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Tuesday says, “What’s happening?”
I can’t answer that, so instead, I say, “Christine was in town and stopped by.” I move to where Christine stands and hold the door open with my back, so there’s no misunderstanding about what should be happening next—her leaving.
And then Christine adds, “Have we met before?”
I see it, the moment hope fills Tuesday’s eyes, and I hear the little gasp. “Have we?”
Like a pin to a balloon, Christine says, “Never mind. I wouldn’t be able to place a face if I tried.” She laughs at what I guess was supposed to be a joke. We don’t. “So I stopped trying years ago.”
I say, “I’ll call you a cab.”
Tuesday steps closer, her bare feet leaving the lightest trail of water. “There’s a snowstorm outside?”
Unsure of the question she’s asking, I look toward the windows that span the length of the living room. Snow has begun to collect in the corners, falling so heavily that it looks like a sheet of white floating outside the glass. Fuck.
I run my hand through my hair and look at Tuesday. Silently, our eyes speak to each other. Her nod is so minute, but the shake of my head isn’t. Is she really telling me to do this? What the fuck is happening?
Turning back to Christine, I begrudgingly ask, “Would you like to wait here until we can find you other accommodations?”
Her mouth opens and then closes again while the forehead that’s usually frozen cinches her brows together. “Really?”
With a loud sigh, Tuesday comes closer. “The weather’s awful, so you’re welcome to stay.”
To stay? That’s not the fucking offer I had on the table.
What universe did I teleport to?
How is the woman I’m in love with asking my former regular fuck to stay the night?
What madness is this?
I take Tuesday’s hand and turn to Christine. “Excuse us. We need to talk in private.”
Closing the bedroom behind me, I lead her into the bathroom just in case our voices carry. As soon as the door closes, I turn on the shower for soundproofing and then turn back, and she pops me in the bicep. “It’s a friggin’ snowstorm out there, Loch. We can’t just send her packing.”
I’m still lost on her train of thought. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Loch, you know I’m right.”
“Okay. Okay. I know you’re right, but what? We’re supposed to be roomies with her for the next three days?”
Her head tilts, her gaze lengthening toward the window. Even though the shade is drawn, the shadow of bad weather still haunts us. When she turns back, she says, “I hear what you’re saying. I’m not looking to feel uncomfortable in my home for days. It’s late, and the worst of the weather is expected tonight. She’ll stay the night, but then we’ll find her a hotel tomorrow.”
“So what do we do in the meantime? Play Monopoly?” I ask sarcastically.
I get poked in the chest. “I’m the one missing out, mister. You got yours, and now mine seems to be on permanent pause.”
“Loch?” Christine calls. “I need you.”
We freeze, and then both of us look at the door at the same time. Tuesday’s eyes bulge, and she mouths, “What the hell?” and then whispers, “Is she in our bedroom?”
I say, “Be right out,” loud enough for Christine to hear.
Tuesday wraps around me as if her life depends on it. “I made a mistake, babe. I don’t want her here. You need to take care of it.”
Okay, I shouldn’t laugh, but she’s fucking adorable. I rub her back and kiss her head. “I’ll take care of it.” I release her to leave the bathroom, cut through my bedroom, and head straight for Christine. “We need to . . .”
“I have another friend in the city who thought he’d be out of town. Turns out,” she says, grinning like she won the grand prize. “His flight was cancelled, too.” Grabbing her suitcase by the handle, she heads for the door. And I don’t stop her.
“That’s some luck.”
“Yeah.” She pulls open the door like piranhas nip at her heels.
I hold it open as she wheels her luggage through and starts for the elevator. “He’s sending his car.”
Standing in the doorway, I reply, “Fantastic.”
Then she stops and looks back. “I’ll miss you, Loch, but I’m also happy for you. She seems like a great girl. And so familiar.”
Oh shit. I’d almost forgotten she’d said that.
“You recognized Tuesday?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know if we’ve met. She kind of has a generic face.”
And just like that, I realize I’d made a mistake with her. I always claimed it was about sex, but even that wasn’t that good. Seconds pass, and she gets my disdain because even though I haven’t said another word, she starts to back away. “Have a good life. Maybe our paths will cross again one day.”
