Page 56 of The Big Puck

I don’t answer because in retrospect, she’s at least partially right.

“I hope you don’t expect me to stay the night.” Her voice cracks, and that’s the last thing I want. “Go get her if you want her.” She pulls her luggage onto the bed and throws it open.

“I don’t.” Anger spills out because none of this is right. I don’t want Lainey. I can’t want her. “She’s not my type. I’m not interested in a relationship with her.”

“Of course not. She’s just a plaything. I get it. You’re turning out to be just like the rest of the men I know.”

“No. I don’t want anything from her. She’s too young and way too much trouble.” She stops packing her bag and stares at me.

“I swear, I want nothing to do with Lainey Hall.”

“And I want nothing to do with you.” Her voice is loud.

“Why are we arguing?”

“Because I’m mad. Because I don’t believe you. Because you made me come all this way to tell me you’re not interested.”

“Believe me, for fuck’s sake. I want nothing to do with Lainey Hall.” Why? Frustration gets to me, and I know I’m too loud, but what the fuck? What am I saying? Shonda is leaving, and I’m still trying to convince her there’s nothing between me and Lainey?

Shonda shrugs. “Have it your way. I’m gone.”

I nod. There’s no need for me to convince Shonda one way or another whether there’s anything between me and Lainey, so why do I feel a need?

“And no, I do not want one last night in the hay with you!” She shouts this, loud enough for anyone in the house to hear and maybe the neighbors.

“Fuck, Shonda.” She purposely wanted Lainey to hear that.

She laughs. “What do you care if she knows? Right? There’s nothing between you.”

“That’s right.” Maybe it’s best if she hears me. “There’s nothing between Lainey and me, and there never will be. She’s not my type. And even if she were, she’s a whole lot of complicated trouble I don’t need.” My voice isn’t as loud as Shonda’s, but I know it carries, and I glance into the hallway to the stairwell leading to her turret room.

“Carry my bags for me,” Shonda says, closing the latch on her designer luggage.

Following her down the stairs, I should be glad she’s leaving. One less problem, one less complication in my life.

But as I close the door behind her and turn around, the fact is that I still have a house filled with trouble named Lainey Hall. I heave a breath and head to the fridge for my dwindling emergency beer.

Chapter 21

LAINEY

It’s not that they’re loud. I hear Spence and Shonda because I’ve been awake with my gut in stitches for the past two hours, trying to sleep—or, who am I kidding?—pretending to sleep but secretly waiting for Spence and Shonda to return home. Why?

Because I need to know if my hunch-wish that Shonda is soon to be history is true, and if she sleeps in in the guest room tonight, I’ll know. Honestly, I was confident before I came upstairs, bolstered by Tina’s take on the woman at the game and Aunt Hildie’s take on where Spence’s heart is, but since I’ve been lying in the dark thinking about it, I’m less sure, and calling on my reserve of positive energy to bolster me has me wound up tight when I should be sleeping.

If Shonda doesn’t sleep in the guest room, then I…don’t know. I’ll have to cross that unlikely terrible bridge when I get to it.

Their voices drift up from the front hall all the way to my turret room, signaling the moment of truth has come. I squeeze my pillow and shut my eyes. I’m a bad person for eavesdropping, and I’m going straight to hell for hoping for the end of their relationship. Who the hell do I think am I anyway? The relationship guru? What do I know—really—after only one very long relationship with my childhood sweetheart, who I planned to marry, only to have it explode in spectacular fashion in one fell swoop, one minute of poor judgment on one night, ending it all?

In my defense, it was actually Moe’s poor judgment that led to my snap judgment, and it didn’t happen overnight since it was preceded by the rift which was brought on by a creepy skeleton in Moe’s family closet that he was far too reluctant to acknowledge.

Cryptic explanation, I know.

Though right now, no matter how much I keep my mind occupied and try not to, I hear them talking in Spence’s room and hear the finality in his voice.

Every word reverberates through the walls to my ears, and the painful ones uttered by Spence—I swear, I want nothing to do with Lainey Hall—shoot straight through my gut to stab me in the heart.

She’s leaving, and I should sigh in relief, glad to have my wish realized, but it feels much more like a hollow victory because Spence raises his voice, and I know it’s purposeful. He says, “There’s nothing between Lainey and me, and there never will be. She’s not my type.”