
Because they did.
But at the same time, they didn’t seem real. Or maybe I just wasn’t ready to touch them for fear that I might lose myself under their spell like I used to so often. After all, there was a time when they made me feel like Harry Potter with his wand- unstoppable, optimistic, and full of untamable potential.
“It’s nice that you kept all this stuff,” I said.
“Of course,” she said. “Your art used to bring me so much joy I can’t even tell you.”
“Me too.”
“Your grandfather was an artist, you know?”
I nodded. “I remember you telling me.”
“Right then. Let’s get creative in the kitchen and gear up for the day ahead.”
“Sounds good,” I said, stepping back into the yard and closing the shed. It was such a confusing feeling to hear her belief in me.
Part of me wanted to forget about art- and for everyone else to forget what it once meant to me- and the other part wanted to dive back into the shed and not come out until I’d made a castle out of toilet paper rolls, painted it from top to bottom, and made stained glass windows for all the turrets.
I was following Helly in the house when I heard a car pull into the driveway.
“You expecting someone?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
She shook her head and her voice dropped to a whisper. “No. Go see who it is, and if it’s that lady from the church trying to raise funds so the priest can treat himself to new robes, tell her I’ve got whooping cough and that I’ll call her when I’m no longer contagious.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she said. “And I’ll go put the breakfast on.”
“Okay,” I said, heading around the corner.
“Laney,” Henry said, closing his car door. He was standing in his suit, looking far too dressed up to be in such a pokey town.
“Henry. What are you doing here?” I asked, forcing a smile.
“I had to make sure you were alright.”
I walked up to him and gave him a hug. “I’m fine.”
“You sounded weird last night.”
“I told you not to come.”
“You also tell me not to make you two pieces of toast when I bring you breakfast in bed, but you never seem to mean it. So I don’t know what to believe.”
“But your work-”
“Can wait,” he said. “For a few hours anyway.”
I gave him another hug and held him tight. How was it that he always seemed to do the right thing?
Except when it came to picking me.
Chapter 10: Connor
I was throwing a ball around the yard, trying to wear Sarge out so I could take him to work.
Not because I needed one more dog at the office, but because he ate half a slipper last night, and if his bowels went haywire later, I wanted to be there to lend a hand.
I’d just thrown the slobbery tennis ball for the hundredth time when I heard a man’s voice next door, followed by Laney’s.
Unfortunately, the tasteful bushes my parents and Helly had put between the properties forty years ago made it hard to see what was going on, and I couldn’t hear well enough to make out the conversation.
But I had to know if he was Mr. Sort of.
When Sarge brought the ball back, he turned around before I threw it again, and when it didn’t leave my hands, he turned around and looked at me like, “What are you stupid? I didn’t bring you that so you could sit on it?”
I walked back towards the tall bushes and held the ball out. His mouth watered as he stared at it. “Now’s your chance to get me back for the other day,” I said. “So be a good wingman, and don’t let me down.”
He was nearly cross eyed from fixating on the ball.
I reached it over the chain link fence that went halfway up the bushes and let go.
He took off just how I wanted him to.
I followed him down the hedgerow and around the corner into Helly’s driveway, feigning a slight jog despite the fact that I had no intention of hurrying once I arrived.
By the time I rounded the parked cars, Laney was already down on one knee, scratching him behind the ears and speaking to him at an elevated pitch.
The man in the suit stayed standing and was the first to see me coming.
“Sorry about that,” I lied. “I’m trying to wear him out, but obviously it’s my arm that’s been the first to go.”
Laney’s eyes flashed up at me, and there was something unsettled in them. But when she looked back at Sarge, her expression changed again.
She stood up when he broke away and ran to me. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I looked back and forth between them. “Connor,” I said, extending my hand to the suit.
“Henry,” he said, shaking my hand.
The guy obviously had no idea who I was. “I live next door,” I said, letting Sarge sniff him from the knees down while I sussed him out above the waist.
“Nice to meet you,” Henry said, trying not to get slobbered on.
“Not a dog lover?” I asked.
“He’s allergic,” Laney said.
“So how do you know Laney?” I asked, allowing Sarge to keep doing his thing.
“I’m her boyfriend.”
“Which one?” I asked.
The color drained from his face.
“That was a joke, man,” I said, slapping him on the back a little too hard. “Lighten up.”
“Aren’t you late for work or something?” Laney asked me in a pointed tone.
“Not at all,” I said. “But you’re so thoughtful to ask.”
She glared at me.
I tilted my head. “I think Henry might be, though. By the look of that suit.”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “Is there something wrong with my suit?”
“No,” I said. “Of course not. It’s just a nicer suit than anyone my age would wear around here.”
“Perhaps we’re not the same age,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
“Maybe that’s all it is,” I said. “How old are you?”
