“You know he was a good one if he got to live,” she said.
I choked on my spit. This made her laugh and we both descended into a fit. Mom shot us an “Are You Kidding Me” look from across the room, and we leaned into each other and tried to contain it. The giggles eventually turned to tears.
I felt delirious. Drunk with grief.
But also somehow okay.
I was going to be okay.
I was ready to take responsibility for my own unhappiness.
I was going to take some time off. Process what I’d been through the last few months, start a new hobby, get some exercise, get back out there. I was going to make Grandma proud. I probably wouldn’t kill a guy, but I would definitely never accept anything less than what I deserved, ever again.
“I’m gonna miss her,” I said, wiping away tears.
“Me too. What a mic drop, though. Brava.”
“She would have loved this,” I said.
“Oh, she one hundred percent did this on purpose. This was exactly what she wanted us talking about, standing over her dead body. A fucking legend.” She sniffled. “It’s still hard, though.”
“It is hard,” I said. “It’s hard as hail.”
John
CHAPTER 12
Iwalked Doobie in the courtyard every time I came over to Frank’s, looking for the woman in the jade bracelet. Hell, I came over even when I didn’t need to. When a month had passed without a sighting, I finally gave up. I had to accept that I’d lost my shot. But I wouldn’t lose it the next time with the next person. I was officially out of my caveman era, and I was accepting responsibility for my own unhappiness.
I decorated my apartment. My place actually looked nice now. I refurbished some furniture I found; I started a potted garden out on my patio and put the succulent from H out there. Painted. I even got some artwork. I maintained the haircut. Kept the beard—I liked it—but I trimmed it daily.
The job got a little easier too. I was almost through the backlog of repairs. People were starting to know me in the building; I got friendly head nods now. I got on a first-name basis with some of the elderly residents. They needed someone to check up on them, and I was glad to do it. They liked the visits from Doobie. I felt like I had a community. A purpose.
I kept that last note from H on my fridge. A reminder to control the things that are in my control.
I still thought about the woman in the jade bracelet from time to time. How she appeared that day in the courtyard like magic, then vanished without a trace.
It was weird to say, but I felt like I might think about her for the rest of my life. Like she would be my one “What If.”
I guess in the grand scheme of things, a single “What If” isn’t too bad.
But still.
Holly
CHAPTER 13
“I’m going to Home Depot tonight to wander the aisles looking lost and confused,” I said to Jillian over the phone. “I need paint. I’m doing the kitchen. Do you want to come and help me pick colors?”
“Hell yes I do.”
I was standing at my sink, doing dishes wearing the Death Goddess shirt she got me for my birthday last week. The Doobie Brothers were playing, and my nurse bobblehead was bouncing on the windowsill next to my herbs. She still had the little Thank You sign.
I’d moved her from the car to the apartment. I wasn’t working right now, so I wasn’t driving much, and I wanted to look at her. She made me happy.
“I’ll go with you,” Jillian said. “But just so you know, I’m only looking at the hot men with tools; I’m not shopping for one.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Silence.
I gasped. “Who?”
“He’s just this guy who adopted one of my guinea pigs. It’s very new.”
“Oh my God. Does he use four-in-one shampoo?”
“If he did, I’d let it slide.”
I shut off the water. “Woooooow.” I leaned my back against the counter. “The bar is coming down.”
“I think you underestimate the sex appeal of a man snuggling a guinea pig.”
I laughed.
“So you’re really ready to get back out there, then?” she asked. “Red-tool time?”
“I think so,” I said, drying my hands on a towel. “It’s what Grandma would have wanted for me. And love isn’t going to come find me in my living room.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“I gotta go. The maintenance guy is here. Six?”
“Six works.”
I hit the “End Call” button and took out my earbuds and went to open the door.
The man standing there was in a gray tee, jeans, and a tool belt—red tools.
“I’m maintenance, you called about a door?” he said, looking at his phone.
“Yeah, hi, come in.”
He glanced up and froze. Then I froze too.
He looked familiar. Where did I know him from?
“I . . . I know you,” he said.
“I think I know you too.”
“I met you in the courtyard at the Rose Roof Apartments. A couple of months ago,” he said. “I had my dog.”
I broke into a grin. “Doobie. I remember.”
Wow. He’d looked good to me then, but he looked fantastic now. He’d gotten a haircut, trimmed his beard.
He was staring at me like he’d seen a ghost.
“So you work here?” I asked.
“I live here. Yeah, I’m the maintenance guy.”
I smiled. “This is where you got stung by hornets?”
He nodded back the way he came. “Over in the parking garage.”
“So that’s who took that nest down. A hero.”
He chuckled, still looking at me wide-eyed.
I couldn’t believe it.
He’d crossed my mind a lot since that day. I couldn’t seem to shake that little connection we’d had, but I never in a million years thought I’d see him again.
He cleared his throat. “So you have a broken door?”
“The sliding glass door in the living room,” I said, putting a thumb over my shoulder. “It’s sticking?”
“Okay. Let’s have a look.”
I stepped aside and let him in, and he headed for the balcony. I watched him as he went.
He filled the room, and he did it in the best way. He was tall and imposing but with a friendly sort of gentleness about him.
I knew him by reputation. He checked on the elderly tenants in the building; my next-door neighbor had mentioned it.
I didn’t know what to do with myself all of a sudden. I felt nervous, like I did on a first date I was really excited about.
I tucked my hair behind my ear. “So have you lived here long?” I asked.
He glanced at me. “Not long. You?”
“Since December.”
He started sliding the door back and forth. A nice biceps flexing.
“I never see you,” I said, admiring the view while he wasn’t paying attention.
“I’m on the other side of the complex.”
“And do you like living here?”
“I do. But the job’s hard as hail.”
I laughed at the inside joke, and he gave me a smile. It broke the weird tension.
“So how have you been?” he asked, crouching to look at the track. “The last time I saw you, you mentioned having a tough day?”
I put my hands in my back pockets. “Good. Great, actually. I’ve been making some changes I needed to make. Taking responsibility for my own unhappiness.”
He stilled. “I’ve been doing the same thing . . . I’ve never heard anybody use that saying before,” he said, looking at me strangely.
“Which one?”
“The responsibility unhappiness thing.”
“Oh. Yeah, I kind of live by it now.”
He was studying me. “So do I.”
There was a weird break in the conversation.
“Sooo the door . . . ,” I said.
He seemed to snap back into the room. “I think the track needs to be replaced. I want to do it tonight; I don’t want to leave you with a door that doesn’t close properly. I need to run to Home Depot.”
“I was going to Home Depot too.” Then I paused. “I’m not saying we should go together,” I said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that if you see me there, I’m not following you.”
“What project are you doing?”
I nodded at the kitchen. “I was going to paint.”
He looked toward the sink and stared. “Where’d you get that bobblehead?” He looked back at me.
“It was a gift.”
Silence.
“Are you a nurse?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m a hospice nurse.”
He paused. “Do you drive a white Honda?”