Page 6 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

I shouldn’t be surprised. Clearly, Troy arrived late last night. But knowing that he is now actually inside the house makes me nervous. I know we’re going to have to see and speak to each other sooner or later, but I’d prefer it to be later. Besides, it’s too early in the morning. He’s likely still in bed. Stepping outside, I close the door behind me and walk to the car.

“Good morning.” The voice travels over the crisp morning air.

I stiffen in surprise. I hadn’t seen him in the garden and just assumed he would be in the house. Clearly, my assumption-making skills are way off. I’ll admit, his voice hasn’t changed much. It’s as deep and gravelly now as it was all those years ago.

I could jump in my car and drive away without speaking to him, but then I’d look like an idiot. He isn’t going anywhere. He’s not going to magically disappear. I’m going to have to face him one way or another, and with a huge sigh, I figure it’s going to have to be now.

“I’m your new neighbor,” he says, like I haven’t figured that out already. Does he think I’m dense?

Well, here goes nothing. I slowly turn to face him, already feeling wholly uncomfortable. He’s going to freak out when he realizes who I am. And as I turn toward him… yep. He’s freaking out.

Of course, he’s not the only one. I may have the advantage of forewarning, but it doesn’t stop my stomach from lurching when I see him standing there in a sports vest, those same bulging muscles pressed against the cotton like it’s a glove and not a shirt.

While his mouth falls open, my heart is thumping out of my chest, though I hold my expression. My face is like stone, while my insides go into overdrive at the sight of him.

“Charlotte?” he gasps.

I don’t want to go all weak in the knees during this first interaction, nor do I want my voice to give him any indication of what’s going on behind my passive expression. It takes some control, but mustering all the determination I have, I steady myself before I reply.

“It’s Charlie now,” I say, with as little emotion as possible. “No one’s called me Charlotte for years.”

And that’s the truth. When Troy up and left, there was a gaping hole inside of me, like he’d ripped something out of me and taken it with him. It took me nearly a year to get past that.

But at the end of that year, at the end of all the tears and the sorrow and the mourning, I was a different person. I’d grown, I’d matured, I’d been through a death of sorts. Then I reinvented myself. I was determined to get on with my own life. It took great effort to push the memories and the emotions deep down until I could see and feel them no more, but I did it. Eventually.

I’m still waiting for him to speak. Clearly, like me, he’s trying to process this moment. But I have an escape, and I have every intention of using it.

“Good catch-up,” I say flippantly. “I’ll see you later.” Before he has the chance to reply, I turn and jump into the car.

Hurriedly slipping the key into the ignition, I start the engine. Only, I don’t because the darn thing won’t start.

Of all the days! Are you kidding me?

The ignition turns over and over, but she just won’t fire, and I’m starting to panic. Not because I might be late for my client, but because I can see Troy moving across his garden in my peripheral vision.

“Start, darn you!” I yell at the dashboard. “You’ve caused me nothing but problems from the minute I bought you. I should have just gotten the Toyota.”

The panic rises as the seconds pass and Troy gets nearer and nearer. Frankly, I don’t want to have anything more to do with my new neighbor than absolutely necessary; the idea that he’ll end up being my knight in shining armor on the first day of our seeing each other again makes me feel sick.

But he’s near his gate now, and any second, he’ll open it and walk over to me. I know he knows what’s under the hood. He was always messing around with cars when he was younger. But the last thing I need is his help. The garden fence stands as a good barrier between us, and that’s exactly the way I want it to stay.

He’s yelling something, but I can’t hear him through the window that remains purposefully closed. He’s out of his gate and now on the sidewalk. One step. Two steps.

Start, you piece of junk.

And just as he reaches the end of my driveway, the engine fires into action, and I can’t put the shift into drive fast enough. Flying out of the driveway, I pin on a smile and blast past him. Catching sight of him in my rearview mirror, he’s still standing there when I reach the end of the street.

My heart continues to thump a few minutes later, even though the danger has passed. When I finally calm myself down, I heave a huge sigh.

This is going to be a nightmare of colossal proportions. A nightmare I really don’t need. I’ve only just gotten myself back together after Eddy tore my heart into pieces. I really don’t need any more heartache.

I look upward to the heavens, and with pleading eyes, I say, “Can you not cut me a break here?”

4

Troy

It was inevitable. We were going to cross paths at some point. And sure, I hadn’t exactly expected her to welcome me with open arms. But the fast and furious act as she flies out of the driveway leaves me feeling completely bewildered. So bewildered, in fact, that I stand on the sidewalk as if I’m in a trance, watching her car tear away until she eventually makes the turn at the end of the road.

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