Page 107 of Employing Patience

Well, look at me getting all embarrassed and nervous. I sicken myself, honestly. I’m scrambling to hold on to any shred of confidence that I usually have, but every time I glimpse Joey, every time I picture him in my house, in my bed, a mosh pit starts in my gut and makes me want to hurl.

The greatest part of it all is that it’s in a good way though. I want to hurl in a good way. I feel sick in a good way.

Like I’ve just looked over the side of a mountain, bungee cord attached, knowing that this is how survival of the fittest weeds out the weak links.

And I’m gonna jump anyway.

As we pass by the large house I grew up in, where my parents still live with their parents, Joey turns to me in surprise.

“You live with your folks?”

“Not exactly.”

Confusion lines his brow, but I don’t address it because he’ll see soon enough. Mariana moved out first, and when it came time for me to go, I … couldn’t. My grandma and grandpa needed a lot of help, which my parents were adamant about doing themselves, only they really, really couldn’t.

So I lied. Told them it didn’t feel right to be away from home, and I had my home built on their property. It’s surrounded by high walls and gardens and blends in so completely that no one knows it’s here, but it’s only a short walk up to the main house, where I can check on everyone.

When I pull up behind the block, into a parking space under a large magnolia, we’re both thrown into shadow.

“So …” Joey starts.

My lips twitch, but I climb out, then round the car to open his door.

“I thought we were going to your house,” he says gently as he joins me on the dark footpath.

“We are.”

“Do you live in this tree?”

This time, he gets a laugh. “No. I … built this place. To be close to family. Only a handful of people have ever been here, and that includes my sister and niblings.”

“Is there a reason?”

“I’m not sure you’d understand.”

“Well, I definitely won’t if I don’t know what it is. If you tell me though, I can at least try to.”

I think for a moment, sorting through the words. “I share a lot of myself. With everyone. I don’t just mean my slutty ways either. Killer Brew, the parties, the DMC. I’m there for my family and friends. I fuck around, I help out if people need it. The majority of my life is an open book. And when you live that way, it can get exhausting. Even for an extrovert like me. So … I’ve made these little pockets in my life. Things I can enjoy solo. This house is one of those things.” Nevele Ounces is another.

“I get that. Thanks for trusting me.”

And until he says it, I hadn’t realized how much I needed for him to understand. To know that bringing him here wasn’t a whim or some way to try and charm him out of his pants yet again.

My heart is in my throat as I take his hand, lead him down a short, narrow alley, and unlock my gate. I’m so private about my space that while my parents know it’s here, they’ve never visited. I go to them. My niblings have the occasional sleepover, and Mariana has only ever been here to drop them off. I let Orson stay with me while he was getting back on his feet, and … that’s everyone.

Until now.

My cottage is all one room. Kitchen to the left, bedroom to the right, living space in the center. My bathroom is behind a large wall that my bed is set into, but it doesn’t have a door. There’s no need for privacy when I’m the only one who lives here.

“Can I be honest?” Joey asks.

“Of course.”

“This is the complete opposite of what I’d been expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

He thinks as he looks around. “A bachelor pad. Something that screams money.”

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