Page 39 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

I suppose we were. I suppose I wasn’t just angry that he left. I was angry that I was made to go back to what my life was like before. Being there for Dad, looking after him and the house, like I always did. Troy spoiled me, in a way. He showed me what I was missing. If I hadn’t seen that, maybe my resentment toward him wouldn’t have been so strong.

But that’s all behind us now. If this is going to work, and I’m still not certain that it will, I can’t hang on to all of that.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Troy’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

I spin my head to look at him. “Oh, nothing.”

He gives me a discerning look, like he doesn’t believe a word of it, and then nods. “Right.”

“I don’t have to be thinking all the time,” I say. It’s a lie, of course. As far as I know, most women never stop thinking. It’s a curse. A ticker tape of constant verbosity, running around our heads like a gaggle of geese.

“You’re a woman,” he says, nearly plucking the thought from my mind. “Of course you do.”

We turn into a small side street and then take another left. Joey’s is sandwiched between a bar and a liquor store. But as we pull up outside, my eyes fly wide open as I see the elegant scroll of the sign that sits above the old diner. The Statesman.

“Wow,” I gasp, taking in the perfect combination of the silver color and the scrolling steel that surrounds it. “That’s beautiful.”

When Troy doesn’t say anything, I look over at him. He’s beaming from ear to ear. “You like it?” he says, clearly delighted that I do.

“Absolutely. It’s bold, yet understated and classy, all rolled into one.”

“Glad I can get such a compliment from such an esteemed interior decorator as yourself,” he says with a smirk, opening the door and jumping from the truck. After opening my door, he offers his hand. “Come on. Let me show you the inside.”

“You’ve been busy,” I say, gazing around at the transformed interior.

The last time I was here, there were red vinyl booths facing square tables. But all of those are gone. In their place, tables dressed with crisp white linen are surrounded by padded dining chairs.

“I’m getting rid of those,” Troy says, pointing to the chairs. “They were here when I bought the place, but they’re outdated.”

“Really?” I frown. “It must have been ages since I was last here, then. Do you remember the red booths?” I ask, walking further into the large open space of the dining area.

“Geez, you are going back.”

“I suppose I am. Dad only brought us here once. Mom was still alive, so that was a while ago.”

Taking my hand, Troy excitedly leads me behind the counter and into the huge kitchen. I can’t help but notice the gleaming appliances that run from one end to the other. “These are all new?”

“Yep,” he says, continuing to pull me onward. We walk through the kitchen, where he shows me a huge pantry and opens the back door to the yard at the rear.

“So…” He’s as excited as a child in an ice cream shop. “What do you think?”

We’re now back in the kitchen, and I can’t help but feel excited for him. Whatever he’s experiencing, it’s contagious. Maybe it’s that beaming smile or the buzz that I can sense emanating from him. In that moment, seeing him lit up like a Christmas tree, I truly feel so happy for him. He’s worked hard to get this far, and seeing his dream become a reality is more than ninety percent of the population will ever experience.

“I think you should be proud of all you’ve achieved so far, Troy. Truly, I do. All your hard work has paid off.”

He gives me a look like he’s surprised.

“What?” I shrug.

Clearly stumbling to find the right words, he says, “I… it’s just… well.”

“What?” I laugh.

He takes a breath and looks at me with the deepest intensity I’ve seen from him so far. “Thank you. That’s really what I want to say. Thank you. After what I did to you, your words mean a lot.”

“Can we set a new rule?” I reply.

His eyebrows work like he’s suspicious of what I’m about to say, but he concedes, anyway. “Sure. What’s the new rule?”

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