Page 66 of The Proximity Factor

I LAY ON MY BED and stared at the ceiling fan spinning around and around, bothered by the conversation Lanie and I had in the car about the expo. Also about how dusty the blades were on the fan. I didn’t know what was getting to me more: the fact that any part of her thought I would consider her as an impediment, or that I knew without a doubt no “real” VP of marketing or PR team would do half as good of a job as Lanie. All week I’d been interviewing social media and marketing manager candidates, and not one of them compared to Lanie, even though they had the degrees and experience to say otherwise.

The most frustrating part was, I felt as if I’d boxed myself into a corner. I wanted to come home to Lanie every night and talk through these things with her, get her take on the candidates, and vent my concerns. But that wasn’t fair to her. Worse, she wasn’t talking to me about her job either. We weren’t sharing huge parts of our lives, and I knew that wouldn’t lead us to a very good place. Just like I feared working together would eventually end in disaster.

I didn’t know what the right answer was. It didn’t seem fair to Lanie to tell her on one hand I didn’t want to work with her, but then turn around and tell her how frustrating it was I couldn’t find anyone to replace her.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it and saw Daphne’s name. Maybe she had the answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey, big brother. How’s it going? Am I interrupting sexy time?”

I wish. “I wouldn’t be answering the phone if you were.”

“That’s a good policy. Let’s keep it that way.”

“That goes both ways, I hope.”

She laughed. “Well, duh.”

“Moving on.” I didn’t need to think about my little sister being sexy with anyone. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in. One more week, huh?”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“You sound bummed.”

“Of course I’m bummed. I’m going to miss living with Lanie.”

“So, keep living with her.”

“You know it’s not that simple. For Lanie, that means a ring and legal documents.” For some reason I couldn’t say marriage, as if that would open a door. A door that scared the hell out of me since the last one slammed in my face.

“Great. Get the party started, then.”

I sat up. Surely she was jesting. “That’s not how it works. You need to know someone better before that happens. Remember that for yourself.” It was times like this I feared Daphne would call me from Vegas saying she was getting hitched, and there would be no time for me to stop it.

“Typically, but what more do you need to know?” She challenged me.

“First, I think we should know if we love each other or not.”

She spat out a laugh. “Oh, please. I talk to you both all the time. She’s in love. You’re in love, whether or not you’ll admit it.”

To be in love already would be tantamount to crazy. But Lanie was anything but typical, and she had me feeling crazy. “Has Lanie said she loves me?” Waiting for Daphne’s response, I felt like a schoolboy who’d sent a girl a note asking her to check yes or no if she liked me.

“She doesn’t have to. It’s obvious. She’s probably just waiting for you to say it.”

Was that true? Lanie was an open book and just said what she felt. It was one of the many things I really appreciated about her. “Well, she thinks she gets in my way,” I mumbled. That would probably put a damper on her blurting out her feelings, assuming she loved me.

“What? Are you screwing this up?” Daphne yelled.

“I’m not screwing up anything. We’re just working through some things.”

“What things?” Daphne demanded to know.

“The working together situation.”

“Oh.” That oh held a lot of meaning.

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