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“Okay,” he says, but the word takes way too long to get out. He still isn’t following me.
“Love, dating, sex, marriage—even though I’ve never been married or even engaged. They ask everything from what to give their partner for a birthday gift that saysI truly love youto how to get their significant other to put down the toilet lid.”
“Wait—you’re including that question in the love percentage?”
“You know it. They don’t ask how to help their son or dad or brother put that seat down—those guys they would just tell. They specifically ask about their husband, their boyfriend, theirpersonbecause those guys, they don’t knowhowto tell.”
“What does this have to do with James? With your breakup?”
“I am a fraud, Owen!” And not someone another can love easily. I blink back the thought and go on. “I give advice, good advice, but I never date the right guy, and I can’t keep a boyfriend for more than four months. I research, but I never actually try out my advice.”
“Two months,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Your boyfriends—they last no more than two months.”
“Fine.” I grind my teeth, annoyed at how close he pays attention.
“That doesn’t make you a fraud, though. Relationships are difficult. If you don’t have the same problems as someone else, how are you supposed to try out that specific advice?” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. I let him. I need someone to tell me I am who I say I am. I’m not a fraud, a fake, or a phony. I’m not. Right?
Even all these years later, Maddox’s words haunt me.Not one tear, Annie? You’re fake. How could anyone ever be with someone as unlovable as you?
“And don’t chalk this up to you not having long relationships. You just”—he shakes his head in little bobbles—“you need to find the right person. That’s all.”
It’s cliché advice—I hate cliché! I’d tell him as much. I’d yellat him if he weren’t so earnest—or maybe it’s the swinging kitchen door that shuts me up.
Grammy tromps out with two glasses of OJ in her hands. She takes one judgmental look at us, sets the cups down, then smacks Owen on the hand—the hand that holds mine. “No,” she barks. “It would never work.Never. You’re too close. You know too much.”
Owen pulls his hand back, giving it a slight shake to take out the sting.
Two things are very accurate about my half-Italian, half-American grandmother: she knows her food and she smacks like a pro wrestler.
“It’s not like that, Grammy. Owen was just comforting…” I dart a glance from Grammy to Owen, almost giving myself away. “Himself.”
“Oh, boy,” she groans. “Here, eat another pancake.” Grammy takes one of the untouched cakes from my plate and flops it onto Owen’s. “I’ll get more butter syrup.”
3
Owen
It’s not like that.
It’s lunchtime. Hours have passed, but I’m still hearing Annie’s words to her grandmother. She said it like we couldneverbe more.And I guess to Annie, we couldn’t. But for me—it’s always beenlike that.
I have done everything a man can possibly think of to get my head on straight. To distract myself from the feelings that Annie Archer always seems to stir inside of me. The feelings that apparently willneverbe.
I pull out my phone and look over the faces of my siblings, my mother, and Annie—my pinned phone numbers. My eyes linger on Annie’s photo far too long. I’ve pinned the picture of the time we had a watermelon eating contest and she won. Her matted red hair sticks to her face where the watermelon juice drenched her, and there’s a black seed stuck to the center of her chin. Freckles sprinkle her cheeks like a dusting of the sweetest sugar, and she’s beaming with victory. It’s my favorite photo of her, so of course it’s my contact photo.
It isn’t Annie’s face I hit, though. She’s the reason I’m feelinganxious. I tap Miles, needing his calm and collectedness right now.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Miles. You up for games after work?” It’s been a while since we’ve played Madden on the PlayStation, but we’re kind of giant children at heart.
“Video games? What did Annie do today? We haven’t resorted to video games in a while.”
“Or we could check out the community garden—or work on my house. I need to figure out mudding and taping.”
