Can't Match This: A Friends To Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Xavier Neal

  To my surprise, Natalie offers me a warm hum. “I don’t know that that’s true.”

  “What?”

  She bounces her shoulders. “Going out with other women, other women you might’ve been compatible with wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. You got to see that there were other options and realize that the best option was the one right in front of you. Like you said, you needed to get out of your own way, and I think your twisted dating deal helped with that.”

  She’s right.

  Absolutely right.

  This woman is attractive, bright, understanding, and cooks.

  Hate to admit, but Lenny was onto something here.

  “Sorry you were caught up in it,” I apologize. “And sorry you brought all this food over for no reason…” My eyes give the groceries another glimpse. “I can write you a check to reimburse you for it. Or I can help you take it back out to your car. Or-”

  “I could make you and your girlfriend brunch?” She unexpectedly suggests.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. You could pay me to make the two of you a romantic brunch. I mean, I am a personal chef with her own successful catering company. It’s literally what I do for a living…though typically for athletes and actors and occasionally royalty.”

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “Athletes?”

  “Usually catering parties or banquets for them, but every once in awhile, I’ll get a weird request to come cook so they can impress a woman they wanna bang or apologize to the woman they are banging for banging someone else.”

  I smirk at her word choice.

  “It’d be nice to make dinner for a normal couple, well, normal relatively speaking.”

  “You don’t think that’d be…awkward?”

  “You mean more awkward than arriving to make a brunch for a half-naked hunk only to find out it was cancelled because he’s already in a relationship?”

  My cringing is proceeded by peering down at my bare chest.

  Fuck me. Have I really been having this long-ass conversation with this woman while practically wearing nothing?

  Why didn’t that hit me sooner?

  Why don’t I feel uncomfortable or self-conscious about it?

  Is this a good thing or bad thing?

  Did Lenny know this woman would be this easy for me to be around?

  Why is she this easy to be around?

  “Besides, if I’m being honest, I fucking love cooking in new kitchens. It’s my not so secret obsession. I love the thrill of the discovery.” She bites down onto her bottom lip in excitement. “My absolute favorite thing is when I’m wandering around and working in a new environment while RoboCop plays in the background on my tablet.”

  My mouth goes agape. “Are you fucking serious? RoboCop is your favorite movie, too?”

  “Of all time. Like if I have a kid, I wanna name him Alex or Murphy or Alex Murphy, not as a first and middle name, but as his hyphenated first name.”

  Holy shit, I’ve had similar conversations with Lenny about that!

  Is this woman for real? Is she an actual person or an actress my girlfriend hired to test me?

  That’s not something Lenny would do, is it? That requires a lot of extra thoughts and planning, not two things she does an over the top amount of.

  “The first RoboCop was incredible, however, the remake? Makes me violent just thinking about it.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Why did they find the need to ruin a classic? Why do they always find the need to ruin classics?”

  “I cannot tell you how many times I’ve gone on this exact tangent with Lenny.”

  Natalie begins unloading items from the sacks. “The woman you’re going to propose to?”

  My blush immediate. “Yes.”

  “What’s a better way to start the day of proposal than with an exotic spread of crêpes both sweet and savory made completely from scratch?” She inches over a bit to reach for another bag. “And instead of listening to my all-time favorite movie, I will listen to you tell me all about what I’m sure is an amazing woman considering the check you’re about to cut.”

  Chuckles creep up the back of my throat. “Are we talking an arm or a leg?”

  “Both.” Natalie’s body brushes mine. “Probably a testicle too.”

  This time we both laugh loudly.

  “I’m clearly interrupting,” Lenny’s voice says with hints of sadness caked to it.

  Our attention immediately soars to where she’s standing at the kitchen’s edge.

  Her attire isn’t what I was imagining it would be. Most of the interviews she’s gone to, I had to twist her arm into wearing something more professional, something I knew would impress who was going to hire or not hire her, yet the sleek, black business dress she has on now indicates all my lectures didn’t fall on deaf ears. They were just waiting for the right opportunity to be put to the best use.

  It’s about timing.

  Everything is about timing…

  And this is shitty fucking time.

  “Now this is the epitome of mega awkward,” Natalie mutters under her breath.

  “I should go.” My girlfriend doesn’t linger around for an explanation. She spins on her black high heels that I’m starting to wonder why I’ve never seen before and bolts for the front door.

