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He’s generous and a good coach and a good person, I think.
On the other end of the line, Carly starts a rant about how all of her friends turn into fan-girls around her brother. “... and I thought it was bad enough when he was all over the press… But now it’s like it’s even worse. Like, now that he’s not technicallyasfamous, he’s more approachable or something. I thought you were smarter. I thought you’d learned. The hard way.”
“I haven’t turned into a fan-girl,” I promise. “This is more than that. I think we’re—” I want to try to put it into words—how we’ve rekindled something real that never died, for either of us.
But Carly won’t let me. “He’s aflirt, Gemma. Not just with you. He does this with women because he’s full of himself and thinks that just ’cause he went pro, he’s God’s gift to the female population. But henevergets serious andyou—you’re serious. By nature, like it’s hardwired into you or something. You’ve been that way since we were little. Life’s one big joke to Parker, but that’s not the way you are… And I care about you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.Again.”
Oof.
Her statements penetrate the fuzzy, love-struck feeling that was starting to settle around me. “That hurts.”
“Yeah, but it’ll hurt more if you let this get out of control. Do I need to come up there and drag you back to the city? Because I will.”
“No, no. Don’t do that.” Queenie rolls to her side, and I stroke her belly. “I’m fine. Maybe I just need to get some space today, to try to process what happened.”
“Um, yeah… you think? Dude, you should definitely get some space.”
That might be sort of hard, since I can now hear him out in the kitchen.
I want to ask my best friend how I should handle the living situation, which is complicated, to say the least. But I’m not sure if I should tell her that Parker’s here.
I cast my eyes toward the door and wonder how I’m going to make it through breakfast without walking straight up to him for more of what we did last night. As I listen to him clang pots and pans around, I close my eyes.
A vision of just-woke-up Parker sparkles behind my eyelids. Tousled hair. Relaxed, sleepy smile.
“Okay, you’re hiding something big,” Carly quips.
“Er—me? No…” I pick at a hem in the quilt. “Fine. Maybe. What if I told you… he’s here…?”
“What, at the log cabin, with you? Wait… did you guys—”
“No! We didn't spend the night together, in the same bed. He’s in a different bedroom. He’s—” My nail scrapes the frayed thread. Maybe I shouldn’t tell her this.
But she’s my best friend and I need her help. “He’s sort of… staying here. Under the radar. Your parents don’t know, and he said he’s hoping it’ll stay that way.”
“He’s staying at the log cabin? Like, living there?”
“I think so. Temporarily. That’s what I understand of the situation, anyway.”
“First of all, what are you thinking? You’re the therapist, Gem. I shouldn’t have to tell you how much it can mess with a woman’s head to spend time alone with her ex. Anyone in your shoes would slip into old ways. Get out of there. Book yourself a hotel. Better yet, kick him out. He has a house. Or, trailer, or whatever. He should sleep there.”
“He can’t. It’s uninhabitable.”
“Hm?”
“He can’t sleep there. That’s what he said. Something to do with noise.”
“Yeah, I doubt that. It’s more likely that he uses the cabin whenever he wants, even though Dad would besomad. Which brings me to my second point: Dad’s always said he doesn’t want us to be spoiled. He wants us to make our own way, not mooch off him and mom, and the hard work they put into making what they have now. I can’t believe Parker’s using that place as his crash pad. I’m telling Dad.”
“No—wait. Not yet. Let me look into the trailer situation, first. I’ve been wanting to do that anyway.”
She heaves a sigh. “Fiiine. It’s not fair, though. I grew up, and he never did. I can’t believe he’s living at the cabin… probably eating cereal and watching cartoons all day. He’s a Man Child, is what he is.”
My stomach drops. The amusement park ride I was on last night is now plummeting toward earth.Did I kiss a Man Child last night?
A guy who’s technically nearing middle age, but still crashing at his parent’s vacation house?
I want to argue that Parker doesn’t eat cereal and watch cartoons all day, but… what do I know?
