Page 8 of Acting Merry
She leans against the door jamb and lifts a hand to wave. “Have a good night, Cole.”
“You too, Reese’s Pieces.” As I walk to my car and the door shuts, I can’t help thinking my fake, extremely short-lived relationship with Reese has been my best dating experience thus far.
three
Reese
There’smail for Cole in my box for the next three days in a row. I set it in what’s become his spot on my kitchen counter, then pull up the text thread with him. His number isn’t saved, and the only message there is the link he sent to the Home Depot website.
I haven’t ordered the part yet, but Ihaveset a new, bigger cup under the sink to catch the water. I’m a regular Chip Gaines over here. Money isn’t exactly oozing from my pores after the costs of buying a house, though, and Cole said it wasn’t urgent, so I’ll make do with the cup for now.
I do a quick Google search, then copy and paste a link into the text thread.
Reese
Thought this might be helpful
The link is to the USPS site for address forwarding.
A few minutes later, my phone lights up on the counter.
Cole
Been there, done that. Days ago. Just like I said I would *winking emoji*
I snap a photo of the pile of mail and attach it to my next text.
Reese
My counter begs to differ. See Exhibit A.
Cole
Must be a delay in forwarding. Let’s get that counter cleared off, though. I’ll swing by tomorrow after work if that’s okay? I found a spare seal I can bring for the kitchen sink.
I’m far too willing to agree to this plan. Cole is attractive, charming, and fun—the devil’s trifecta. He’s picking up his mail, so the stakes are low. Besides, after the distinct downer of Brady ending things with me only to start them up with Megan, I could use twenty minutes of charm.
Megan’s response about driving to the cabin together was to tell me she’d get back to me about it. I don’t know what my next move should be. The ball is in her court. I have no intention of letting Brady ruin our friendship, but I’m not the only one with a say here. All I can do ismake it clear that I won’t be the one making things weird.
Am I a little hurt over everything? Sure. But it seems silly and territorial to make a big deal out of it. So I won’t. This weekend at the cabin will provide the perfect opportunity for me to make that clear to her. We’ll spend some quality time together and shore up our friendship to the tune ofMistletoeby Justin Bieber, her favorite Christmas song.
On my lunch break at work, I get a text from Hannah asking if we can chat about final details after I get home. Our office stays open until six on Wednesdays to accommodate people who can’t take time off work. My last patient, however, is a retired woman in her 70s named Laney.
Ever since I started working here, Laney’s requested me as her hygienist. She’s a jabberer, which makes my job…interesting. One skill you develop working in a dental office is understanding people who have their mouths open and full of equipment. I’m absolutely unbeatable at Mad Gab.
“How’s that boyfriend of yours?” Laney asks.
Sidebar: I’m not the type to disclose personal information to my patients, but Laney always manages to weasel things out of me—probably becausesheovershares, so I feel bad dodging all of her questions.
To be fair to myself, I never claimed Brady was my boyfriend. I just told her I’d started seeing someone.
“Oh, he wasn’t my boyfriend,” I say. “But we’re not seeing each other anymore.”
“Kicked him to the curb, did you?” she replies with a wink.
I smile. “Something like that.”
“Hope you haven’t been wearing the willow for him.”
