Page 90 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

Jeez. ‘His name is Zach,’ I correct. ‘Not Dick.’

‘You sure about that? Needing to look up his name in your notes, over there?’

‘You realise you’ve allowed yourself to be exploited? This latest technique of Mom’s – getting the weakest to do her dirty work?—’

‘Who out of the three of us is the weakest, now?’

‘Well, there’s no way CeCe would have allowed herself to be used in such a way. Information gathering and reporting back is considered grunt work. Basic entry-level CIA training.’

‘You think Mom works for the CIA? I guess that’s not actually insane. She found out I added basil to one of her recipes the other day – how, I swear I can’t figure it out, but I’ve had three calls and an email about it.’

‘And knowing this you allowed yourself to be a pawn in the torture of another?’

‘Maybe I just wanted to talk to my sister? Been a while.’

‘It’s fine,’ I reply, not wanting him to feel guilty. ‘But when Mom was haranguing you into phoning me you did remind her that I react perfectly averagely to stress now?’

‘That would be a negative. I have to follow orders or I’ll start getting the Mom Treatment over kids and Terese and I have been married for about five whole minutes.’

‘Five whole minutes is long enough, little brother.’

‘Tell that to my wife who’s up for promotion.’

Hearing about Terese being up for promotion makes me think of George. I hope he’s doing okay.

When I left him the other night – after I’d told him about my own Day of Days, (which, the more I think about him sleeping through, the better I feel about it all) – he seemed like he was going to be okay. I’d managed to make him laugh at least.

Some of the laughter had been intentional and some not. I’d been trying to cover that awkward slice of time when I was in the hallway and he was leaning against the door to his apartment, his hand idly stroking over his heart. It had felt weirdly intimate. Him in his leisure wear. Me in my uniform and jeans. Like I was just leaving him to go off to work or something. After the third time of me asking, ‘Are you absolutely sure you’re going to be okay?’ and him nodding his head, I’d made him give me his phone so I could add my contact details in case he did need something. Passing him back the phone in the quietness of The Clouds’ corridor had felt even more intimate and I’d scrambled further for a way to depart and ended up saying, ‘Well, it’s been sixteen-letters phantasmagorical, but I should skedaddle.’

At his delighted expression for me working out the crossword clue, I’d added, ‘And no, we are so not naming the Ficus that.’

He’d burst into laughter and it had been like a rush of dopamine to hear the rich, throaty sound. Unfortunately, I’d then turned around and in doing so promptly bumped into my cleaning cart.

He’d immediately gone into gallant knight mode and stepped forward to check I was all right, until, clocking the rush of mortified beetroot-red to my face, he had backed away, given a mock salute and turned around to wander back into his apartment, casually waving a goodbye on his way back in. I think I’d heard a low chuckle as well.

‘So, is he?’ I hear Joey ask now. ‘Real?’

George felt maybe like the realest person I’d met in a while. Not hiding that you were struggling when faced with another person seeing you up close and personal – what could be more real than that? Plus, I’d held his hand. Felt his body heat.

Wait.

Joey’s not talking about George.

‘Yes, Joey, Zach is real.’

‘And you’re dating? As in, spending time with each other outside the sheets, in public places where sex is frowned upon and so you have to spend the time getting to know each other?’

‘Oh my God, Joey, I swear.’ It’s not an answer but I’m definitely not talking to my baby brother about my sex-life – or lack thereof.

‘So, bring him home next weekend.’

‘You must be joking. Why would I give you a pass on more Mom treatment about babies?’

‘Or is it that he’s not suitable “Bring Home to Meet the Family” material?’

‘You got me. If you want the truth, he’s an unemployed ex-sex addict who I’m completely in love with.’

‘Ex-sex addict? I feel sorry for you.’

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