Page 9 of Charmed By the Next-Door Neighbor
Her mother is tall, thin, blonde. She's wearing a cream-colored blouse and slacks that probably cost more than my mortgage payment. Her father is next to her, graying hair, expensive watch, the kind of posture that says he's used to people listening when he talks.
They both look at me.
Then they look at Claire's hand in mine.
Then they look at me again.
Her mother's smile is frozen in place. Her father's expression doesn't change, but his eyes narrow just slightly.
"Nash," her mother says slowly. "It's... nice to meet you."
"You too, ma'am."
"Claire didn't mention she was seeing anyone," her father says.
"It's new," Claire says quickly, squeezing my hand. "We've been neighbors for a while, but we just started dating recently."
"How recently?" her mother asks.
"Does it matter?" Claire's voice has an edge to it now.
Her mother's smile tightens. "Of course not, sweetheart. We're just surprised. You usually tell us these things."
"Well, I'm telling you now."
The room goes quiet. I can feel the tension like a physical thing, thick and suffocating. Claire's grip on my hand is almost painful.
I do the only thing I can think of.
I let go of her hand and slide my arm around her waist instead, pulling her into my side.
She fits perfectly. Soft and warm and right, like she was made to be there. She looks up at me, startled, and I look down at her and forget her parents are in the room.
Forget this is fake.
Forget everything except the way she feels against me.
"Nash and I are happy," she says, but she's still looking at me. "That's all that matters."
Her mother makes a soft noise that might be agreement or protest.
Her father clears his throat. "And what is it you do, Nash?"
I drag my eyes away from Claire and look at him.
"Odd jobs," I say. "Construction, repairs. Whatever people need."
"So, you're a handyman."
It's not a question. It's a judgment.
"Something like that."
"And before that?"
"Firefighter."
That makes him pause. Just for a second.
