Page 58 of When the Walls Come Down
If I had any luck at all, I’d survive this whole mess. But my poor dick… He was another story.It wasn’t even nine yet when I got home from Two Ships. I stood in my doorway longer than usual, staring at my apartment. Everything was right where I’d left it. All the rooms of my studio sectioned off by strategically placed furniture, peppered with a few boxes that had yet to be unpacked.
But every single thing in that apartment was all mine.
I’d picked it out, ridden the retail high, and had the credit card debt to show for it. However, while standing there, gawking like a stranger on a tour of homes, I hated every single bit of it.
It was all so fucking empty.
But you want to know what hadn’t been empty? Shane’s arms when he’d opened them to me.
Maybe I was homesick or the stress of the week had finally knocked me on my ass. I’m sure that double vodka cranberry hadn’t helped, but it had taken the edge off.
There were reasons entire songs were written about the weekend. Fridays were supposed to be the ultimate escape. Two full days away from work to do whatever the hell you wanted.
Yet sitting alone in that apartment was not what I wanted.
I missed my family. I missed being able to run over to Heath and Clare’s to play with the girls. I missed my sisters randomly popping by my old apartment, completely uninvited and unwelcome, to meddle in my life. Now though, I would have given anything for one of those surprise visits, no matter how obnoxious they might have been.
But if I told the truth, like the honest-to-God truth, I really missed Shane.
One week and that man had wiggled into my life in such a way that he’d become a fixture.
He lived next door. We literally shared walls with each other. This time last week, I had still been sitting on my stool at Two Ships, listening to him prattle on about God only knew what. But I could guarantee with an absolute certainty I had been smiling while he did it.
And now we were friends. Stupid, non sex-having, only-hug-when-I’m-having-an-emotional-breakdown friends.
My gaze landed on my vase of lilacs. They had started to wilt, but I hadn’t been able to convince myself to throw them away yet.
Dread filled my stomach. I should have called Melanie, or Heath, or even Jenna or Laurie. Perhaps I could have even called up to my old restaurant and chitchatted with whoever answered the phone under the guise of checking in.
I did none of that though. Instead, I turned my attention to the balcony.
I had no idea when he’d be home. He’d admitted just how much he hated that balcony earlier in the week, so catching him outside was highly unlikely.
But friends could talk, right?
I was a big girl. I could initiate a conversation if I wanted. I was sure I had a pack of Tic Tacs somewhere I could hurl over to his side. Okay, maybe something slightly less annoying. I was still finding the tiny orange pieces on my balcony when the wind blew hard enough.
Smiling to myself, I had just the thing that would draw him out. Was it pure non-relationship self- sabotage? Probably. But there would be a wall between us, and it was the best damn cock block there ever was.
I gathered my supplies. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to see me, I stopped at my closet, changed into my favorite sweats, and gathered my hair into a ponytail.
My makeshift tip bucket tied to the belt of my bathrobe. Check.
A wireless speaker tucked inside. Check.
Shania Twain playlist on my phone. Check.
All systems were a go in Operation Extract Shane.
Two songs later? Bingo.
“Really, Peach?”
I bit my bottom lip and stifled a laugh. “Oh, hey, Shane. I didn’t know you were out here.”
“Is that why there’s a speaker hanging over the wall playing ‘Man! I Feel Like A Woman!’ at a decibel usually reserved for concerts?”
I pressed pause on the song and slowly started to pull the bucket back over, but it was suddenly tugged from my grip.
“Hey!” I complained. “That’s mine.”
“Not tonight, it’s not. If you’re forcing me out onto this death trap, then we are going to at least listen to something decent.”
The robotic voice of my speaker announced, “Bluetooth paired,” and not a second later, the quiet melody of Chris Cornell’s voice singing an acoustic version of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” filled the night air.
I smiled, thankful it wasn’t the Alice in Chains I feared he played on loop.
“I’m not forcing you out here,” I lied.
His voice was wholly sad as he replied, “You’re out here, Maggie. There’s no way I’d be able to stay away.”
My body warmed immediately, but it caused an ache in my chest. “Can we not do that tonight? I could really use some happy right about now.”
