Page 58 of The Best Laid Plans

The spreadsheets.

The obsession with ugly furniture.

The fact that she argued over every single decision I wanted to make.

The tulip bulbs that she only pulled up because she was annoyed with me.

The handcuffs.

Tansy waited until I stopped, then hummed thoughtfully. I was still trying to catch my breath.

“So,” she said slowly, “she’s exactly your type, then.”

“What? How do you know what my type is?” I asked, completely bewildered at the turn of this conversation. “I don’t talk about women to you.”

“You’re talking abouther. Pretty forcefully.”

“Youaskedme.”

“I’ve seen so many women throw themselves at you over the years that you played. Remember that end-of-the-season party you invited me to right before I met the ex?”

I grunted.

“You weren’t annoyed by their attention. It just didn’t register. You didn’t notice them at all.”

It was easy to ignore the women at parties like that, both when I was married and when I was single. I could’ve been swapped out for any single guy in a jersey and they wouldn’t have cared. An empty release with a woman I wouldn’t remember had never been my style.

It was easy to tell myself that, someday, I’d have the time to find someone.

Someday, I’d have the time to build a relationship, if that’s what I wanted out of life.

Build a home. Build a life that could fill it.

For all those years, I’d never been able to picture any of it—not even when I was married—so the absence of those things never really seemed to register either.

And I hated that Tansy’s pointed little barb about Charlotte—the myriad ways Ihadnoticed her—stuck right in the center of my chest.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I muttered.

“You’re embarrassed that she saw you naked when you weren’t expecting it. I get it, whatever, blah blah.” She paused. “Man the hell up and talk to her about it. Obviously she’s just as stubborn as you are, which could be a good thing or a horrible thing.”

“Horrible.”

My sister laughed. “Just talk to her. This is a stupid reason for the two of you not to get along. If I thought you’d listen, I’d encourage you to be honest. Vulnerable. Tell her you’re embarrassed because you think she’s beautiful and she saw your ding-dong when you weren’t ... ready.”

“Stop. I beg of you.”

“Fine.” She muffled the speaker on the phone to yell something at the twins. “I gotta go. Twins say hi. They’re begging me to take them up to Michigan to see the house.”

“Soon,” I promised. “The builder should be here any minute. I’ll know more about our timeline once I’ve had a chance to talk to him. Maybe later this summer, when we’ve made some progress.”

“Speaking of progress,” she said, “what about the link I sent you?”

“The yard was too small.”

Tansy was quiet.

I rolled my lips together. “I just ... can’t see myself there.”

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