  “Lenny wait!”

  Rushing out after her proves to be necessary. The speed at which she vanishes from the kitchen yet reappears at the doorway is alarming.

  We’ve been friends for most of our lives, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her move so fucking fast.

  Not even when her favorite taco truck is getting ready to pull out of its spot, and it’s clear we are too late to be customers.

  “Lenny wait!”

  “No,” she denies, opening the front door.

  “Come on, Lenny! It’s not what it looks like!”

  The words cause her to turn to face me though she continues to back up. “It’s always what it looks like because we’re not in a movie!”

  My mouth twitches to argue but isn’t granted the chance.

  “You don’t have to explain,” she states matter of factly. “I get it.”

  Bafflement burrows into my expression.

  Lenny opens her car door with a rough yank. “Between last night and saying I love you this morning…it was all too much, too fast.”

  “Wh-”

  “You probably weren’t expecting any of it and just didn’t know how to fucking say this was just something good to do until something better came along.”

  “Len-”

  “And I get it. I know Natalie’s a better pick, Gideon. I fucking picked her! Same hobbies! Same favorite movies! Same love of expensive food!”

  I’m not given room for a rebuttal.

  “You even deal with the same clients! You’re on similar career paths and even have a tendency to travel to the same places! She is clearly the better match here, so do yourself a favor and go back in there and finish whatever it is you were clearly,” her hand gestures towards my bare chest, “in the middle of. Or go for a second round, I guess.”

  “Len-”

  She shuts the door with her inside, cutting off the rest of her name.

  My instinct to run over and stand stubbornly behind her car clashes with the logical decision to stay where I am in the middle of my yard. Part of me wants to the make the giant dramatic stop of her vehicle. Scream. Shout. Demand she listen to what it is I have to say. However, the other part of me is convinced running around in my pajamas in broad daylight would be terrible for my image. For business. That that’s not the man who is tasked with convincing what could be the next Wayne Gretzky to let him be his agent.

  A familiar uncertainty crawls through my veins.

  Maybe I should just give her a minute to cool down?

  Maybe I should wait and see if she comes back?

  Maybe I should call her again and again until she gives me an actual moment to explain how wrong she is abo
ut everything?

  Like usual, Lenny makes the decision for the both of us. She backs out of the driveaway without offering me another glance.

  How the fuck did I go from having everything to wondering if I have anything at all in a matter of seconds?

  Chapter Twelve

  Lennox

  Got the dream job yet lost the dream guy.

  Sounds about right.

  Heaven fucking forbid the scales of goodness ever weigh too heavily to one side for me.

  The sniffling man in front of me snatches my thoughts back from their own private pity party.

  “It’s not that I don’t love my son,” Ronald states quietly.

  “Then what is it?!” His wife, Rhonda, snaps.

  “I don’t trust myself alone around him!”

  Knowing the importance of letting emotions explode in safe settings, I don’t advise him to calm down or lower his tone. I allow him the space to stretch out what it is he fears he can’t under his own roof.

  “What if I have…an episode?” His choice of phrasing regarding the harsher moments of his PTSD is one we’re all familiar with.

  I helped them come together to create a code for it.

  Something they could say without telling the whole world what was happening when they were in public.

  Something they could share in understanding without the negative stain that the abbreviation tends to lead to.

  “What if I’m holding our son…our barely three-month-old son and I just drop him?” Ronald’s eyes begin to water. “Or throw him? What if a flashback hits me right then, and I think he’s something he isn’t? What if I accidentally harm him the one time we’re alone together?”

  Her hands fly to her face as if uncertain what to say.

  I gingerly investigate, “Are the medications they prescribed not working?”

  He hesitates to nod. “They are but…” Ronald bobs his head back and forth. “What if they stop? What if-”

  “You cannot play the what if game,” I snip a little harsher than intended. “You cannot live a life constantly asking, ‘what if’. That’s not living. That’s spectating. That’s…observing. That’s missing the moments you left the military for because you were tired of missing.”

  Both people focus their stares on me.

  “I’m not saying I don’t understand your fears or your concerns.” My voice regains its compassion. “I’m not saying you’re in the wrong for having them. I’m simply reminding you that you cannot continue to lead a healthy, active, involved life if you let them cripple you again. Those fears kept you from initially dating, remember?”

  “And then you met me,” Rhonda interjects, hand landing on his forearm.

