Page 33 of Houston, We Have a Problem
“Cocky, much?”
I roll my eyes. “Just realistic. All I’d have to do is tell them I threw the winning pitch at the World Series and they’d be all over me. But not Darcy. She barely even knows anything about baseball and didn’t have a clue who I was when we met.”
Nodding, Kit thinks that through. I’m not sure what insights he could have with just that. “So, she’s a challenge.”
“I guess.” Except, it wasn’t a challenge to hold her on the patio and talk about scorpions and superstitions. It wasn’t a challenge to tell her about my various business endeavors, something I haven’t even told Kit about beyond his wife’s bookstore. In fact, being wholly myself around Darcy is easierthan anything’s been in a long time, and that has to mean something.
“I know you think otherwise,” Kit says with a chuckle, “but I can’t actually read your mind, and I feel like there’s a lot happening in there.”
Instead of explaining the swirling thoughts floating around in my head, I pull up my conversation with Darcy—at least, I really hope it’s Darcy, though she didn’t actually say—and shove the phone into Kit’s hand.
He reads quickly, and I know the exact moment he gets to my absurd “I like you” text because his eyebrows shoot up, followed quickly by him trying not to laugh. “Sorry,” he says as I snatch the phone back. “I think it’s cool that you just went for it.”
“Yeah, but she clearly doesn’t want our relationship to go that way. She even told me the other night that most of her friends have been guys, and I’m pretty sure that means she only sees me as a friend.”
“You don’t know that. It’s hard to infer meaning in a text. Have you asked her out?”
“I did tonight.” Though, she might have seen it as more of a hangout than a date because that’s exactly what it would have been. “She said she had to work. Whatever data control is, I hate it.”
Kit chuckles again, and I don’t even care at this point that my life is so amusing to him. I just want him to fix it. He’s only a couple of years older than me, but he got to the marriage thing after a bit of a rocky start between him and Skyler. Their whole relationship had been fake until the point Skyler got scared of her real feelings and pushed him away. Pretty sure that lasted like half a day before Kit had her completely in love with him again because that’s how good he is. If anyone can navigate complicated, he can.
As if reading my thoughts—no matter what he says, I’m still convinced he can do that—Kit studies me for a moment and then says, “Do you know why Skyler and I worked?”
“Because your entire relationship was based on a lie?” I quip.
Kit doesn’t even flinch. “Because we were friends before anything. I trusted her with my darkest secrets, just like she did with me, and we didn’t have any of the pressure of a romance getting in our way.”
“I’m sorry, but are we forgetting that time I found you two making out on the couch?” Even when they had been fake engaged, they’d been nauseating.
“Sky brings out the best in me because she knows me better than anyone. If a woman you’re interested in doesn’t do that for you, it’s probably because she doesn’t know you.”
Skyler bursts through the door just then, loaded with not only a steaming plate of cheese fries but a couple slices of cheesecake and what looks like a tankard full of soup. “It’s time to go, Morgan.”
Kit’s eyes go wide as he takes the soup from her. “What—”
“Don’t question it, just get in the car before the owner changes his mind about giving this all to me for free. Good to see you, Houston!” Then she’s gone, disappearing around the corner toward the restaurant where we parked.
I meet Kit’s eyes. “You know your wife is terrifying, right?” I feel like I can say that because we’re only related through marriage, anddistantly.
“Oh, I know,” Kit says, and then he gives me a salute and follows Skyler. He throws one last piece of advice at me before he steps out of view. “Let Darcy know you without any strings attached, or you’re never going to know if what you’re feeling is infatuation or love.”
Love? I make my way back into the tavern as that word bounces around inside me. I have known this woman for less than a week, and if this heartburn-like feeling in my chest is an indication of the inklings of something as frightening as love, I’m in big trouble.
By the time I get home, I’m ready to shut myself off from the world and never come back out until things are back to normal. It was so much easier when I had nothing holding me back in baseball, and my dating life was straightforward and easy, and my best friend and my sister were people I could count on to be predictable.
I just saw Jordan kissing Brook, and not in an “it was nice to see you, buddy” kind of way. Nope. It was an “I can’t get enough of you and this isn’t the first time I’ve kissed you” kind of way. It was a “drop my to-go container of nachos when I see it” sort of kiss that has been replaying over and over since I went back inside Grey Bird to order some food for Darcy. I was too much of a coward to confront them about it and instead gathered up my nachos and high-tailed it home.
How long have they been together? A week? Or has it been months of making out behind my back and pretending nothing is happening?
Honestly, all I can think about is how Kit was right about them so he’s probably right about everything else. I should really be more bothered by this Jordan thing than I am, but I probably don’t have the capacity to worry about anything else when my life is already a steaming pile of garbage.
Apparently I’m getting dramatic in my old age, something Brook told me as we were leaving the restaurant after dinner. But whatever.
It’s late enough when I finally unlock my front door that I know I should just go to bed and deal with all of these emotions I’m feeling in the morning. But I get stupid when I’m tired, so I don’t make it past my living room before I send a text to Darcy. I need the distraction as much as I’m desperate to see her.
Me: You up?
I curse, grit my teeth for letting the swear slip, and then type out another text before I get the cops called on me for being a creep toward my tenant.
