by Linda Seed
Amber looked at her for a while, then nodded slowly, her wineglass in her hand. “That part, I agree with. It makes sense. So, you need to tell him that. Just the way you told me.”
“I’ll sound crazy. I’ll sound like some kind of …”
“You don’t sound crazy to me. You sound like you need some time. If he can’t or won’t give you that, then that tells you something important about him, doesn’t it?”
Joy supposed it did. But knowing that important thing wouldn’t make it any less painful if it turned out to be true.
Nix was hurt, and that might have accounted for why he was acting like a dick.
He called Joy a couple of days after the failed proposal to talk about the lease. Which was the most dickish, least Nixish thing he could have done.
“I’ve finished the renovations on Otter Bluff, so I wondered if you can vacate the tiny house by the first.”
He was standing at the kitchen island at Otter Bluff holding onto his phone so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“I … you want to know when I can vacate.” Joy sounded vaguely stunned.
“Well, yes. I have to let Evan know when he can start renting Otter Bluff. Which really should be as soon as possible, because he’s losing income on it every day he has to wait. So …”
“Right. Of course.” Her tone had gone from hurt to cold. “You don’t have to wait until the first. I can be out in a couple of days.”
Nix squeezed his eyes closed. “Joy, you don’t have to—”
“No, no, of course. I don’t want Evan to lose income.”
“Look. I didn’t mean—”
“And you don’t have to worry,” she went on. “I’ll leave it in pristine condition.”
“I’m sure you will. That’s not—”
She hung up on him while he was still talking.
Joy had intended to have the talk with Nix that Amber had suggested. She really had. But it seemed now that the whole thing was moot.
When Nix had asked her to vacate the tiny house, he’d made his position clear.
Packing her things didn’t take long. The bulk of her time in the moving-out process involved cleaning the place from top to bottom as a matter of pride. She didn’t want him thinking she didn’t respect his house, and she didn’t want him to see any trace of her here once she was gone.
If he wanted her out, then she’d erase her presence so thoroughly it’d be as though she’d never been here.
With rubber gloves on her hands, she scrubbed the shower stall, the toilet, and the bathroom floor. She scoured the kitchen sink and polished the wood floors throughout the house. She vacuumed the upholstered furniture, cleaned the windows, and put fresh sheets on the bed. She even cleaned inside the oven, though she’d only used it sparingly.
Then she put her things in her car and took one last look around before heading out of town.
She was standing on the porch looking at Nix’s gorgeous plot of land when her cell phone rang.
The screen said it was Gina.
Joy was tempted not to answer the call in case it was another critique of her body weight.
But avoiding whatever Gina had to say didn’t seem like a good option, so she picked up the call.
“Hi, Gina. How are you today?” She tried to keep her voice bright.
“I’m very well, Joy. And you’re going to be, too, when you hear what I’ve been up to.”
It turned out, Gina had an offer for Joy’s book from a prominent publisher, with an advance that was modest by the standards of the publishing world but that was still more than Joy had anticipated.
“Oh. Gina, that’s … that’s really great. But I’m not going to lose weight, so if that’s a deal-breaker—”
“Joy, that was just a suggestion. And I still think it’s a good idea. But nothing like that even came up with the acquiring editor, so that’s fine. It’s your call.”
All of this was good news—the best news—and yet Joy still felt the sting of judgment at Gina’s words.
They talked a little while about the details of the contract, and by the time they hung up, Joy knew she should feel good about herself. She’d set out to turn this tiny-house adventure into a book deal, and she’d done it.
She’d achieved her goal. So why did she feel so lost?
With the tiny house cleaned out and Joy ready to go, she wondered what to do with Nix’s key. If they’d been on good terms, she’d have taken it to him—or she wouldn’t have to because they’d be living together—but they weren’t. Instead, she drove to Otter Bluff and put the key in the mailbox before getting onto Highway 1 and heading south toward Los Angeles.
Chapter 30
Nix had thought he’d have time to figure out what to do about Joy. He’d thought he could arrange his thoughts and then talk to her, smooth things over before she did anything crazy like leaving town.
When he saw his key in the mailbox at Otter Bluff, he knew he’d miscalculated.
He called her, and she didn’t pick up.
He texted her, and she didn’t respond.
Finally, he drove out to his place, thinking maybe she’d left a note there. All he found was his tiny house, spotless and gleaming, with no trace of Joy left.
He stood in the doorway looking around, frozen, unable to move or to figure out what to do next.
Should he chase her down? Hard when he didn’t even know where she’d gone. Should he just walk away? She’d turned down his proposal and she still hadn’t said she loved him. Maybe it was time to accept that she didn’t, and move on.
But he didn’t want to move on. He didn’t want to accept the defeat and rally. He didn’t want any of that.
He was angry that she’d left without talking to him, but he could see that she might be angry, too. He’d been an ass out there on the trail when she’d declined his proposal. He’d been an ass again on the phone when he’d asked when she could vacate the house.
