Doesn’t mean that I can’t hurt them, though.
“I’m sorry, Michelle,” I tell her. “I can’t do that. I’m getting ready to head out soon with Ben and I need the key.”
“Then stop and get a key made for me today,” she says very slowly, as if she’s talking to a five-year-old.
“Yeah,” I say thoughtfully, scratching my head. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tell her firmly, “I can’t do that either.”
“Excuse me?” she says in disbelief.
“Can’t do that,” I affirm.
“Can’t or won’t,” she says with her eyes narrowed on me. She’s starting to catch on.
“Won’t,” I clarify as I drop my arms and take a step toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…I have to finish getting Ben ready, and then I’m expecting some workers here at any moment who I need to get set up.”
“Workers for what?” she demands.
“The carpet upstairs is getting replaced today,” I tell her, but offer no other details.
“Why is Zack doing that?” she asks, her eyes darting up the stairs.
“No clue,” I say with a shrug. “You should ask him.”
Sorry, Zack, I think to myself. You’re going to have to handle that one, buddy.
It’s not my place to tell Michelle that Zack is listing the house for sale. I’d gladly break the news to this woman if I knew Zack would approve, but again, since she was Gina’s friend, and that’s a touchy situation, I’m going to let Zack handle it.
“Zack is not going to be happy you’re refusing to make a key for me,” she says, almost in a whining voice, but I can hear exactly what she doesn’t want me to hear. There is doubt in her voice and it tells me that even she has some inkling that she’s overstepped her bounds.
“Well, that’s something you can discuss with Zack when he gets back. He’ll be flying in Wednesday afternoon,” I tell her with a gracious smile.
Luckily, the doorbell rings and I almost do a happy dance to know I’m being saved by carpet layers.
“Then I’ll have to do that,” Michelle snaps at me, then calls into the living room, “Come on, Beau. We need to get going.”
With little fanfare, Michelle and Beau leave the house.
I admit the workers and get them started upstairs, leaving my cellphone number with them in case they have problems while we’re gone.
Then I load Ben up in Zack’s Range Rover that he left for me to use and we head out to the Marbles Kids Museum for a day of fun.
—
Ben finally went to sleep. He was fussy because he didn’t get to talk to Zack before he went to bed, as Zack was in the process of putting an ass-whupping on the L.A. Dragons. I promised him his daddy would call him in the morning, because Zack told me he would via text, and I got him settled with two readings of The Giving Tree, which I don’t particularly enjoy because it makes me cry every time. Now, holding a glass of wine, I prop my feet up on the ottoman that sits in front of a plush corner chair that’s become my favorite to sit in, and open up Zack’s laptop. He also left that behind and asked if I had some time, would I start a search for some houses for sale? He gave me certain parameters such as location, square footage, and price range, but after that, he told me he didn’t much care about the details. The only “must have” was at least an acre lot, preferably fenced in, so Ben could have his dog.
I surf his real estate agent’s website for a bit, printing off some good choices on the wireless printer. I imagine Ben in some of those houses, running around a backyard with a golden retriever named Bentley or something as deservingly distinguished. I can see Zack playing out there with him, and although I can see it, I purposely don’t include myself in that image. I don’t belong there…Zack has made that clear.
Still, I’m excited he’s doing this. Ever since he made the decision to sell this house, he’s seemed not necessarily happier…but maybe freer is the word. Zack isn’t going to sit on this for very long. He’s ready to move once this house is listed, easily able to afford double mortgages if it doesn’t sell quickly. He asked me before he left if I would mind helping with the packing, and, of course, I told him I’d be glad to help.
He about slayed me when he said in a soft voice, “Please be careful packing up all the framed photos with Gina. I want to get them set up as quickly as we can in the new house. Ben especially will need to see them up right away.”
And yup…my heart melted over his thoughtfulness.
My phone buzzes next to me on the side table and I reach for it. It’s a text from Sutton and it brings an immediate smile to my face without my even reading it. We’ve kept in contact since our lunch a few weeks ago. Friendly talk…mostly text, but one phone call too. I appreciate it greatly, but sometimes I’m at a loss as to how to react to her. I’ve never had a close girlfriend before. Not that that is what is happening here. But it’s a new feeling for me to have someone interested in me and who wants to get to know me better.
Dinner. Tomorrow night. Zack’s house. Olivia and I bringing the wine for after Ben goes to sleep. You’re cooking.
I stare dumbfounded at the text, even rubbing my thumb slowly over the words. They want to hang with me? And drink wine?
Okay, I write back, and wonder if from my lack of enthusiastic response she’s wondering if she made a colossal mistake in inviting herself to spend time in my presence.
