Page 66 of That Fake Feeling
“Hi,” says a surprised voice. “Towhat doIowe the pleasure on aSunday?”
“Yeah, sorry,Sandy,”Connorsays while passing a slow-moving tractor. “Iwouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t urgent.”
“Sure.LiketheSundayyou wanted me to call you at 7 a.m. with a fake emergency so you could escape brunch with some woman’s parents.”
“Thatwas forever ago.”Connorshifts in his seat. “Andyou got an extra week’s vacation for it.Can’tsayI’mnot fair.”
“Goon,”Sandysays. “Whatis it this time?”
“Ineed you to hit up someone from marketing or whoever deals with charitable donations.Andget them to organize a shit ton of toys forTheLearningVillageat…”Heglances from the road to me. “Whereis it?”
“WestHarlem.”
“Seriously,” he says to me, notSandy. “Wehave to go all the way up there?”
Oh, goody.He’spissed off about the location before we’ve even started.He’dbetter put on a good show tomorrow.
“Yup.”
Heraises his voice and directs it back at the phone. “Yeah,Sandy.It’sinWestHarlem.Ineed a boatload of toys there for whenIarrive at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”
“I’msorry?”Sandyasks, as if she’s hoping she misheard but really knows she didn’t. “Didyou saytomorrow?”
“Idid.And, yes,I’mirritated about it, too, but this needs to happen.”Hethrows me another look. “OrI’llhave breached the clause of a contract.”Helowers his voice so onlyIwill hear him. “Anotherone.”
Andthere we have it.Heobviously thinks he crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed last night and regrets it.Myheart curls in on itself.Itclearly missed the memo thatIwas already determined to completely ignore the kissing business and never let it happen again anyway.
“Goodgrief,Connor,”Sandysays with the tone of a disappointed mother. “IfIcan even get hold of someone from marketing, they’ll be furious.Youwant them to get that together on aSunday, for tomorrow morning?Withoutany notice?”
“Kicktheir ass.Ithas to happen.It’simportant.”Hepauses. “Toa lot of people.”
Atleast he’s taking the donation part of things seriously, though not seriously enough to have gotten it together before the last second.IhopeSandyis a miracle worker.
“Oh,” he adds. “AndI’llbe atTheLearningVillagetomorrow as well.Allfucking day.From10 a.m.Socancel everything.”
Hemight be okay with throwing money and toys at the project, butIguess he’s not so excited about the being-there part.
Sandysighs. “Well,Icertainly don’t work for you becauseIwant an easy life, doI?”
“Yougot it,” he says with the first hint of a smileI’veseen today. “Seeya.”
Igive it a second. “CanIhang up now?”
“Yes.Thanks.”
Idrop his phone back into the console, turn my face toward the green fields flashing by, and swallow past the growing lump in my throat.
* * *
“Aren’tyou going to park in the garage?”Iask asConnorbrings the car to a halt outside his house.
It’sthe longest sentence either of us has uttered since the phone calls toSterlingandSandy.Wepassed occasional pleasantries about the scenery and whetherConnorwould like me to hand him a drink or a snack, but that was it.Therewas no point me trying to make conversation.Heobviously wanted none of it.
Fortunately,Iwas so tired from my restless night thatImanaged to nod off for about an hour, so at least that killed some of the awkward time.
“I’mnot parking.”Connorlooks down at the gear stick as he fiddles with it. “Ineed to head into work to take care of some thingsIwon’t have time to do tomorrow because of theLearningVillagething.I’mjust dropping you off.”
Hedefinitely wants to avoid me.Thisis awful.Myidiotic behavior has now caused this terrible atmosphere between us. “Oh, okay.”
