Page 2 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

Now, the rental sign is gone.

It would be too much to ask that the possessions that have just been hauled from that huge truck and into the house next door belong to any other person but Troy Heaton.

So I don’t ask. I just know.

It’s the only logical conclusion. It’s just too coincidental to be anybody else. I can hope, but hope isn’t going to change anything. As I maneuver around the front of the truck and pull into my driveway, it starts its loud engines. I’m still sitting in my car, reeling from disbelief, when the beast of a thing pulls away.

“Oh, good Lord.”

I have to sit for a minute. Mainly because I don’t think my feeble legs can hold me yet. I’ve already had two major shocks and a near-death experience—Mrs. Burton’s, not mine—but collapsing on the driveway would be one step too far. Or no steps at all, as it happens.

After all this time, I still cannot believe it. Troy Heaton has finally come home. Troy Heaton has finally come home, and he is moving in next door. After a few minutes pass, I shake myself.

Move, Charlie. Sitting here all evening is not going to get you or your groceries inside the house. Besides, do you really want to be out here when Troy finally shows up?

Absolutely not!

After struggling to unlock the front door with my arms full of groceries, I kick it closed behind me. I had plans to make a delicious dinner with what is in these paper bags, but my rumbling stomach will have to wait. Dumping them on the counter, I reach inside my purse and pull out my phone. I need to call Milly.

My best friend is a bundle of joy, energy, and hyperactivity, all rolled into one. Ordinarily, she answers the phone with her usual bubbly voice. On this occasion, however, it appears her energy and joy have taken a vacation.

“Don’t be mad,” she says warily before I even have a chance to speak. Evidently, she already knows why I’m calling. I suppose you have that connection with your best friend after fourteen years. Though coming to this conclusion after seeing Troy on the street and then a moving truck parked next door is hardly a reach, right?

“When were you going to tell me?” I’m trying to keep my tone neutral, but it’s nearly impossible. I’m still reeling, and I want answers.

“It’s complicated,” she says.

“What’s complicated about telling me your brother is home? Or that he happens to be moving in next door?” I shriek. Yep, any effort at remaining calm just flew out of the window.

Silence.

“Milly?”

I hear a heavy sigh through the phone. “There just never seemed to be a right time,” she says eventually

“Really?” I blurt. “You thought you’d just leave it until the day he arrived? A special surprise just for me?” I say sarcastically.

“Is he there?” she asks.

I’m not sure whether she means here with me, or there, as in, next door. I assume the latter.

“No, he is not there,” I retort in frustration. “All his belongings are, though. The moving truck just pulled away. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“If it’s any consolation,” she says timidly, “I didn’t tell him, either.”

“What?!”

Oh, this is just great. So, Troy Heaton is going to move in next door, entirely oblivious that I’m living beside him. He’s going to have the shock of his life when he finds out who his neighbor is. Hopefully, he won’t be driving when he discovers it, and Mrs. Burton might be safe for a while longer.

“Hear me out, Charlie,” Milly says, sounding defensive. “It’s not like I had anything to do with it. He did it all online. The realtor, the moving company, everything. We didn’t even know he was coming back, and then, boom, Troy drops the bombshell.”

My mind is racing, and I’m holding my breath—the one I keep telling myself to take, just waiting for Milly to tell me that Troy’s getting married.

“When he called us to say he was coming home, I wanted to tell you. But I chickened out. Then, when he called last week, he said he didn’t need to stay with us because he had gotten himself a place. It was only after I asked where it was that he told me the address. I was so stunned, I couldn’t tell him that it happened to be right next door to you.”

“Well, this is just fantastic,” I say, keeping with my sarcasm. “Wonderful news. Couldn’t be more delighted.”

Even though I’m pacing up and down the kitchen like a caged tiger, I feel some relief that there was no mention of wedding bells. Not that I should care. I mean, why would I? I haven’t seen the man in ten years.

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