Page 121 of The Love Destroyers

“Ellie, where’s the information you have?” I call out before she can leave.

She taps her head, which isn’t encouraging. Knowledge is important, maybe crucial, but only evidence will bring him down. The door swings shut behind her, and I have to wonder if I just made an enormous mistake.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

SEAMUS

I want to take the car out onto the Blue Ridge Parkway and take the turns thirty miles over the speed limit.

I want to drive to Atlantic City and spend the night gambling away the money I got from the Honey Do jobs.

I want to drink and drink and drink until I forget why I’m upset and what my name is.

But I promised her I wouldn’t, and I want my word to mean something.

Since Emma left yesterday, I’ve been sitting around this apartment, taking care of the rabbit and watching terrible movies with Chuck, who hasn’t stopped talking. My sister and brother “stopped by” last night to bring us dinner, and Rosie filled up every silence Chuck didn’t. Finally, everyone went away, and I could lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and not sleep. This morning I got up and had some coffee, feeling like both things were an accomplishment.

Chuck announced he was going to spend the day with me, but the movie he picked was so bad I finally looked at him and asked, “You did this on purpose to motivate me to get off my ass, didn’t you?”

He grinned and told me he had no idea what I meant.

But it worked well enough.

I’m in the garage now, putting some wax on Ingrid. We’re expecting one last snow in a couple of days, and I want to keep her looking fine.

I’m still working on her, my earbuds blasting metal, when a dark-haired guy in a band T-shirt sidles up in front of me and waves. I’m not in the mood for small talk, so I think about waving back and keeping at it, but something has me taking my earbuds out.

“She’s a beauty,” he says, nodding to Ingrid. “I’ve been wondering who the owner was.”

“Thanks, man. It took a while to get her there, but I’m happy with how she turned out.”

“No, shit, you did this yourself?” he asks, whistling through is teeth. He looks excited, like hearing it hopped him up. “What’d she look like to start?”

I pull out my phone and scroll back to when I got my girl.

He whistles again, his gaze pinging between the photo and Ingrid. Then he sticks out his hand. “I’m Hank.”

“Seamus,” I say, shaking his hand. It’s a good shake, not the kind that’s meant to bend your bones, but firm.

“Is this a hobby for you, man?”

“Yeah,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “I got a job at an oil change place, starting next week, so it’ll be a while before I can get a new project car to work on.”

“Man, am I pleased to meet you,” he says, rocking on his feet, his eyes bright with excitement. “Look, my best friend owns a car restoration garage. He lost one of his guys to retirement, and if he saw what you did to this car, he’d hire you on the spot. Will you talk to him?”

A buzzing feeling forms under my skin. Some part of me feels like karma’s been biting me in the ass, deservedly, and that’swhy I lost Emma and visited the emergency room twice in the past week.

So how can I account for this?

Chuck, and Sophie’s aunt would probably say I’d manifested it, but I don’t buy that. It’s been a while since I felt any sort of excitement about the future. Longer since I dared to reach for something. Even when I was spending time with Emma, I knew it would probably end, and badly, so I should enjoy it while I could. The future was always Future Seamus’s problem, and I figured he could go fuck himself. But this…

Working on cars like Ingrid daily would bring me pleasure. It would be a dream, even if I have to swallow the pill of doing it for a bunch of old rich guys who don’t know what to do with the beauties they’ve bought.

I scratch the back of my neck again, thinking about all the roads that have led me here.

It all comes back to Emma. I wouldn’t have left New York if not for her. I wouldn’t be here, having this conversation. I’d be back in the city, miserable and alone, doing oil changes, and getting drunk with people who were only friends for the night, not forever.

But Hank’s still waiting for an answer, so I make myself nod. “Yeah, I’d be interested. Very interested.”

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