“Thirty six.”
“That must be it then,” I said. “What do you do, by the way? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“You must have somewhere to be,” Laney said, her cheeks turning red.
“I’m an accountant,” Henry said.
What the fuck was Laney doing with an accountant? She was raised by a crystal loving hippie for Christ’s sake?!
“What about you?” Henry asked.
“I’m a vet,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “A very friendly vet, I take it?”
I shrugged. “I try.”
“Oh my,” Helly said, coming around the corner. “I’m missing all the fun out here!”
“Grandma, this is Henry.”
Helly gave Henry a big hug. “So nice to finally meet you. Don’t you smell lovely?”
“And Connor was just leaving,” Laney said, crossing her arms.
“Oh no,” Helly said, turning to me. “Are you sure you can’t stay? I’ve made far too much breakfast, and I used your lovely tomatoes in the omelets.”
I smiled. “It’s nice of you to offer, Helly.”
“Too bad he can’t accept the invitation,” Laney said, her face twisted like a preteen who isn’t getting her way.
“Laney’s right,” I said. “I really shouldn’t stay, but I’d be a fool to say no. It’s been far too long since I enjoyed one of your brunches.”
Helly clapped her hands together. “Fantastic. Just give me a few minutes to set the table, and I’ll call you guys in when I’m ready.”
“Sounds good,” I said, noticing Helly and I were the only ones that seemed pleased as she skipped away.
He
nry angled his body towards Laney. “Any chance your folks are in town?”
“No,” Laney said, avoiding my eyes. “They’re traveling on business. As usual.”
“Shame,” Henry said. “I’m dying to meet them. Have you met them, Connor?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“A few times,” Laney interrupted. “But he and my dad don’t see eye to eye on politics so it always ends in an argument.”
What the fuck was she talking about?!
“Isn’t that right?” she asked, her eyes pleading with me.
“Yeah,” I said. “Her dad’s a real right wing nut job.”
Laney hung her neck forward like I hadn’t exactly aced the pop quiz.
“But her mom is definitely where she gets her good looks,” I added. “I mean, talk about a milf-”
“That’s enough, Connor,” Laney said.
“I’m starting to think we’ll just have to go visit them,” Henry said. “If they’re too busy to come to us.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “They love visitors.”
Henry let out the biggest sneeze I’ve ever heard. And right when I finally settled back into my startled skin, he did it two more times.
“Sorry, man,” I said, taking a step backwards. “I’ll get Sarge back inside and wash up for breakfast.”
“Good idea,” Laney said. “And if you can’t come back, we’ll understand.”
“Oh I wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
Laney put a hand on Henry’s square shoulder. “Why don’t you go ask Helly for an antihistamine, and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Sure,” he said, itching his eyes as he walked away.
I turned my back to them at the same time, but Laney poked me in the kidney as soon as I heard the front door close.
“What the hell, Connor?!”
I stopped in my tracks and faced her. “Excuse me?”
She put her hands on her hips and craned her neck forward. “Can you take a hint?”
“Can you tell me what the hell is going on here?”
“My boyfriend drove down to see me. That’s what’s going on here.”
“So this isn’t a joke?” I asked. “I was convinced I was dreaming this.”
“It’s not a dream. It’s my life, asshole.”
I fixed my eyes on her. “It’s not your life, Laney. It’s a charade.” I threw the tennis ball into my own backyard so Sarge would stop breathing on my hand and watched him just long enough to make sure he got around the corner okay. “And Henry seems like an okay guy- not good enough for you, obviously- but you already know that-”
Her lips fell apart.
“But I bet he’d rather be in a relationship with someone who’d be real with him over whatever hilarious performance you’re putting on-”
“It’s not hilarious.”
“No shit.”
“Look,” she said. “I don’t expect you to understand but-”
“What could possibly justify the fact that he thinks you have parents somewhere that might want to meet him?”
She pressed her palm to her cheek.
“He probably thinks the scars on your arm are from Bark in the Park-”
Her whole body drooped.
“Oh my god. Tell me you didn’t tell him you got bit by a dog.”
“Please don’t interfere.”
“Hey, you’re the one that started this joke,” I said, raising my hands. “I just threw in a few punch lines on cue.”
“It’s not a joke,” she said. “And I’m begging you to keep your mouth shut and not make this impossible for me.”
“He has no fucking clue who I am, does he?”
She shook her head.
“What the fuck, Laney? Did what we had mean nothing to you?”
“Of course it did, but-”
“Breakfast is ready!” Helly called from the front porch.
“Please,” she said. “I need to know you’re not going to throw me under the bus.”
I shook my head. “I’m not the guy that throws you under the bus, Laney. I’m the guy that lifts the bus off you after you jump in front of it. And frankly, I’m insulted by the fact that you haven’t figured that out.”