When could she vacate? Thinking about it, he could hardly believe the size or scope of his idiocy. He’d been hurt, and so he’d been cold and heartless toward her.
And so, yeah, if she was mad, maybe there was a reason.
He went into the house, climbed into the loft, and stretched out on the perfectly made bed, staring up through the skylight to the bright blue beyond.
He’d let her go.
Not just that, he’d pushed her away.
All because his male ego was unable to fathom that she might not be ready for marriage.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Louise.
“She’s gone,” he said. “She’s just …” His voice broke. “She’s just fucking gone.”
“Oh shit,” she said. “Where are you?”
The good thing about real, true friends was that they would drop whatever they were doing and come running when your girlfriend packed up and absconded for parts unknown.
Louise was at the tiny house less than fifteen minutes later with a six-pack of beer.
“I don’t … I just …” Nix had both hands fisted in his hair, and he seemed to have lost the power of coherent speech. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
They were sitting in a couple of Adirondack chairs on the porch, the big sycamore swishing its branches overhead.
“Yeah. Not gonna say the whole ‘when can you vacate’ thing was your finest moment.”
“Okay. It wasn’t. I can admit that. But was that bad enough that it’s worth throwing away a whole relationship? I mean … it’s not like I cheated on her or something.”
“No, you just asked her how soon she could get her ass out of your house.” She pointed her beer bottle at him for emphasis.
“But … I didn’t mean she should leave town! I didn’t even … God. I didn’t even want her to leave the house. I just was upset and angry and hurt, and I acted like a fool.”
“No argument.”
“But I can’t tell her any of that if she won’t take my calls, can I? Or i
f I don’t even know where she is.”
Louise took a swig of her beer and gave Nix a side-eyed glance. “You know where she is.”
“No, I don’t! She didn’t tell me! She didn’t leave a note, or an address, or—”
“You know her best friend. Don’t tell me you can’t find her if you want to.”
“Oh.”
Nix hadn’t thought about that, but Louise was right. Once when Amber was visiting, Joy had texted him from Amber’s phone because her own had been out of battery power.
He had Amber’s number. And even if Amber wasn’t with Joy, she surely knew where she was and what she was planning.
Joy went to Amber’s place, because she didn’t know where else to go and because Amber had offered. The fact that it was more than two hundred miles away from Nix was a bonus.
“It’s so good to have you back home.” Amber gave Joy a good, hearty hug. “I missed you, you know.”
“I know. I missed you, too.” Joy stood just inside Amber’s front door with two suitcases at her feet, tired from the drive and heartsick over Nix.
“Let’s get your stuff into the guest bedroom, then we can get some dinner,” Amber said. “And if you want to talk—”
“I don’t. Not really. Maybe later.”
“Okay.” Amber gave Joy one more squeeze. “What do you want to eat? I can order a pizza.”
Nix thought about texting Amber, but he decided to call her instead. This type of thing seemed urgent enough to merit a real-time conversation.
He wasn’t sure whether she’d pick up—the whole sisterhood thing might prohibit it—then was pleased when she did.
It was the morning after Joy’s departure, and Nix had barely slept. He was back in the tiny house, and he’d thought that might help. But he could still feel Joy’s presence there. He could, even more acutely, feel her absence.
“Nix,” she said.
“Hi, Amber. Is Joy with you?” He endured a long silence, presumably while she considered the pros and cons of answering him.
“Look,” he said. “I just want to know if she’s okay. That’s all.”
“Yes, she’s with me. And she’s fine.”
“Good. That’s … good.” That wasn’t all he wanted to know, though, was it? He wanted to know if she was coming back. If she missed him. If she was angry or hurt. If she loved him.
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me talk to her,” he tried.
“No. She doesn’t want to.”
“I get that. I do. But I want to make things right, and I can’t do that if I can’t talk to her.”
“That’s a dilemma for you, all right.”
He wanted to reach through the phone and find Joy, pull her away from wherever she was hiding, and bring her to him, kiss her, apologize for every misstep, and make all of this stop. But right now, Amber had all the power.
“Did she tell you what happened?”
“Some of it. She said you proposed and when she didn’t jump into your arms, you acted like an asshole.”
He wanted to protest that her characterization was unfair, but it wasn’t.
“That’s … not entirely wrong.”
“Well, I admire that you’re big enough to admit it,” she said.
That gave him some hope. “Do you admire it enough that you’ll let me talk to her?”
“Not that much, no.”
So what could he do, then? Walk away? Forget he’d ever known her?
Impossible.
“Look. I just … I know you don’t owe me anything, but … am I wasting my time? If she doesn’t love me, then I can deal with that. It’s going to suck, but I’ll survive. But if she does, I don’t want to let this thing slip through my fingers. I need to try.”
“Nix …”
“Just let me know if I’m wasting my time. That’s all I’m asking.”
