Page 98 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

His eyes lit up, a look of unholy glee on his face. “Is it my turn for an apology? Like the one you gave Maisey? Because Greg told me about it, and I have some ideas—”

I held up a hand, something warm bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. The sensation wasn’t, as it had been for the past three decades, the hot burn of an anger that had no outlet. Unless I was very much mistaken, it was laughter.

“God save me from a pack of irreverent millennials,” I muttered before launching into what I had to say. “Yes, it’s your turn, and no, your apology isn’t like the one I gave Maisey.”

“That’s not fair. You were just as mean to me as you were to her. I deserve one that’s equally grovelly.”

“Well, too bad.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the application from the home health services company. “Yours is coming in the form of a gift. I picked that up for you. They’re looking for nurses.”

He took the paper and scanned it, his face falling comically with every line. “You’re apologizing to me with ajob application?” He tried shoving it back at me. “Yeah…no. Apology not accepted.”

“For the love of Pete, just take it! Fill it out, don’t fill it out. Find a new job, don’t find a new job. Leave that boyfriend of yours, don’t leave him. I don’t care.”

At the mention of his boyfriend, all his irreverence fled. “What does Lincoln have to do with anything?”

“How should I know?” I asked. “Your personal life doesn’t interest me in the slightest. Whatdoesinterest me is that you’re the best performer I’ve seen in a long time. Possibly ever. I’m not ready to pass a final verdict.”

“Um. Then why did you give me a nursing application?”

“Because you’re a perfectly adequate nurse, and because the lady at the agency said they offer flexible hours. Do I have to doeverythingfor you?”

“Arthur, this isn’t how apologies work. Are you sure you don’t want to start over?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and called on all the power of Genie’s benevolent influence over me. I could it feel it strengthening with each day Greg stayed under this roof.

“Your problem—other than a tendency to levity—is that you refuse to let anything that’s good in your life becomegreat,” I said. “And don’t give me that look of outrage. You’re not fooling anyone. The other day, I said your problem is that you’re afraid of failure, and even though I could have phrased it better, I wasn’t wrong. Youareafraid of it. Or rather, you’re afraid of what happens if you don’t fail. You’re afraid of success.”

“Arthur,” he said again, slower this time. “Is that a compliment?”

“Of course it’s a compliment.” I could see that I was going to have to spell it out for him. “You’ve spent your whole adult life—and I’m guessing a hefty chunk of your youth—doing everything you can to separate yourself from your mother. The thing I can’t figure out iswhy. Althea Sharpe is a fantastic lounge singer, there’s no doubt about that. But if you think that’s the greatest accomplishment in her life, then you’re as muttonheaded as you pretend to be. Anyone with eyes in his head can see how proud she is of you when she pulls you up onto that stage. Not because you’re a great double act—even though you are—but because she’s happy to have you there next to her. From the look of things, that boyfriend of yours feels that way, too.”

He stood gawping at me like a landed fish.

“For God’s sake, Mateo. Stop hiding and let people love you. Take it from a man who learned that the hard way—life’s a hell of a lot better when you do.”

I felt slightly winded after a speech that went on for much longer than I’d intended, but I was starting to see a ray of hope. At least he’d stopped gawping.

“Does this mean you’ll take it?” I asked.

“Take what?” Mateo glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand. “Oh. You mean your so-called gift?”

I nodded. I hadn’t been lying before—I really didn’t care whether or not Mateo became a lounge singer like his mother—but he needed to at least give himself permission to try. He glanced back and forth between the application and me for much longer than the situation warranted—so long, in fact, thatIwas the one who started to feel a little lost.

“You want me to take this because you think I’m a perfectly adequate nurse?” he asked.

Had he not heard a word I just said? “I want you to take it because you should give yourself options.”

“Because I’m adequate at this nursing thing?” he persisted. “You’re satisfied with my level of care?”

Honestly, the younger generation’s need for external validation was going to be their undoing. “Yes, Mateo, because I’m satisfied with your level of care. There. I said it. Does that make you happy, or do you want me to put it in writing?”

“I don’t need it in writing.” He hesitated. “I just needed to hear that you respect my medical opinion before I say this next part.”

I was starting to feel uncomfortable at the direction this conversation was taking. “Why? Are you about to tell me that you’ve been lying all this time and I’m about to die? Because if that’s the case, you can keep it to yourself. I have no intention of popping off that easily. Not when I’m just starting to—”

I cut myself off before I could finish, though my meaning was obvious.When I’m just starting to get to know Greg. When I’m just starting to take an interest in life again.Not only was it unnecessary to say these aloud, but something about Mateo’s sympathetic flicker made me think that what he was about to say had nothing to do with me.

“I have no confirmation of this, and I wouldn’t say it if you hadn’t…” He took a deep breath, his eyes growing watery again. “If you hadn’t said those nice things about letting myself be loved. But you’re right. Idoneed to stop hiding from the things that matter. And I’m not the only one.”