Page 53 of Wasted On Us

And then I’m thinking of mini-golf, and back massages, and late dinners, and my body shattering into a million waves of intense pleasure and—I have to cut myself off before I start sobbing on Eden’s leather seats.

“That will make me sad.”

“Tiramisu?”

Oh, great. Now I’m thinking about MateoandRick. Maybe I should never eat another Italian dessert ever again. I’ll convert to a strict diet of baumkuchen and apple strudel. Or maybe I’ll forgo desserts entirely, and only eat salads.

I can’t help the sigh that escapes. “Sadder.”

“I give up,” Ensley huffs, clutching the steering wheel.

“I can’t,” I blurt in exasperation, realizing that I’m no longer talking about what we’re going to eat this afternoon and am now thinking about the entire trajectory of my life. Maybe I should’ve just relented and gone for ice cream instead. I’d rather be choosing between butter pecan and cookie dough than trying to figure out my future. “It just feels like what I want to do with my life… it’s a job that doesn’t exist.”

“Then make it a job. Build a business. I don’t know. Do something.” Ensley throws her arms in the air, her elbow accidentally connecting with the center of the steering wheel and honking the horn. We both jump at the noise and then laugh at ourselves. It’s a nice break from the tension, and my sister relaxes a little, offering a little more kindness and patience in her words. “Getting involved in a project is the only way you’re going to get your mind off your broken heart.”

I point toward the middle of the road. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Ensley stares blankly, hand hovering over the steering wheel. “To… where?”

“I don’t know. Let’s at least get out of the neighborhood.”

As much as I want to argue with my sister, and as much as I’ve been wallowing in my own regrets this week, I can’t find any fault in what she’s said. The only way out is through. I keep trying to live my life through the paths that other people have set up for me. Maybe I just have to stop trying to follow the roads that aren’t taking me where I want and start forging my own direction. I’m not quite sure what that will look like, but an idea is already starting to form in my head.

Amid the gloom, this idea shines like a beacon, promising a sliver of hope. It’s not much, but it’s enough. With Mateo at arm’s length, life feels like a monochrome painting, bland and uninviting. But this concept... it’s a splash of color in a sea of gray. It’s a spark in the darkness, a new dawn breaking the night. It’s a small start, but right now, it’s exactly what I need.

I put a hand on my sister’s forearm and squeeze.

“Take me back.”

Ensley stops the car. We haven’t even left the neighborhood yet, only several yards from the security gate that leads to the main road. She turns to look at me, absolute exhaustion in her eyes. “We haven’t even eaten yet.”

“I know. I know,” I try to placate her with a wave of my hand. “I have an idea. I have to get back there. Let’s grab a pizza and then head back.”

“Wow. You must be onto something.” She takes the car out of park, starting to roll toward the gate again. “Pizza is code for an all-nighter.”

My head is so full of ideas that I barely register us driving to the pizza place. I even let my sister choose all of the toppings. The only one that we’ve ever disagreed on is pineapple, anyway. Ensley thinks it doesn’t belong on pizza. I think she just doesn’t know how to have fun. Both are probably true. I do ask that she order breadsticks, and she obliges me with a roll of her eyes. I don’t say a word the whole ride back to the house, using the time to think things over and try and form a coherent pitch to give my sister when we get back.

I wolf down a slice the second we walk through the door, then race to my room and grab my laptop. Nothing has ever felt this clear to me before. Not Rick, not Mateo. I think I feel so certain because this is finally about me and not about some guy or what my parents think. For the first time in my life, I’m finally making my own decisions. And if it takes all night to get going, then that’s what I’m going to do.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mateo

As different as I like to think I am from my father, we have our similarities, too. I can’t help but feel myself turning into him as I try to bury my heartbreak and pain under a mountain of work. It’s all I’ve done since Eden walked away from me. My sales at the dealership have gone up 50 percent. I’ve sold cars that have been on the lot for months, vehicles that no one thought would move.

Things between me and my father haven’t exactly smoothed over, but I can tell that he’s proud of me for how hard I’ve been working, even if he hasn’t acknowledged it. Something has changed inside of me. I feel so much older now. I feel like I’ve finally grown up, and that I need to take care of myself, rather than running around chasing skirts and playing games.

Almost everything in my past seems meaningless now.

Which is why, when I get a notification for an appointment this afternoon, I don’t think much of it. Everything has been such a whirlwind at the dealership that I assume it’s about financing a car. I have at least three clients I’m supposed to follow up with this week. I’m surprised to see it’s a request from my property manager instead. A potential tenant wants to do a rush showing, and Brian’s home with a sick kid wondering if I can step in on his behalf.

Since I don’t have any real bills to speak of while I’m living at my dad’s house, I’ve been stockpiling the majority of my wages from the dealership. A few years ago, a repeat customer got me into buying commercial real estate as an investment. It all started with an office building that went upside down and then on to a foreclosure auction. When the gavel fell, I got one hell of a deal on it. I’ve been renting the spaces out ever since, but because I’ve been using a property management company, I haven’t really ever had to think about it. Finding out that a potential tenant wants to walk through one of the spaces today feels particularly out of the blue since it’s not something I ever have to deal with.

I fire off a quick text to Brian letting him know I can be there and show the space, no problem.

When the potential client’s information comes through attached to an email, I’m surprised to find out it’s none other than Lorenson, Eden. I’d think it was some kind of trick if she hadn’t gone through Brian first and if he hadn’t spoken so highly of her business plan and the impression he got from her. Besides, my name isn’t anywhere on the property, only my LLC, and I never mentioned it to her before. There’s no way she could’ve known.

Satisfied that it’s a real meeting and not some kind of elaborate practical joke, I clear a space in my afternoon schedule, letting another salesperson handle my clients for the rest of the day. I make sure to stop for coffee on the way over to the building, grabbing Eden a latte just the way she likes it, in the hopes that such an olive branch will dull the shock of seeing me there. Part of me is afraid she’s going to take one look at me and go running full speed in the other direction.

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