Page 40 of A Small Town Spring

I pause.She’s got me.“So, I think I mentioned this guy who’s staying in my house in Rosedale?Toby.”

“You mentioned him.He’s the one who broke up with his girlfriend and needed a place to stay.”

“Yeah.So.I think—I mean, I know how I feel about him.I’m into him.A lot.Like, from the moment we met, storybook stupid over him.”If anyone should understand being struck by Cupid’s arrow at first sight, it’s Luce.

“When he had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.So I told myself to get over it.But I haven’t.And he doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore.And we’re going to dinner tomorrow and I was thinking—maybe it could be a date?But if I ask him and he says no, is it going to be too weird?I don’t really want him to stop living with me.”

“Is this Toby person even interested in men?”

“Yes.He’s bi.”

“I guess that makes things a little easier.”She’s silent for a moment.“So you like him.A lot, whatever that means.You’re living with him part-time.You want to date him.But if he doesn’t want those things—you’d still want to give him a place to live?Don’t you think that’s kind of?—”

“Pathetic?”

“Unlike you, is what I was going to say.You normally don’t have trouble cutting off people who aren’t vibing with you anymore.”

“It’s not that easy.He’s a friend.He’s friends with my friends.There are stakes here, Luce.”

“And you want to know if you can risk telling him how you feel?”She whistles low.“I don’t know.Your life has more drama than Mom’s stories.”

“I’ve been so drama-free lately,” I insist.“I haven’t been dating at all.”

“Wow, you really like him.Is he hot?”

“He’s beautiful.”

“Pic?”

I pull up a photo I took of Toby, with his permission, cuddling Luna on the armchair in the living room a few weeks ago, his blond hair messy and rimmed with light coming through the window, his feet bare, the cat in his arms accentuating the lean lines of his muscles.He has a smudge of blue paint on his elbow and a smile on his face.I send it to her so she can see the trouble I’m in.

She whistles again.“Damn.Okay.I’m actually impressed you haven’t tried to get with him yet, honestly.”

“It’s not just about that.”

“Oh, Kingston.”She sounds almost sorry for me.

I sigh.“I’m deluding myself, aren’t I?”

“You’re going to have to decide what’s more important to you.Keeping him as a friend or being honest about what’s in your heart.”

It scares me that she thinks I can’t have both.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“Hey, if it works out, bring him with you to Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, maybe.I’ll let you know.”

But as I end the call, wake up my computer, and scroll through all the romantic bistros on the Upper West Side, I know that’s not going to happen.I’m not going to tell him how I feel.It’s too risky.

On the other hand, there is something I can offer him.I’ll bring it up at dinner, which we’ll have at some safe, well-lit place.And I’ll put fresh sheets on my bed for him while I sleep on the couch.He’s my friend.I’m not going to mess that up by pretending I can have it all.

Twenty

My resolve tokeep things with Toby on firmly friendly footing (say that three times fast) lasts until our second glasses of wine and the delivery of our entrees.I chose an Italian place I’ve never been to about halfway between the gallery and my apartment.The fact that Italian is Toby’s favorite had nothing whatsoever to do with my decision.

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