  His fingers lock with hers. “Your presence just silences everything else.”

  God, I hate them so hard right now.

  I sit up in my broken office chair and fidget with the closest object in reach. “You were worried she would never understand what it was you went through, that she would shun you once she realized you had a condition, yet she never did. She stayed by your side through all the appointments. Through all the paperwork. Through all these visits. Do you remember when you two came for pre-marital counseling the night before your wedding because you were afraid you’d have an episode in church?”

  Ronald slowly nods.

  “What did I tell you then?”

  “The same thing you’re telling me now.”

  My free hand tosses itself slightly into the air. “Take what you consider is a risk to bond with your son. Perhaps you build up to being left alone. Start with allowing Rhonda to take a long bath while you watch Rupert. Then maybe while she goes to the grocery store. Then maybe while she goes out with friends to dinner. Build up to the level you two want to be at, but don’t be ashamed that it may be a slower process. Don’t be ashamed that you may need to pace yourself and take it day by day. Can we try that? Can we try building towards the same end goal?”

  Ronald’s nodding is much quicker.

  I divert my stare to his wife. “Well?”

  “I would love that. Hell, just hearing the word bath sounds incredible.”

  My smile is instant. “I completely understand that.”

  Because it does. A nice long bubble bath, an Old Fashion, and Clueless rolling in the background sounds like the perfect weekend activity. Unfortunately, I will probably be settling for crying on my couch, taking shots of tequila out of the bottle, and yelling at the bitch that let Leo drown. There was enough room for both of them on that door. He should’ve lived! They should’ve lived! It should’ve been one more amazing love story to the roster of ‘90’s classics instead of the brutal burden that is to only be watched when I need a good, long, ugly bawl fest.

  The couple exchanges loving hand squeezes followed by sweet chaste kisses.

  Not cringing is so difficult I accidentally snap my crayon in half.

  It’s not that I don’t want others to be happy…

  Or in love.

  Or building a beautiful future.

  I’m not one of those people that really feels misery needs company but watching two people find peace after spending the previous day, evening, and night cycling through emotions like they were stretches of a Triathlon because my boyfriend…er…guy friend I made the mistake of admitting I was in love with, decided he wasn’t done searching for something better, is excruciatingly harder than it’s ever been before. But it’ll get easier once I give myself adequate time to…move forward.

  Which is what I need to do.

  Even if I have no clue how to do it.

  Thankfully, Ronald and Rhonda are my last clients of the day. I make the decision to ditch the normal lingering around I would do to go shopping for new office décor. While I wanted that to be something Gideon and I did together today since he is the king of sophistication and would love celebrating my new job by splurging, I’ll have to settle for doing it alone. Like many more things that are to come.

  Just as I throw my bag over my shoulder, there’s a knock on my office door.

  The visitor doesn’t wait for permission to enter.

  Gideon simply walks in, shuts the door behind, and states, “I’m here to talk.”

  “I’m not here to listen.”

  He winces at the venom spewed. “But that’s your job.”

  “Si, for the great men and women who have served this nation and the family members they need to come in with them for support.” My fingers tighten around the strap. “You are not one of those people.”

  “Correct, but I am a person in crisis,” he tempts. “And you would never just abandon someone who was clearly in need.”

  “Need of what, exactly?”

  “Relationship advice.”

  Fuck, one date with the woman who was practically built for him in some weird futuristic factory and they’re already in a relationship?!

  I grunt at the response. “I’m all out of it today, but I’ll give you the card of someone you can talk to.”

  “No,” Gideon argues. “I wanna talk to you about us.”

  “There is no us. You made that abundantly clear-”

  “No, you made that abundantly clear,” he bites and takes a step towards me. “You walked away from me. Not the other way around.”

  My bag hits the floor with a giant thud. “Are you fucking serious right now?” I advance in his direction. “You gave up on us long before I walked out that door! You have always had one foot in and apparently one foot out! You-”

  “Don’t fucking try to put this all on me, Lennox!” His use of my full name stops me in my tracks. “I am not the only one who couldn’t find the fucking courage to just do what the fuck it is I’ve wanted to do for most of my adult life! I am not the only one who had to hide behind some fucked up concordance in order to experience what it is I have wasted so much time dreaming about. And I damn sure am not the one who didn’t even take a minute to hear what the other person had to say when the time truly mattered!�
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