Page 28 of Trouble in Love
“And he dressed like he was drunk or high, but didn’t speak, walk or appear to be in any other way?”
“Right. Call him.”
“And you didn’t tell him my name or where I was?”
“Nope,” popping the P, she ran her hand down her weary face. “For the twentieth time, I told him nothing, not only because he is essentially a stranger, but because it’s your story to tell. I also wanted you to have another surprise to give him. Kinda like the photo you left on his phone, only less porno. If you don’t believe me … call him.”
“Call him?” I snapped, ignoring her exaggerated wink. “Why do you keep insisting I call him? Are you nuts? There is a snowflake’s chance in hell I’m calling him. A second hotel room hookup is one thing. Going to the guy’s house, meeting his friends, or him coming to meet mine is a whole other thing.”
“Normally I would agree. But Pol, we’ve been talking about one message for an hour. He’s come from America to Sydney,randomly met you in a bar and is now staying in freaking Byron. Don’t you think that’s fate?”
That wiped the smile off my face.
“Fate? The same fate that had him losing his phone? That pushed Mum in the back, so she’d smash her femur all to keep us apart this weekend. Did you think about all that? No, you didn’t. This is a freakish coincidence, at best. Also, I live in Ewingsdale which is just outside of Byron.”
“Pfft. Since when? I have never heard you say any place other than Byron.”
“That’s because I’m vapid and like to namedrop Byron because people think I’m rich. No one even knows where Ewingsdale is.”
“Good point,” Luna said with her infamous, ‘I’m pissed at you’ tone. “Come to think of it. Why didn’t I know your part of town is called Ewingsdale, and why in our over two years of friendship, have I never been invited there? Is it because I’m deaf? You and your parents got something with deaf people?”
“Please.” I scoffed. “Don’t play the deaf card with me. You know my grandma was born deaf. That’s why I volunteer withyouas an interpreteratan organization to supportthe deaf.”
“Fine. Then why?”
Because I think I like him.“For fuck’s sake, Loon. You know I have my worlds strictly compartmentalized. Home is home. Sydney is Sydney. Work is work. Play is play. You and this … thisLucaare firmly planted in the Sydney play pot. There is no cross-pollination. There can be no blurring of those lines, crossing of fences, or migration between worlds.”
‘You’re mixing your metaphors, Pol. And you’re full of shit.And…” she said, jabbing her finger into the screen, “you’re wrong. Luca isn’t in the Sydney box, field, or pot. He’s in Byron. And you’re in Byron. That makes him the same pot. Your home pot.”
Home.The thought of my Cowboy, of Luca, setting foot inside these walls sent a shiver down my spine, and not the type I got when Mum called me. It was a good one. A thrilling one.
That’s why Luca would never come here.
My stomach lurched with disappointment. “Sorry. It’s just too good … to be, I mean. It’s just too risky. Besides, Mum will be home from hospital in a day or two, and she would flip the fuck out if she caught wind. Not to mention that Holly and Piper have to get back to Sydney. I have to help Dad at the pub and home, and this morning while I was burning his toast, he let slip that Mum’s shipping in that guy, the long-lost cousin from Greece. I’m about to be married off.” Luna’s gasp failed to halt my words. “American hockey coaches or players, no matter how sexy, can’t fit into my world.”
“Which world, since you have so many?”
I sighed, and like I should have done that first night, officially, and silently, said goodbye to my cowboy. “None of them.”
The weight of disappointment I refused to acknowledge bore down on me during my first shift back behind the bar. That stale beer smell that clung to the rugs and invaded your nostrils, the task of refilling germ-ridden nut bowls, handing out menus to the same people who ordered the same damn thing every damn time, and tapping kegs—all of it rolled into a confusing, complex paradigm of comfort, fear, shitting-my-pants-level anxiety, and a cozy familiarity that I found grounding. My skills came flying back with only one or two headless beers pulled.
Loyal patrons I hadn’t seen for years welcomed me with kisses, cuddles, and words of praise. There were plenty ofquestions, too. But for the most part, their words were positive, which was surprising. By the same token, my tolerance for the bullshit those same regulars were spurting by night’s end was minimal.
The one thing I dreaded most—seeing Nate and Evie—didn’t happen. From what I understood, despite it being their closest pub, and Nate’s former favorite, the Austin-Myers gang refused to set foot in or near the family establishment. Thank the lord because this morning’s visit to Mum had been character test enough.
Holly, Piper, and I timed our trip to perfection. She had just come out of recovery, and by all accounts should have been drugged to the eyeballs and weak as a kitten. But no amount of anesthetic or class-A pain relievers could numb my mother’s contempt or blunt her razor-sharp tongue … when it came to me. As always Holly could do no wrong. Those childhood insecurities that haunted me into adulthood, were reinforced as I listened to an hour-long fuss-athon. Holly’s appearance was praised, her motherly skills commended, and every anecdote adored. The only contentious issue involved the young family’s diet. But once convinced neither she nor Piper were underweight, Mum bestowed her final blessings and ordered Holly to return to her husband in Sydney.
Within seconds of their departure, my mum’s gaze was fixed on me. “At least I don’t need to worry about your weight, Plop. You look like you’re in a good paddock. Are you eating all the food your sister doesn’t?”
“No Mum.” I sighed, shifting in my seat to hide my stomach, “I’m actually the slimmest and fittest I’ve ever been.”
“Huh, maybe that’s what it is. All that working out is adding unfeminine bulk. Muscles weigh more than fat, you know. You’ll never land a husband if you let yourself go again.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t want a husband. I’ll even make sure I increase my weights. Might even ask the trainers for the most un-feminizing exercises I can perform.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mum scoffed. “Un-feminizing isn’t even a word. Besides, I’m sure the trainers have more important people to look after.”
Right.