Chapter 11: Laney
The mischievous faced garden gnomes taunted me all the way back to the house, and by the time I sat down at the kitchen table, I wanted to die.
And strangle Connor, of course.
In just five minutes, he’d completely wiped away the guilt I felt over what I did to him and replaced it with frustrated rage.
I mean, it was cute when we hung out all the time when I was fourteen, but we were adults now, and I didn’t appreciate him appearing out of nowhere when I was at my most desperate.
It was like he was some kind of predator that could smell my blood right before it got spilled.
And it was ridiculous for him to ask why Henry didn’t know about him. As if the way to build solid relationships was to bring up the ex who popped my cherry, the ex who first made me feel like a woman, or the ex who made me believe I understood where Juliet was coming from when she stabbed herself with that happy dagger.
Ugh.
Not that I knew much about building solid relationships.
I’d only ever had one, really, and I blew it.
And apparently, it was still haunting me.
Meanwhile, my relationship with Henry was built on fabrications that resulted from my giving easy answers when I wasn’t in the mood to be honest or open up. But my fibs were never supposed to hurt anyone. They were supposed to do the opposite.
Yet there I was on pins and needles wondering if Connor was going to use this opportunity as spiteful payback. After all, it would be so easy for him to break Henry’s heart…
An hour before I intended to break it.
Fortunately, Henry seemed completely oblivious to the steam I could feel coming out of my ears, and Connor obviously thought he was at some kind of circus show because there’s no omelet so tasty that it warrants a face as smug as the one he was making.
“So how did you two meet?” Connor asked, helping himself to a second serving of hash browns.
“I met her in the diner where she works,” Henry answered between bites.
“How romantic,” Connor said. “And who asked who out?”
“I asked her,” Henry said. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”
“I live next door,” he said. “Laney and I went to high school together.”
“That’s putting it a bit mildly,” Helly said. “Don’t you thi-”
“Does anyone want more tea?” I interrupted.
“No thanks,” Connor said. “I’d rather save room for a few more hash browns. Helly, you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Yeah,” Henry said. “I have to agree. These are way better than the ones at the diner, don’t you think, babe?”
“Yeah,” I said, pushing mine around the plate.
“So how long have you guys been together then?” Connor asked.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who almost didn’t get invited to brunch,” I said.
“Do you like the tomatoes, Henry?” Connor asked. “I grew them in my garden.”
“Wow,” Henry said. “I can barely grow my own toenails, much less something worth eating.”
I forced a laugh that was so full of tension I was surprised no one offered me a laxative.
Then I started dominating the conversation with enough shit to clog every toilet in Glastonbury just to keep the two of them from speaking any more.
Finally, when everyone had cleaned their plates, Helly got up to do the dishes and Connor offered to help.
I thanked her again before excusing myself and Henry. Then I led him upstairs to my room and closed the door. I just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking around my room and then back at me. “You’re acting seriously weird.”
“I’m not o
kay,” I said. “I haven’t been okay since you met me.”
He laughed.
“I’m being serious.”
He furrowed his brow. “What’s going on,” he asked, sitting on the edge of my paisley print bedspread.
“We need to talk.”
“I kind of figured that out when you disappeared with a bunch of your stuff out of the blue yesterday.”
“Right.”
“Sit down,” he said, patting the bed beside him. “And calm down.”
I sat next to him and took a deep breath. He was so kind, so understanding. I never should’ve lied to him in the first place.
He probably would’ve loved me despite everything. But between my childhood and my being a waitress with no professional prospects, it seemed the least I could do was dip dye my past in some rose tinted paint.
I liked that he was so measured, so sturdy. I liked that he was older than me and thought my hysterics were cute, even though I didn’t think they were cute.
I’d practically developed an ulcer the week I went to meet his parents at their house in the Hamptons. Sure, I’d proven that I could convincingly play the part of his girlfriend, but it would always be a part.
And if Harrison Ford could tire of playing Indiana Jones, how could I expect to be happy playing Henry Hart’s other half forever?
“Talk to me,” he said, lifting my chin.
I stared into his dark eyes.
“There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
I sighed. Apparently, there were loads of things I couldn’t tell him, but none of them mattered now.
“Please, Laney. I have a lot of talents, but mind reading isn’t one of them.”
“I found the ring.”
His eyes grew wide.
“In your sock drawer.”
He swallowed.
“I can’t marry you, Henry.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“But you were going to,” I said.
He nodded. “Someday. When I thought we were both ready.”
“So why is there already an engagement ring in your sock drawer?”
“Besides the fact that I thought you wouldn’t find it?”
I nodded.
“Because I saw it and thought it was perfect for you. And it was on sale.”
