Page 62 of His Hot Mess

“I thought you secured the chairs?” she said as she pulled the steering wheel to the right, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“I did!” I snapped. At least, I was pretty sure I did. I had been so distracted the past few days—after what happened with Chris—I honestly couldn’t remember.

Lucy was already upset that I’d chosen the wrong package at the chair rental place—36 instead of 48. Because of my screw-up, we’d had to take the white chairs instead of clear acrylic ones. Lucy had almost had a meltdown.

I wouldn’t call her a Bridezilla—she’d been surprisingly chill over the past few weeks, even for Lucy. She’d loved the vintage bridesmaid outfits I picked out for me to wear, and after being so worried about it, even struggled to decide which one to choose. She’d been cool as a cucumber when Mom called to advise she’d broken up with her latest boyfriend. She’d told Lucy not to worry, she was dating someone even better who she’d bring instead. Mom and Lucy had just started talking again last year and their relationship was still strained enough that it required pep talks from me on both sides. Somehow, Lucy was okay with Larry, who actually operated an airboat in the Everglades, coming up for her wedding.

But the white chairs, for some reason, had sent her.

It was probably because of the plates. The rental place didn’t have the plates Lucy wanted either. That one wasn’t my fault—the previous customer had gotten into an accident—they’d loaded up all the plates in the back of a hatchback and proceeded to back into a lamppost, the owner said. The person working today had only figured out the snafu this morning, as we were on our way. I’d managed to talk Lucy down, reminding her plates were easy. We could stop at Target in Millerville. Or even Walmart. Plain white plates were easy to come by.

She’d been okay with that. And I was happy to have fixed something for once, instead of screwing it up. But when I messed up with the chairs, Lucy just about ground her jaw into dust.

I had to remind myself the wedding was only a few days away—that it wasn’t her fault her stress levels were in the danger zone.

And that I was already sensitive because I was falling for a man who was clearly still in love with his ex. Worse, I was falling for a man period.

On top of that, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling Lucy was upset about the chairs becauseIhad screwed them up.

Both of us were silent as we approached Moriarty, where the rag yard was located. I’d already been once before to fill the racks at my store, but I’d wanted to make one more trip before I opened to make sure I had enough back stock. We’d decided to make this trip together, seeing as we both needed a big enough vehicle to complete our two errands. It was Graydon who’d suggested it, Lucy said when she texted me.

But it felt like neither of us really wanted to be together, and the pain of that truth hung between us like a dark raincloud ready to burst at any moment.

We still hadn’t really talked about the fight we’d had a few weeks ago. We’d tersely apologized for being short with each other and had exchanged perfunctory texts about things—wedding things mostly, and some updates on first the progress of my store renos and now my store opening, which, to my great shock and frayed nerves, was happening tomorrow night.

But we hadn’t gotten into what we’d been fighting about—the real meat of it. That she still thought I was a mess. That no matter what I did, she’d always look at me as someone she needed to take care of. To fix.

I wasn’t. My store was almost open. I hadn’t asked her for a dime to help get me there. My apartment was actually looking nice and neat—after the pink underwear incident with Chris, which I’ll admit, was worth him seeing my messy place for—I’d started making more of an effort to keep my place clean and stocked like an adult. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t perfect, but even Lucy’s eyebrows had gone up when she’d come by to pick me up this morning.

“Wow,” she’d said, looking over my neatly organized bookshelves, my freshly vacuumed area rug, and the rows of actually-alive potted plants lining my windowsills.

I should have been proud that I’d impressed her. Instead my irritation flared.

Now, as we drove in silence down the pretty country highway, fields of wheat and corn rolling by next to us, I thought I knew why.

Chris. Hooking up with Chris had been the worst mistake, outweighing the others ten-fold. It was worse because not only had I slipped straight into old Sadie’s patterns, for the first time, I’d messed up a personal relationship too. Lucy liked Chris. He was Graydon’s best friend—apparently, Graydon had let slip at dinner the other night before remembering he wasn’t supposed to talk about Chris, his soon-to-be partner, in front of me. After wincing at Lucy’s under-the-table kick, he must have decided he was in for a pound anyway, because he asked me if Chris was going to come to my store’s grand opening.

“How would I know?” I’d said, the words landing heavy and sharp on the table. The dinner had already been slightly awkward, with the absence of the usual banter between me and Lucy like a heavy shadow. Though maybe only Lucy and I felt it.

“He said he was thinking about stopping by,” Graydon said, stuffing a fry in his mouth.

I swallowed my bite of burger too fast, and it stuck painfully in my esophagus.

Chris at the store opening. I guess it made sense, hehaddesigned the place. He’d selected all the materials, with ‘help’ from me, if you called tagging along at the lumberyard and asking a million questions help.

My chest clenched at the memory of that day. Walking around with him at the lumberyard that day had been… perfect. All the other stuff that came afterward was its own beast, the closeness too painful to think about now. But that day, that afternoon, laughing and talking and walking around as if we were some kind of familiar couple who’d been together for years and did domestic things on the weekends—visiting the hardware store, buying cut flowers for the dining room table, talking about the ridiculous things the kids had gotten up to… that was special.

And it made my heart hurt.

“Is this it?” Lucy asked. I blinked and looked up. There next to us was a low-slung concrete building, part of a series of nondescript buildings just like it behind a tall, chain-link fence. I’d been so lost in thought I didn’t realize we were this close.

“Yeah this is it. You can pull in over there.” I indicated a section of fence two rolling gates were looped together with a chain and padlock. I checked my phone, which I’d almost forgotten at home this morning. I hadn’t though. I’d even fully charged it. I was getting better. Keeping my place clean was helping—I could usually find it quickly enough these days so I could remember to charge it. “They open in a couple minutes.”

Lucy looked at me aghast. “You came out here yourself last time?”

Last weekend Graydon had lent me his truck so I could pick up my very first ton of clothing. It had filled approximately three racks in the store. I needed a lot more—hence the truck.

“Of course,” I said. “What’s wrong with that?”

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