Amber was silent for a while, then she let out a puff of air. “You’re not entirely wasting your time, no.”
A surge of hope blossomed in his chest.
“That’s … great. That’s really great.”
“But you can’t force her to talk to you before she’s ready.”
“Okay. I get that.”
“She’s got issues, Nix. Some of them have to do with you, and some of them don’t. But she needs to deal with them in her own time.”
“That’s fair.” Still, he had to try. “Will you at least tell her that I called? I don’t want her to think I didn’t care enough to call.”
She sighed. “I’ll tell her.”
Joy had a lot of things to deal with now that she was back in Los Angeles.
She had to find a place to live—somewhere much less expensive than her condo had been. She needed to get her stuff from the storage unit in Cambria. And she had to actually write the book she’d signed a contract to write.
But first, before any of that, she had to do a certain amount of wallowing.
Every day while Amber went to work, Joy lay on the sofa in her pajamas, watching daytime TV and trying not to think.
She didn’t tell her mother that she was back in town, because talking to Delores certainly wouldn’t help anything.
Occasionally, she scanned online ads for apartments and even for jobs, since her career as an influencer wasn’t going to last forever—or even for much longer.
But mostly, she spent the wallowing time yearning for Nix.
She’d wanted to say yes when he proposed. God, she’d wanted that. But the fear was stronger than the wanting, and his reaction hadn’t helped things. Then, he’d basically told her to get out of his house.
He’d called her and texted her, and he’d called Amber, so he clearly felt some remorse for the way he’d acted. And that was fine. He was hurt—she got that. But what was the point in seeing him when she didn’t even know what she wanted? When she still didn’t even know who she was?
She needed space and time, that was all. But needing those things didn’t stop her from thinking about him. And she thought about him constantly. The sound of his voice, the feel of his skin. The way his hair felt when it was wrapped around her fingers.
She cried sometimes, but she tried not to do it when Amber was home. Amber would try to fix things, and if anything needed to be fixed, Joy had to be the one to do it.
She just didn’t quite know how.
Chapter 31
Nix knew he should return the ring, given everything that had happened. If Joy didn’t want it, he had no use for it. Having the money in his bank account made more sense than having the ring in his sock drawer.
But somehow, the irrationally optimistic part of him couldn’t seem to do it.
Just because she didn’t want it now didn’t mean she never would. Just because things were crap between them now didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to win her back.
He’d taken to carrying the thing around, even though he knew that was stupid. He had it in his jeans pocket as he showed Evan what he’d done to Otter Bluff.
“This is ceramic tile, and I’ve got a spare box of tiles in the garage in case you need to replace one due to breakage.” He pointed at the floor in the master bathroom as Evan looked on. “I considered porcelain, but it’s more expensive, and I wanted to stay under budget.”
“Looks good. I like the color.”
Nix nodded. “It’s a nice neutral, so it’ll work if you want to change the wall color someday.”
They went through the house room by room as Nix pointed out what he’d done, why he’d made the choices he had, and what Evan might need to know about each new feature.
Evan, who was two inches taller than Nix and forty pounds heavier, giving him the appearance of a man-shaped wall, looked around with his eyebrows raised. “It looks good, Nix. Damned good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m not. I’m just … Well, maybe I’m a little surprised.”
“Asshole,” Nix said mildly.
The last thing Nix had done was replace some of
the more well-worn furniture, so the place was ready for occupancy by vacationers or short-term residents. The property management company would be sending someone over later in the day to photograph the place for its website.
Nix had logged his hours working on the place, and Evan had paid him the rate they’d agreed on. Between that and the rent he’d gotten from Joy for the tiny house, Nix’s finances were more flush than they’d been in a long time.
“Thank you for doing this.” Evan extended his hand, and Nix shook it. “This worked out better than I could have hoped.”
“It was kind of fun,” Nix admitted.
“Then why do you look miserable?” Evan regarded him with a hint of a smile, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets.
“Just tired, I guess.”
“Tired, my ass. There’s something going on.”
Nix thought to deny it, but what for? It might even help to talk about it to someone who wasn’t Louise. Get a guy’s perspective.
“Well … that woman I told you about? Joy? I kind of broke up with her. Or she broke up with me. It’s hard to tell. Whoever did it, it really sucks.” He raked a hand through his hair. “To be honest, I’m kind of messed up about it.”
Evan smacked Nix on the shoulder with his hand. “Let’s go get a beer.”
“It’s nine a.m.”
“Oh, shit. Is it? Then let’s get breakfast. I’m starving.”
“So what happened?”
Evan and Nix had gotten settled in at a table at the Redwood Café, ceramic mugs of coffee in front of them.
Nix sighed, took a sip of his coffee, then took the ring out of his pocket and put it on the table between them in its small velvet box.
Evan put his hands up, palms out. “Hey, man. You know I like you and everything. But I always thought our relationship was more platonic.”
