Page 3 of Acting Merry
To really recognize her, though, I’d need her to open her mouth Steven Tyler-wide, and as a rule, I don’t ask people to do that outside of the dentist’s office.
“Can I help you?” I ask, clutching my phone like it’s a brick I may need to use to protect myself.
The passenger window of the car rolls down, and another woman leans over from the driver’s seat. “Who’sthat?” she yells.
Porch Woman turns her head. “Who do youthink? His new girlfriend.” The last word drips with resentment as she aims her dagger eyes at me again.
“I’m sorry—what?” I haven’t been this confused since my realtor tried to explain reverse mortgages.
“Here.” She throws the lump at me, and I try to dodge it.
Too slow to dodge, the hunk of fabric hits me in the face, along with men’s cologne. It’s cedar, and…something I would trade out my beloved Christmas candle for in a second.
I pull the fabric off my head and find myself holding a gray sweatshirt.
“But just so you know,” the woman says, as though we’re picking up in the middle of a conversation. She takes a step toward me, and I get the slightest whiff of alcohol.
My body wants to retreat, but if this woman thinks she’s gonna backwalk me into my brand new house that I paid for with my very own money? She picked the wrong house. The wrongwronghouse.
I hold my ground and meet her gaze.
“One day,” she says, “when he’s bored of you, he’ll toss you into his dumpster fire of hearts along with the rest of us.”
Do I laugh at the imagery or applaud it? I have a whole list of other things I want to say first. Things like “Get off my porch” or “Thank you for not throwing a grenade at me” or “What brand of celestial cologne is on this sweatshirt?” But first I need to know who we’re talking about.
“Comeon, Bree,” the other woman calls out from the car. “I told you this was a bad idea!”
“He left his sweatshirt at my house, Nina!” Bree says. “Which means he wanted to see me again. Right?” She looks to me for corroboration.
I open my mouth wordlessly, but leaving a personal object behindisa classic move.
“Except that he ghosted you after,” Nina yells.
Those definitely feel like mixed messages. I can see how this woman would be confused.
“He doesn’t deserve you fighting for him,” Nina adds.
I glance down the street, wondering if we’ve attracted an audience of my neighbors yet. I was kind of hoping to start those relationships off with a plate of cookies rather than a shouted debate between strangers, but here we are.
“I get that you really liked him,” Nina says, “but it was just two dates.”
Whoa whoa whoa. I stare at the woman standing in front of me and try to add this piece to the puzzle of an increasingly bizarre interaction.
Two dates? Two dates?! I guess heartbreak doesn’t check the calendar.
“Yeah,” Bree shouts back at her friend, “I didn’t think he’d already have a girlfriend!” Her gaze shifts back to me, and she studies my face for a second. Her eyes narrow and her forehead wrinkles. “I can’t believe he pickedyou.”
I blink and rear back.
Hold on a second, now. Whyshouldn’the pick me? Whoever “he” is.
I may not know his name, but at least I wouldn’t rockup to the wrong house like an incompetent stalker after only going out twice. No wonder Bree got confused about where he lives. I know almost as much about this man as she does.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, unable to help myself. She’s known me all of three minutes. She’s known…whoever…for two dates.
She crosses her arms and gives a little laugh, looking away as though I’ve asked the world’s dumbest question, and she can’t bring herself to state the obvious. “Just…consider yourself warned: Cole Bradley is a heartbreaker. Through and through.”
Wait, what?
