Page 18 of One Pucking Heart

“It’s not hard to acquire things over the course of twenty years, and the thing about not having much is you never throw things out, afraid that you’ll need it someday. You keep everything because you won’t have money to buy it again if you need it later. You act like I was a hoarder,” she calls over her shoulder, pushing back a laugh. She takes a final stroll through the tiny place.

The apartment was clean, stylish, and organized, just as I imagined Elena Cortez’s home to be. More than anything, I’m surprised it’s taken us all day to move her. “I just don’t know where all this stuff was stored. This isn’t a big place.”

She emerges from the back bedroom. “When you don’t have a lot of space, you get very crafty when storing things.”

The bottom line is I allotted a couple of hours of my day to move Elena into my place—an error on my part. I’ve only moved twice, but I used a moving company both times, which could be another reason for my misperception. Why didn’t I pay for a moving company today?

She squints. “You look annoyed.”

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t realize it would take this long is all. I was going to go to the Tigers game tonight with some of the guys, but they’ve left.”

Baseball isn’t my favorite sport to watch. It’s much too slow and tame for my liking, but I try to support all the local sports teams regardless. Tonight was less about seeing the Detroit Tigers play and more about hanging with the guys. I’ve been stuck in my own little world, training my body and knee to get back into shape. I’ve seen a lot less of the guys than I normally do.

“I haven’t even moved in, and you regret it already.”

I groan, letting my head fall back. “Would you stop that already?”

With the last box in my grasp, I head out to the moving truck Elena rented. I have no desire to argue with her, yet again, about my choices. She’s sure I’m going to regret this fake marriage. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure. Elena’s a good person, and she needs help. I saw a solution, and I offered. End of story. Though, if I have to spend the entirety of this “marriage” convincing her I don’t regret it, it will get real old real quick. I’ve never been married, but I’d guess that married couples who spend more time fighting than making love aren’t that happy. Since Elena has made it very clear there will be no sex, I’m starting to get mildly nervous about the whole ordeal. We argue a lot.

Yet one thing that has always been true about me is that I do what I say I’m going to do, and I’m fiercely loyal. I made a promise to Elena, and I won’t go back on my word.

She joins me at the truck. “That’s it. We just have to swing by the office to drop off my key.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Elena puts the apartment key in a drop box outside the little hut-like office. It looks more like a storage shed than an office building, but she’s not checking out of The Grand. As we drive away from the complex, I’m relieved to see it in my rearview mirror. I look over at Elena and smile. I’m glad she’s out of that place and wish she’d never had to live there to begin with.

We pull into the storage facility and unlock the garage-like space she rented. Putting most of her things in storage seemed like the best idea. My condo is fully furnished and decorated. Besides her personal items and clothes, it didn’t make sense to move the rest in. Especially since she’ll be moving back out as soon as her old man is gone.

When we’ve finished securing the last twenty years of her life in the storage unit and returned the moving van, I plop into the front seat of my car with a sigh. “What a long day.”

“Moving is never fun,” she agrees.

I twist my head toward her. “What do you want to do now? We can stop by your father’s house. Make it official?”

“No. I made an appointment with his lawyers to get together next week. We can’t stop by unannounced.”

“Why not? He didn’t announce or give you any warning whatsoever that he was going to drop that bombshell of a letter on you at work? Plus, he’s your dad. You shouldn’t have to make an appointment to see him. I stop by my parents’ home all the time without warning.”

She scoffs. “Your parents and mine are vastly different. I could see that immediately at the hospital.”

“What? Didn’t you see my dad sitting in the corner working on his laptop?”

“He may have been working part of the time, but he was there. That says something, Beckett. My father wouldn’t have been there. Heck, he hasn’t been here. He’s never met his granddaughter, you know?”

“No, you’re right. I was just trying to say that my dad isn’t the warmest guy in the room, but I still stop by his home whenever I want. But trying to compare your father with mine was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It is what it is. I made my peace with it a long time ago.” Her lips turn up into a sweet smile.

She wears a white tank top and short jean shorts frayed at the edges. Her olive skin has gained some color, moving in and out of the hot summer sun today. The slightly darker hue makes her eyes seem brighter. From this distance, I can see flecks of gold in their brown depths, ones I haven’t noticed before. Long black lashes frame her doe eyes, and I have to look away. Sometimes she’s so beautiful that all I want to do is stare at her, but I can’t because it will freak her out.

And then we’ll be fighting, and she’ll be convinced I don’t know that this will end, and it’ll be a whole ordeal—one I don’t have the energy to deal with today.

“Okay, how about we get some food? I’m starving,” I say.

Her smile grows. “I could do food. I’m pretty hungry myself.”

I take her to one of my favorite Italian restaurants in Ann Arbor. It’s a nice place but casual enough that we won’t stand out in our moving clothes.

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