Page 49 of Laugh

Chapter 18

Fixer Upper

Haddie

“Marcus, you should have seen him out there. Cap was incredible,” I say, tossing him a bottle of water before sitting on the couch. “He did the whole walking around with his hands on his hips thing with a clipboard tucked under his arm.”

I’m so relieved that Marcus didn’t cancel on me tonight. Granted, he was late showing up, but I overlooked it when he got inside and immediately curled up with an oversized crocheted blanket he brought along.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he opens up his drink and takes a sip. “I’m not sure walking around with a clipboard is what makes a coachgreat.”

I huff in indignation, ready to defend Beau until my dying breath. “He has awhistle!”

Now the ass is laughing outright, then chokes it back and nods solemnly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was at whistling status. But honestly, I think it’s really badass that you got to experience that with him.”

Sighing, I lean back and stare up at the ceiling. “It was really neat. But truly Marcus, the way he encourages them is so wonderful. He’s definitely strict and pushes them pretty hard. But when someone is struggling, he takes the time to explain what he needs and alters the suggestions to work within their personal strengths. It goes beyond just understanding the rules of the game. I imagine he must be incredibly intuitive and quick thinking to page through all of his knowledge.”

Poking my thigh with his toe, he smiles at me. “I’m really happy for you, Harry.”

Blushing, I twist the bottom of my shirt as his words lift me up. “Thanks,” I whisper. “I’m really happy for me, too.”

“Have you heard from your dad yet?” Marcus asks after we’re quiet for a moment.

I deflate at his question. “No. I think he’s really pissed at me this time. I did get one of those passive aggressive text messages from Deborah, though.”

Marcus’s eyebrow rises slightly, and he holds out his hand. “Gimme. I want to read it.”

With a quiet laugh, I unlock my phone and hand it over. “It’s extra special this time,” I warn.

“Oooooh, filled with gaslighting and everything?”

“You know it,” I tease with a wink.

I have the entire thing memorized and I recite it to myself as I watch Marcus scan his eyes back and forth across my screen.

De-BOR-ah: Harriet, I think we need to talk about what happened Saturday night. Things got out of hand, and I think all of us could have handled it better. The way you and your friend left without saying goodbye deeply hurt your father. Had we known WHO was coming to dinner, I don’t believe the evening would have gone the way it did. You should also know that Amber is crushed that you’ve essentially blocked her from an opportunity to get to know him better, considering she’s the reason the two of you even met. All I’m saying is, things could have gone better. I’m asking you to reach out to your father, apologize to him, talk things through, and maybe have that boy reach out as well, considering he was a guest in our home. Your father isn’t going to be around forever, so you should make the effort to fix the relationship. He’s done so much for you. I love you.

I can tell what parts Marcus is reading by the ever-changing expression on his face. He reads it once through then scrolls back to the beginning to read again. Taking this quiet moment while he’s absorbed in everything Deborah, I study him. I haven’t brought up the call I received from his mom over the weekend yet, but I plan to. Worry for my podmate has been circulating low in my gut ever since Mrs. O’Brien and I hung up the phone.

There’s somethingoffwith my best friend. He’s always been on the thinner side, long-limbed without having overly large muscles. Giggling to myself, I love the fact that he despises the gym just as much as I do. But it seems like he’s lost some weight he didn’t have to lose. His cheekbones are sharper, and his face is beginning to look a little gaunt. Almost like his aging process has been sped up by a decade.

Thinking back over the past few years, I consider that maybe I’m just looking for signs of something wrong, or something that’s not there, but I don’t think so. There are darkened circles under his eyes which coincide with his sharing that he hasn’t been sleeping well, and he’s borderline lethargic. No, there’s definitely something going on and I’m going to push him tonight to tell me.

Without looking up at me, Marcus mutters, “Spit it out, Harry. Your brain is working way too loudly right now, and you’re shaking the couch with your fidgeting.” He’s always been able to read me so well, and I snicker at the way he’s beaten me to the punch.

Opening my mouth to ask my questions, I stop when he hands my phone back to me and lays his head back on the couch. “Your dad married a bitch. I know I’ve said it before, but it deserves repeating.Nowyou may say what you’re itching to say.”

Chewing on my lip for just a second, I stare at him and pray that he takes this as seriously as I am. Then, I just suck it up and ask.

“There’s something wrong, but I don’t know what it is. I need you to tell me so I can help you fix it.”

Without lifting his head, he cracks an eye open to peek at me, giving me a lazy smile. “Harry, there’s nothing wrong.” He reaches out an arm and pats the top of my foot. “Nothing to fix, I promise.”

There. There it is again.I know for a fact that he just lied to me again. This is twice in a month after never happening foryears.

“I don’t believe you. Are you overworked or something? Do you have a secret lover that you’re afraid to tell me about?Oh!Have you started a new career as a man-of-the-night and all of your clients are keeping you awake into the wee hours of the morning? Are you sick?Are you mad at me?”

My last question comes out panicked because even though my questions were ridiculous, I’m realizing that all of them aren’t what’s going on. What if the reason he’s been distant is that I’ve done something wrong?

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