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“What?”
“That’s what I called it,” he said, staring as I sucked on my cheek and covered my mouth. “Don’t. Don’t even think about it,” He glared at me as I lowered my hand. “I swear, Kent. If you—”
I cackled so loud, I was sure my mother must have heard it three miles away. He sulked, and then he picked up a box of macaroni and threw it at me. My dodging skills left much to be desired, as I somehow shifted directly into its path. It connected with the center of my forehead, and I let out a yelp.
“I hate you. I really, really hate you.”
Gray leaned against the shelf behind him. “I’m sorry for firing you yesterday.”
“I’m sorry Rhonda bullied you into hiring me back.”
He groaned. “She’s a tyrant. She’s great, though, isn’t she?”
“I adore her. She doesn’t really fit in though, does she? Like, she’s kind of out there by West Clark standards. We were talking when she was training me, and I’m pretty sure she’s a liberal, dude. Said she worked at Planned Parenthood before moving here. How did she even manage to climb the corporate ladder without a citywide revolt?”
“We’re not that bad,” he said, his voice growing colder. “You make us sound like a cult. You always did. I hated that.” He was getting frustrated. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have welcomed it. I would have reveled in it, even. But he was being nice to me now. Hell, he almost felt like my Two-liter again. “She just showed up one day and gave herself the job. Came in and said,‘My name is Rhonda Macknemera, and I’m your new operations manager.’”
“And it worked?”
“Would you want to tell her no?”
I shuddered at the thought.
“Exactly. Then she just barged into my office and started redecorating. Threw out all of my stuff. I had to beg her just to let me keep my bonsai tree andourpicture—” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Dang.”
“Our picture?” He was right to stop himself because those words weren’t even remotely accurate. Not anymore. I looked up at him, but his eyes were still glued to the floor. “You erased me.” I hated myself for letting the moment get to me. For letting him see me crack.
That was my life. I was a part of it. The boy that couldn’t be seen in that photo anymore was his Half-pint. That beautiful beagle in Mrs. Collins’ arms was named Abraham, Abe for short. The day in question was, up to that point, the worst day of my life. We’d buried my grandmother four hours earlier. That was my life. That was my moment. And God dammit, that was my dog. The dog he’d convinced his mom to get me because he knew I was hurting. He knew I was hurt, and he wanted to fix me. That’s what he told me right before the camera flashed. What you couldn’t see in the photo, in its current state, was my expression. Tears were pouring down my cheeks, there were big, bright eyes that stared directly at the man now sitting in front of me, and there was so much goddamn love pouring out, you’d have to be a fool not to see it.
“You just cut me out like I was nothing.”
“What did you expect?” His words weren’t harsh. There wasn’t a trace of bitterness in them. The worst part was, I understood his predicament. God knew my escape wasn’t born of my own courage. I’d never had much of that, to begin with. Leaving the church, coming out to my parents, being exiled from West Clark: life journeys that were forced on me, not forged by me. Gray didn’t have that. He never got that gasoline-soaked push. “What did you expect me to do, Kent?”
He could have fought for me. For us.
But that wasn’t an argument I was ready to have. Not at the Pick-n-Save, of all places. So, instead, I smiled. I sparkled. I slapped my hands against my thighs and stood, glancing down at the macaroni. “I’ll pick these up. You go ahead and do whatever they’re paying you for.” I looked him up and down. “Honestly, what are they paying you for? I swear, all I’ve seen you do so far is shoot the shit with the employees and sit in that depressing little excuse of an office.”
“I do a lot of things,” he said, rather proudly. “I make the schedules, I handle the administrative side, I …”
“You …?”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “I do a lot of delegating.”
“Of course.” I leaned over, picking up the discarded boxes of mac and cheese. “A strong leader has to learn to delegate. Can I tell you a secret? I used to delegate a lot, too.” I reached down, tugging at the tail of my smock. “Might want to rethink your leadership methods,Two-liter. Lest you wish to move back home with your mother and work for an absolute dictator.”
His jaw went slack for a moment, but then his hanging mouth formed a smile. The biggest one I’d seen in twenty years. “Okay,” he said, crossing his arms against his chest. “Half-pinthas jokes.”
I glared at him. “You know, when I gave you your nickname, at least I had the decency to embellish, Two-liter.” I stared at his crotch and smirked. “I think we both know Half-pint is grossly inaccurate, though.”
He shrugged. “Not that inaccurate.”
I could have slapped him. Nothing but lies and slander sat in that sentence. Of all people, he would have known best. He’d seen that penis. He had personal experience with that penis. Still, I knew we weren’t in that place. “I’ve got about fifteen-hundred ex-colleagues and a Christmas-themed sock that would be more than willing to call you a liar right now.”
Gray cringed, picking up a forgotten box of macaroni and staring at it as he spoke. “I heard about your email. Why would you do that?”
“Tequila,” I said, regretting my choice of penis-size defense. “I don’t know why I brought that up. It’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t leave my condo for months.” For the life of me, even as the words left my mouth, I didn’t know why the hell I was sharing this part of me with him. We weren’t in that place. We hadn’t been in that place in decades. “I lost everything I worked for. I worked so hard, Gray. I had nothing when I left here. Just enough for the bus ticket and a few meals.”
“Where did you go?” His voice was hushed. It was like this moment was just for us. Like he’d been wanting to ask me for years. He probably had, for all I knew.
