Maybe one day it will work out.
By the evening, I’m dreading tomorrow morning. Not only do I have to go into work, which feels worse because it’s so close to our Christmas break, but I also have to give Powder Puff back.
I eat some Chinese takeout for dinner and talk to my grandmother on the phone for a while. She wants to verbally review the entire schedule for her house party, which will officially start a week from Tuesday. I have to go into work on that Tuesday morning, but then we’re having our holiday party at lunchtime, and we’re off for the afternoon. We get the rest of the week off and the beginning of the next, having to return before New Year’s to handle the end-of-the-year financial wrap-up for clients. It’s a good long break, and my grandma is clearly expecting me to spend most of it at her place.
It’s okay. The rest of my family will be there, and she’s also invited a number of her friends. If it’s too boring or annoying, I can leave a day or two early, but it’s not like I have anything more exciting in the works.
I haven’t dated since Ted broke up with me last month. I simply haven’t been in the mood.
I wonder what Rafe is doing for Christmas. His family is local, and he seems to be fairly close to them. He’ll probably spend most of the holiday with them.
It will be good to have a nice long break from him too.
When there’s a knock on the door, I jump to my feet, startled and confused. The exterior doors to the building are locked, so visitors have to call up to be let in.
I have no idea who could be knocking on my door right now.
I put down the mug of herbal tea I’ve been sipping and hush Powder Puff, who raced to the door and is yapping at it with fierce indignation.
When I hear muffled laughter through the closed door, I know exactly who knocked.
I stand with my hand poised on the doorknob, frozen in bewilderment and sudden excitement.
“If you don’t let me in, Powder Puff will never stop that yapping, and Mrs. Honeywell will call to complain.”
He’s right. I have no idea how he knew I’m standing on the other side of the door, but Rafe is exactly right about the likely sequence of events if I don’t let him in right now.
With a sigh and what I hope is a cool frown, I swing the door open.
There he is. Rafe. Wearing black-and-gray-plaid flannel pants and a ragged T-shirt so old it barely fits him anymore. It’s snug through the shoulders and biceps.
He’s got really good biceps. I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.
“Why don’t you throw away that shirt?” I ask. “You’ve had it since like tenth grade.” I know how long it’s been, since I remember the first day he wore it. I got a ninety-nine on our chemistry exam that day while he only got a ninety-eight. I got some good gloating in because of that fact. I don’t know why I recall such a random detail.
He glances down at himself, surprised. “It’s still good.”
“No, it’s not. It barely fits, and it’s ripped all over.” I reach out to indicate a split in the seam on the side and somehow end up hooking my finger into the tear. I touch his skin and pull my hand back sharply.
He’s looking between his shirt and my face, his eyes still laughing. “It’s fine. Although it’s flattering that you’ve noticed I’ve bulked up some since high school.” He’s not overly bulky, but he works out regularly, and he’s definitely got more muscle development than he did as a teenager. He was always kind of scrawny as a kid.
I sigh and roll my eyes, letting that be my response. “What did you want?”
He leans down to pet Powder Puff, who’s run into the hall to greet him like a beloved companion. “Hey, girl. So you haven’t gone home yet?”
“She goes home tomorrow morning. What did you need? Let me guess, you’ve got a girl over and she needs emergency tampons.” It’s not a wild theory. He’s come over twice in the past few years to ask me for exactly that. His girlfriends are clearly the type who don’t go everywhere prepared like I do.
“Not this time. No girl over tonight. I actually—”
I’m distracted enough by his mild comment that I interrupt. “You haven’t had a girlfriend for a while. Is your pool of interested women drying up at last?”
Now that I think about it, the last time I saw him with a woman was that morning when we ran into each other in the hall. The day Ted broke up with me.
It’s been a month. Has he really not had a woman over in a month? I’ve never seen him go so long between relationships.
“Nothing is drying up.” He sounds relaxed but also a bit distant, as if I’ve somehow offended him.
“Then what’s the deal? Why haven’t you moved on to someone else? You’ve always got something going with someone.”
“I’m taking a break.” He definitely sounds slightly cool, which isn’t at all like him. “I haven’t been in the mood.”
Despite our constant back-and-forth, I don’t actually want to hurt him for real. I know him well enough to be capable of doing so, but I always stop myself before I take that step. So instead of pursuing this fascinating topic, I change the subject. “Okay. So what did you need then?”
“I wanted to tell you, just in case you don’t know, that I’ve been invi—”
This time it’s not me who interrupts him. The door to the stairwell halfway down the hall opens as he’s speaking, and the older couple who lives next door to Rafe starts to walk through.
Powder Puff has been sniffing her way around the carpet and walls on this end of the hallway, taking advantage of my distraction with Rafe, and now she races to greet the newcomers before I can stop her.
“Powder Puff!” With a groan, I jog after her. I’m not particularly worried because I’ll be able to catch her when she stops to say hello to the Waverlys. She always makes a beeline directly toward new people who might worship at her altar.
Chuckling, Rafe comes with me.
Fred Waverly is holding the stairwell door open for his wife. He gives us a friendly wave and asks, “Did y’all get a dog?”
Y’all. Why does he say y’all?
Rafe and I aren’t together. In no way do the two of us add up to a y’all.
I ignore it because it would feel rude and defensive to correct the implication. “No, I’m just dog-sitting for someone.”
Powder Puff dances around Fred’s feet, but he ignores her. He’s still holding the door open, and I see why when I approach. His wife, Greta, has a bouquet of flowers so big they take both her arms to hold them.
“Wow! Those are gorgeous!” I’m smiling at her as she walks through the doorway and into the hall with the rest of us.
“Thank you. Fred bought them. It’s our thirtieth anniversary today.”
“Oh, congratulations!”
“Congrats!” Rafe says at the same time with a friendly smile.
It’s not his sardonic one. That one he saves mostly for me. He sounds like he means it, and I’ve always wondered why I never get that warm, genuine side of him directed toward me.
Fred finally lets go of the door, but it closes slowly. Leaving time for Powder Puff, who is shocked and outraged at being ignored after she presented herself to be adored, slips through the opening and runs into the stairwell.