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Wreaths for sale! One of the grandkids is selling wreaths to raise money for the school band. Every door could use a nice wreath! ~Cheryl Bridges posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app
Paul
Gideon was in a mood after leaving his ex’s house. Which was funny as I had thought he only had settings for chipper, perky, and sappy. Him all grumbly was alarming, like gum in a set of gears. Gideon was supposed to be the happy one. And I hadn’t realized how much I depended on that fact until he wasn’t. I put up with his one-word answers and fake smiles while we brought the table into my place. But when he stayed quiet before we could go to Cheryl’s for the couch, I took a quick turn out of the neighborhood.
“Where are we going?” Even in porcupine mode, Gideon was still cute, looking down at his ever-present plan folder, which even included a schedule for today.
“Coffee break.” For him, I even added a smile.
“You turned it down at Lori’s.” His eyes narrowed. He was in jeans so stiff they had to be new, a sweatshirt for the campus LGBTQIA group, and those same shoes that were only marginally suitable for the weather. No active snow, but there was still plenty on the ground. “Granted, her muffins require extra coffee to wash down, but we could have had some there.”
“So we could have.” Honestly, my reluctance to linger had had a lot to do with Gideon’s tense body language while we were there. And the muffins had looked like doorstops. But now, I had a better reason to slow the day down. “This new German bakery place recently opened between here and the downtown Evergreen shops. Best whoopie pies I’ve ever had and excellent coffee.”
Myself, I seldom sprang for coffee out. Jim Rivers and some of the crew had insisted I try this place, though, and now I was glad because it gave me a good excuse to distract Gideon from his funk.
“I don’t need cheering up.” He slumped in the passenger seat, lower lip coming out.
“Nope.” I knew better than to disagree. I started looking for a parking space. Typical December crowd, all the little stores filled with gift-hunters and weekend leisurely lunch goers. “You’re hangry like you’re always accusing me. This is self-defense. If the couch is as heavy as you say, I need you properly sugared and caffeinated.
“Well, okay.” He still had suspicious eyes. “But really, I’m all right.”
“Yep. And you’ll be better with food.” Two coffees and two whoopie pies later, we were both full of the oversize fluffy sandwich cookies with their trademark creamy filling—his pumpkin, mine chocolate—and he was decidedly happier.
“Maybe you were right,” he allowed as we walked back to the truck.
“Maybe you should listen to me more often.” Somehow it was easier to joke with him when he was coming back from being cranky. Weird, but I almost liked him better like this. Real. Less of a cardboard cutout of the perfect neighbor. And I was a little proud that my coffee idea had worked.
“Yeah. I was perhaps a teeny bit down.” He shrugged before shoving his hands in his pockets. “I love Lori and her house. And Simone and the kids. It’s only that sometimes…”
“It’s too much,” I supplied. “I feel that way at the human Jim’s place. Happy house, full of people. I’m always welcome, but I’m the boss, not family.”
“That’s it exactly.” He sighed as we climbed into the truck. “I’m always a little outside the core.”
“I know how that goes. Kids seem to love you though.”
“Yeah. They’re great.” His voice was back to wistful. Damn it. I shouldn’t have brought up the kids. “I’ll have to make their presents small enough to go on the plane. And something for Lori and Simone too. Still strange, thinking of them as moms now.”
“You and Lori…” I trailed off because that was undoubtedly another minefield of a topic. Better to get to Cheryl’s with him at least a little restored, so I shook my head and gave him a quick pat instead.
“No, no kids.” Gideon guessed my question anyway. “We talked about it, especially early on, but fertility was a factor and trying was hard. Hell, regular sex was hard, let alone on a schedule. So the issue faded, too difficult for us to discuss. But then she and Simone decided to try, using Simone’s eggs and Lori’s brother’s sperm. I offered, of course…” There was a world of hurt in that “of course.” My hand was still on his thigh, so I squeezed, wishing like hell I could make it better.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly as we turned back into our neighborhood, all the cheerful decorations countering the seriousness of the conversation.
“It’s fi—”
“No, it’s not,” I said sternly. I knew plenty about running from topics better shoved in a drawer and left alone, but something about Gideon’s brand of pretending wanted to break my heart.
“Okay. No, it’s not.” Frowning, he waved a hand in front of his face. “But it is what it is, and the kids are adorable. And they love me, like you said.”
We both got quiet as I backed into Cheryl’s driveway.
“Jim’s kids are all into the handheld devices,” I offered awkwardly, not sure how to end on anything other than a downer. “He told me what game to buy. Tiny cartridges. That might travel well.”
“That’s a great idea.” He beamed at me like I’d handed him another cookie.
“No problem,” I said gruffly.
“And thanks for the treat. I needed that.” He touched my coat sleeve, and I turned toward him, mouth already parting. My stomach quivered, whole body revved, and—
