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“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Stuart. You were a fascinating person, even back then. I was drawn to you because you weren’t like everyone else. I’ll admit that you had some quirky personality traits from the get-go, but we both know it was because of the stress your family put you through. It always seemed to me that no matter how old we were, your dad was putting pressure on you like I’d only ever seen in the adult world.”
“That much is true,” he said, nodding grimly.
“Well, I’m sure your therapist told you how unhealthy that kind of thing is. You managed to get through it without running away, turning into a serial killer, or harming yourself. In fact, I think you did pretty damn good.”
“I could have done better.”
“I took a psychology class or two in college and I know you did, too, Stuart. We both know that when things go terribly wrong, it’s because people don’t have the tools they need to deal with whatever is happening to them.”
“Got all the answers today, don’t you, Tiff?” he said with a note of resentment.
“I just want you to understand that we all make mistakes, Stuart.”
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have kept Walter and made him spend time with me. That was wrong. I was just feeling anxious and desperate.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I’m sure Walter will forgive you one day.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I don’t need to do stupid stuff like that anymore. Now I have you and Ryder for real friends.”
Ryder leaned over the bar and glared at him. “We ain’t friends, dude.”
Shooting Ryder an indulgent look, Stuart insisted pleasantly, “Yes you are. I can tell because you helped with my mother, and you haven’t killed me yet for talking to your Tiffany.”
Ryder’s face lit up. “You called her my Tiffany and not yours.”
“I understand now that Tiffany doesn’t like to be my kitten. She clearly likes to be your princess. I don’t care for princesses, so you can have her,” he said, as if it was of no consequence to him.
Ace chimed in, “That sounds kind of arrogant, as if you own her or something.”
Stuart crammed some chips into his mouth and began reading the bag. “That doesn’t make it any less true. Darkness says I get your room now that you’re moving in with your angel.”
“He does, does he?” Ace asked slowly. This was news to him.
Stewart grimaced. “Don’t say that. It’s redundant, like eating triple chocolate cake.”
Tiffany quickly explained, “Stuart has about a million food related rules. Rule number one is no redundancy in flavors. Rule number two is one food cannot touch other food on his plate. This includes sauces, which must be served on the side.”
Staring at the chip bag like it was the most fascinating reading material on the planet, Stuart held up one finger. “Stop. That is actually rule three.”
Tiffany shook her head. “Sorry, Stu, rule number two is that hot foods must be hot, not lukewarm, and cold foods need to be thoroughly chilled.”
At Ace’s side, Barbara said, “That should really be two rules.”
Slapping the chip bag down onto the table, Stuart gazed at her with heated interest. “And who might you be, my pretty?”
Ace pulled her back protectively. “She belongs to me.”
Stuart raised one eyebrow and glared at him. “Sounds kind of arrogant, if you as me.”
Ace leaned forward slightly and whispered, “She hates all things cat related.”
Picking his chip bag back up, Stuart mumbled distractedly, “I suppose you can keep her then.”
“Gee, thanks.”
~ Ace ~
Four months later, Ace found himself sitting on a stool in front of his favorite lady. He squeezed her hand in a show of support. “You’re doing really good, angel.”
