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Perhaps he missed the sarcasm in my tone, because F-man—somehow, this works for my brain—sets me gently aside and marches to my room. A half-strangled gasping sound of mutilated despair echoes up my hallway as I fix my usual composed calm into place and tilt my head up at F-man’s massive guards.
“Jeff, Mark, doing well?”
Jeff smiles while Mark shrugs his giant, tattooed arms and grunts a so-so sort of reply.
F-man stomps back up my hallway, a hand with a pointing finger thrown out behind him. “There’s no bed in there!”
I drop my cheap smile. “I did say so.”
“You got the sarcastic tone right that time. I thought you were joking. Where do you sleep?”
I jab my thumb at my couch. The simple throw blanket over the armrest nearest the coughing AC window unit is probably nicely chilled by now, meaning it’s just about bedtime. Shame that I have unexpected company. “Sometimes,” I begin, wistful, “I pretend I’m a little homeless lass, curled up on one of those sofas country folk leave on their front lawns for weeks on end with a water-damaged FREE sign taped to the back cushions…”
All the peachy red undertones in F-man’s skin drain away, leaving his hair more orange than usual. “Marcella…”
“You know something?” I say, taking a step closer to him.
“I’m not sure I want to…”
The corner of my mouth tips up. “You’re more palatable when you aren’t smiling all the time.”
His throat bobs as red soars back up his neck. Softly, he says, “You aren’t the only one with a dedicated work persona, pumpkin.”
My nose wrinkles. “You ruined this moment with that nickname. This plot point is over. I’m going to couch now. Goodbye.”
His eyes widen a fraction, then his shaken concern melts into a gentle smile as he bites his bottom lip. “I hope you know I’m never letting you sleep here again.”
“I hope you aren’t suggesting you’ll make choices that would separate me from my emotional-support black mold. I think my lungs have grown dependent on it.”
His smile vanishes, and he frees his lip. Yippee. He says, “Surely now you’re joking.”
I show him under my kitchen sink and the wall above the shower. When he’s the silly, sad outline of a man who appears to have lost all sense of self, I say, “I’m planning to move out either mid-September or early next year. I’m just trying to decide whether I want a better apartment or if I want to house hunt. With how often you spring surprise trips on me, I need to craft a secure haven for my days and nights of blissful recharge. Having a house, somewhere that’s mine, may assist in those dreams. I have always wanted a butterfly garden, so I’ll need a yard.”
“Done,” he says.
I blink.
“Already done.”
My eyebrow arches.
Grasping my shoulders, he takes a deep breath. “I have a house ten minutes out of the city. It’s yours now. Bring Penny. Save Brigid. If she requires legal assistance, my lawyers will be in touch tomorrow morning. You’ll wake up to fresh coffee and a Publix cake. There’s staff, security, and a thriving butterfly garden. The centerpiece fountain that lights up is the only light around for fifty acres. You’ll be able to see the stars.”
I stare at this crazy, crazy man who seems to have decided my pukingly-content-to-be-married friend is in a toxic relationship. Sure, I joke that she should divorce her husband every other day because Cody is a monster who doesn’t like snakes, but that’s just, like, normal friend stuff.
No boy would be perfect enough for the goddesses that are my best friends. Period.
Freeing my shoulders from F-man’s grasp, I cough, soaking in the awkward vibes, probably because Jeff and Mark are lingering threateningly in my living room right now. You know. Within earshot and whatever. “You’re getting a little carried away and a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”
“There are police lights outside your window. Right this second.”
“That’s called ambiance.”
His eyes close. He spreads his fingers and takes a calming, long inhale. I hope it fills his rich chest with black mold. When his eyes open again, he’s doing that bright smile thing I abhor with every cell in me. “Pumpkin, I am so pro healthy relationship. I love communication. I’m very invested in treasuring, respecting, and upholding your opinions, values, and decisions. I want to cherish everything you care about and prove that I also care. Your body, your mind, precious. Your spirit, angelic. Your soul, invaluable. It is my honor to protect you and your peace in every way by employing kindness and consideration at every possible intersection. No means no.”
“Yawn. Can you get to the point before I throw up?”
“The point is, I am not fond of force, but you are absolutely never going to sleep here again. You are going to get in your car with your necessities, and I am going to escort you personally to my vacation home. Tomorrow, we’ll work on saving and moving in your friends.”
