I pick up my plate and move past Oliver on my way to the sink. “But just because Wicky’s wife puts up with it doesn’t mean she deserves it.” I rinse it off and turn on the quietest garbage disposal I’ve ever heard in my life. Momma’s vibrates the counter and floor. I turn it off and say, “Should I apologize to the wife?”
He shakes his head. “You should stay out of other people’s relationships, especially married people.”
That sounds as if Edie had affairs with more than one married man. Like Troy Wickerson wasn’t the first. If that’s the case, I’d rather not know. “I’m assumin’ you’re not married.”
“No, and
you should stay as far away from that subject as you can.”
Really? “We can talk about my life but not yours?”
“That’s right.” He lifts the water to his lips and drains the bottle.
“Friendship works two ways.”
“We’re not friends.” He sets the bottle on the island.
I don’t know why he’s so stubborn. If he didn’t care for me at all, he wouldn’t be here, standing in front of me, after he made sure I got home safe and sound—again. “I think we are.”
“You also think Coke is Dr Pepper and talk with a Southern twang when you were born in Detroit and graduated from the same college as Hillary Clinton and Pamela Melroy.”
Whoa. “Are you insultin’ my accent?”
He digs his keys out of his suit pocket and says, “It’s like country-and-western music: painful and drawls on forever.”
He just insulted my accent and my music, and I’m no longer feeling flirty. Now I’m riled. “I might have a drawl, but I’m not dumb.”
“You got lost five blocks from your house.”
His words hit close to my heart and spread across my chest. I feel as dumb as he believes I am—not for getting lost, but for thinking he cares about me. I’m more hurt than I want to admit to myself, but I don’t want to fly off the handle in front of him. “You’re right. We aren’t friends. Cute only gets you so far.” I feel like I used to when I liked a guy, and I thought he felt the same, but he never did. “I’d never be friends with someone like you. You’re cruel.”
“It’s a cruel world, Sunshine.”
He looks slightly amused, which only makes me so angry I lose my temper and now I don’t care. “Enough of this happy horseshit.” I march toward the front entrance and get angrier with each step. “You said we hadn’t talked in over ten years, and now I know why,” I say over my shoulder. “It’s not me. I’m a nice person. It’s you.”
He walks toward me and looks more amused than before. “Why are you so angry?”
I yank open the door. “Get out of my house.”
“I haven’t seen you this mad since the Calypso swamped your pink dinghy,” he says as he moves past me and steps into the hall.
“Oliver.” He turns and looks at me with one brow cocked. “You’re an asshole!” I slam the door in his face, and yes, it feels good to get the final word.
“Don’t forget to lock the door.”
I was just about to do that, but I look out the peephole and wait until he’s gone to twist the bolt.
I’m steaming as I head upstairs to get ready for bed. Normally, I like to turn on the fireplace and look out the windows at the stars or soak in the big marble tub and steam up the glass and mirrors. I like to contemplate deep thoughts, like where the first Edie ended up after she stole my path, how long I’ll be stuck here in Detroit, and why I can’t find a decent fish taco.
Tonight isn’t normal. Still fuming, I pull my composition notebook from the bedside table and start an Oliver-inspired song on the first clean page.
You said we have an aversion, and knowing what I know, I thought it was me. I tried to start over. Tried to be friends. Now I know what I know, it’s you and I’m free.
Cute only gets you so far. Yeah, cute only goes so far. It doesn’t make up for a heart as black as tar. We’ll never be friends—you have a bitter soul. We’ll never be friends—you’re a huge asshole.
21
The good news is that the orthopedic surgeon thinks I can get back all feeling in both my hands. Ninety percent movement will return to my left hand and the scars will fade to a thin line that can be removed with lasers. My surgery is scheduled for the day before Thanksgiving, and I’ll have to spend only one night in the hospital.