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“Well, then. Sayless—”
“But that’s not what I want!” I growled over her, unable to control that small part somewhere deep inside of me that was aggravated by her resistance. “I wanna be friends. If you wanna know more about me, you have to be willing to be friends. Not just two people bumpin’ heads at a coffee shop across from their therapist’s office every once in a while.”
She rolled her eyes dismissively, mumbling, “I’m just so damn confused.”
“Then take some time. Give it a fewhours—days. Think it over. I ain’t tryna rush you.”
“I don’t want to take my time. I don’t want hours or days.”
Then it hit me. “Why?” Witherspoon’s eyes rolled out to the window again. “Could it be because you like me, too, in a way you don’t wanna go back to not knowing each other?”
“I’m not even on the same planet as you,” she murmured. Then her eyes met mine. “I don’t understand you at all. But I respect you and don’t want to be the reason you keep breaking your own rules.” It was Witherspoon’s turn to take a deep breath. She grabbed her coffee for a sip. After cleaning her lips with her tongue, she smiled. “Your letter was cute.”
Letter?
When I realized what she was referring to I chuckled. “Oh. That.”
“Yeah, that. The jailhouse letter. Did you write those?”
“A few.”
“To women?”
I shook my head, then sipped my tea. “Nah. To friends and family.”
“It was palpable, the reality you set in there. I felt your limitations from being away. You were separated from someone you had a connection to and couldn’t…” She shrugged. “Couldn’t tend to life. It was…sad.” Her forehead wrinkled.
I leaned into the table. “But then you were able to wake up out of the mental scenario I set?”
Witherspoon nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I was reminded of your mantra about the gift of health and liberty. That’s why I’m here.” She glanced down. “With a cold muffin.”
I couldn’t help my smile at that. “I’m sure it was that warm reality and you notreallywanting to kick my ass to the curb.”
“Oh, your ass definitely needs to be kicked somewhere.” She rolled her eyes and tore off a piece of the crumb portion of her muffin and ate it. “Besides, you can’t fuck anyway.”
Damn…
“Shit!” I laughed, not sure if I should be offended or not.
Witherspoon shrugged, empty expression holding tight. “Yeah. If we’re friends now, sharing is caring—honesty, that’s it. Sharing honestly: You can’t fuck, buddy.”
I dipped my chin. “True that. I appreciate the honesty.”
She nodded, as though accepting my gratitude. “Glad I can be of help.”
“Well…” My eyes stretched wide. “Any pointers?”
“Stop fucking.” The girl shrugged again. “I’m sure when you find your wife, you’ll be better at making love…or something. Anyway…”Damn… “About your house. Now that I’ve demonstrated friendship, tell me more about you.”
Shaking off my ego, I tried to remember where to start the explanation with her. “Yeah. About that. Speaking of complexities: It’s mine.”
“You said that on Sunday.”
“Right. Well, Frankie copped it for me when it hit the market while I was locked down. I knew I needed something spacious and official. Something in the cut. It was a great opportunity because vacant real estate in that sub-division is a rare gem. I had the dough, so we went for it.”
“But it’s in her name.”
I nodded. “Since I’ve gotten the quote-unquote job atRizzo’s Custom Homes, we’ve been in a rent-to-own agreement.”