“I’m sorry, Michelle,” I tell her. “I can’t do that. I’m getting ready to head out soon with Ben and I need the key.”
“Then stop and get a key made for me today,” she says very slowly, as if she’s talking to a five-year-old.
“Yeah,” I say thoughtfully, scratching my head. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tell her firmly, “I can’t do that either.”
“Excuse me?” she says in disbelief.
“Can’t do that,” I affirm.
“Can’t or won’t,” she says with her eyes narrowed on me. She’s starting to catch on.
“Won’t,” I clarify as I drop my arms and take a step toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…I have to finish getting Ben ready, and then I’m expecting some workers here at any moment who I need to get set up.”
“Workers for what?” she demands.
“The carpet upstairs is getting replaced today,” I tell her, but offer no other details.
“Why is Zack doing that?” she asks, her eyes darting up the stairs.
“No clue,” I say with a shrug. “You should ask him.”
Sorry, Zack, I think to myself. You’re going to have to handle that one, buddy.
It’s not my place to tell Michelle that Zack is listing the house for sale. I’d gladly break the news to this woman if I knew Zack would approve, but again, since she was Gina’s friend, and that’s a touchy situation, I’m going to let Zack handle it.
“Zack is not going to be happy you’re refusing to make a key for me,” she says, almost in a whining voice, but I can hear exactly what she doesn’t want me to hear. There is doubt in her voice and it tells me that even she has some inkling that she’s overstepped her bounds.
“Well, that’s something you can discuss with Zack when he gets back. He’ll be flying in Wednesday afternoon,” I tell her with a gracious smile.
Luckily, the doorbell rings and I almost do a happy dance to know I’m being saved by carpet layers.
“Then I’ll have to do that,” Michelle snaps at me, then calls into the living room, “Come on, Beau. We need to get going.”
With little fanfare, Michelle and Beau leave the house.
I admit the workers and get them started upstairs, leaving my cellphone number with them in case they have problems while we’re gone.
Then I load Ben up in Zack’s Range Rover that he left for me to use and we head out to the Marbles Kids Museum for a day of fun.
—
Ben finally went to sleep. He was fussy because he didn’t get to talk to Zack before he went to bed, as Zack was in the process of putting an ass-whupping on the L.A. Dragons. I promised him his daddy would call him in the morning, because Zack told me he would via text, and I got him settled with two readings of The Giving Tree, which I don’t particularly enjoy because it makes me cry every time. Now, holding a glass of wine, I prop my feet up on the ottoman that sits in front of a plush corner chair that’s become my favorite to sit in, and open up Zack’s laptop. He also left that behind and asked if I had some time, would I start a search for some houses for sale? He gave me certain parameters such as location, square footage, and price range, but after that, he told me he didn’t much care about the details. The only “must have” was at least an acre lot, preferably fenced in, so Ben could have his dog.
I surf his real estate agent’s website for a bit, printing off some good choices on the wireless printer. I imagine Ben in some of those houses, running around a backyard with a golden retriever named Bentley or something as deservingly distinguished. I can see Zack playing out there with him, and although I can see it, I purposely don’t include myself in that image. I don’t belong there…Zack has made that clear.
Still, I’m excited he’s doing this. Ever since he made the decision to sell this house, he’s seemed not necessarily happier…but maybe freer is the word. Zack isn’t going to sit on this for very long. He’s ready to move once this house is listed, easily able to afford double mortgages if it doesn’t sell quickly. He asked me before he left if I would mind helping with the packing, and, of course, I told him I’d be glad to help.
He about slayed me when he said in a soft voice, “Please be careful packing up all the framed photos with Gina. I want to get them set up as quickly as we can in the new house. Ben especially will need to see them up right away.”
And yup…my heart melted over his thoughtfulness.
My phone buzzes next to me on the side table and I reach for it. It’s a text from Sutton and it brings an immediate smile to my face without my even reading it. We’ve kept in contact since our lunch a few weeks ago. Friendly talk…mostly text, but one phone call too. I appreciate it greatly, but sometimes I’m at a loss as to how to react to her. I’ve never had a close girlfriend before. Not that that is what is happening here. But it’s a new feeling for me to have someone interested in me and who wants to get to know me better.
Dinner. Tomorrow night. Zack’s house. Olivia and I bringing the wine for after Ben goes to sleep. You’re cooking.
I stare dumbfounded at the text, even rubbing my thumb slowly over the words. They want to hang with me? And drink wine?
Okay, I write back, and wonder if from my lack of enthusiastic response she’s wondering if she made a colossal mistake in inviting herself to spend time in my presence.
