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“When is your reservation at Lake Park Bistro?”
“Why, you want to go?”
“Uh, no offense, but you’re not really my type.”
“Ha ha ha. Though maybe I’d be happier if you were. It was at eight o’clock. But I cancelled.”
“You
cancelled? ” Troy mumbled something about idiots under his breath. “Have you talked to her?”
“To Candy? No, to the boyfriend. Who looked freshly out of bed to me. And was definitely suspicious and hostile of unknown male carrying roses.”
“Oh.”
Justin laughed bitterly. “Yeah, oh.”
“How did she act last time you saw her?”
“Fine. Amazing. Except…I knew she was holding something back. Apparently it was a six-foot man.”
“This doesn’t—” In the background Dylan barked. “Hang on.”
“What’s with Dylan?”
“He thinks you should talk to her.”
“No,
you think I should talk to her. Because you and I are so used to being male doormats. I’m telling you, Troy, this is it. I’m not putting up with this push/pull female crap anymore. I’m writing our book, minding my own business.
Candy and her man-playground can go on ruining more lives all by themselves.”
“Justin, you can’t let—”
“Hey,
you got matched up with her, why don’t you get in line, too?”
“Shut up, you’re being an asshole.”
Justin sighed. “You’re right.”
“If it felt that good between you, if it felt that right, then it probably was.”
Justin made a sound of disgust. “You been talking to Mr.
Quigley?”
“Mr. who now?”
“Never
mind.”
“You know, every time you talked about Angie it was bad.
It was always bad, and quite honestly, dude, I couldn’t figure out what there was about this woman that had you so hooked.
With Candy, I got it. Right away. You clicked, you liked her, you respected her, you had fun together. Is this the first sign of something wrong?”
“No, not the first.”
“Then think about it. All the other stuff turned out to have a reasonable explanation, why not this? Maybe he’s a jealous ex, maybe he’s a friend playing some stupid joke, maybe he’s got the wrong house.”
Justin let his head drop back against the wall behind him, hating the hope that rose again that it was that Chuck guy who was so bad for her.
Rat-bastard hope. Always leading to disappointment. “Bob Rondell, remember him?”
“Yeah, Big Bob, what does he have to do with it?”
“He had this theory about women and chickens.”
“Oh, my God, I do not want to hear this. The guy is a complete maniac, Justin.”
“He said women find ways to keep us interested by sometimes giving us what we want and other times denying it, so we keep coming around.”
“I can see how that would fit Angie. But Candy?”
He was right. Again.
“And excuse me, but Bob is a deeply paranoid, lonely and bitter man who deep down I suspect hates women. Great choice for relationship advice, dude.”
Justin slid down to a squat. “Will you stop making sense?
You are really screwing up my righteous bad mood here.”
“Talk to her. See what she has to say.”
Justin made a loud noise of frustration, like a bear woken too early from hibernation. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. She’ll 202
probably call when she gets back. I left all those damn flowers over there.”
Troy chuckled. “Nice one.”
“Yeah, the boyfriend will probably tell her they’re from him.”
“Ouch.” Troy sucked in pained air. “Take it easy. Call again if you want company. We can watch a movie or something.
Order some pizza.”
“Sure, thanks.” Justin hung up, wincing at the pizza-and-movie reference and ambled into his living room, feeling as if he had weights dangling from his limbs and a boulder in his stomach. All of which doubled their drag when Candy’s car pulled into her driveway and he had to watch her pop out and rush eagerly to her door.
Hi, honey, I’m home.
Couldn’t wait to see her man? Though how she could make a date with Justin for Valentine’s Day while some other guy…
