Page 99 of Loverboy
“Thanks, man.”
* * *
An hour later, I call Posy back.
“Gunnar,” she says, sounding surprised. “I regret leaving a long, pathetic message on your phone.”
“I don’t regret it,” I tell her. “There was nothing pathetic about it. Except for the part about your health department visit. Can I come over? There’s something big I want to show you.”
“You showed it to me already,” Posy says drily. “I’m already a fan. But maybe that wouldn’t be wise.”
“Wow.” I laugh. “Tough crowd here tonight. Can I please stop over?”
“In the first place,” Posy says. “Aaron and I are playing a vicious game of Go Fish. It’s just the two of us tonight. And in the second place, what’s the point? You hate New York. Is that going to change?”
“Well, probably not,” I admit. “Although I’m a fan of one part of New York—the part that’s wherever you happen to be.”
Posy is quiet for a second. “My life is here, Gunnar. Yours isn’t. That’s just reality.”
She sounds so sure. But I’m starting to understand that my solitary lifestyle is a choice, not an inevitability. And I’m finally starting to realize why people settle down with someone special.
Because when you find that special person, it’s really hard to walk away.
“Listen, this is important,” I beg. The truth is that I could send her the footage and be done with it. But that’s not good enough for me. I want to help Posy solve this problem. I want to be there when she needs me. “I just need fifteen minutes of your time.”
“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “I’m available to talk to you at eight-thirty.”
That must be after the kid’s bedtime. “Great. I’ll be there.”
After we hang up, I go outside and visit the bodega on the corner. I buy a dozen roses. They’re not as fancy as the flowers at a florist’s shop, but it’s the best I can do at the moment. It occurs to me that Posy is named after a flower, but nobody ever buys her any.
What does a posy look like anyway? I make a mental note to figure that out. And then I’ll hunt some down.
I’m a very stubborn man. Whatever I put my mind to, I can achieve. And impressing Posy is my new goal. I don’t really know what a future for Posy and I would look like. But I do know that she and I aren’t done. We can’t be.
30
Posy
Aaron doesn’t wantto go to sleep, because he overheard me telling Gunnar to come over.
“I haven’t seen Gunnar in dayyyyyys,” he complains as I tuck him into bed for the eleventy-billionth time.
“He’s not royalty,” I grumble. “And he’s just popping over to give me something. You’re not missing a thing.”
“But I liked it when he was here,” Aaron says.
Me too, kid. Me too.
Nevertheless, I adjust Aaron’s nightlight—which is shaped like a rocket ship—and show myself out.
Then I dash up the stairs and into my bedroom for a five-minute makeover. Just because I’ve accepted the fact that Gunnar is exiting my life doesn’t mean I want to look like a wreck while he does it. I put on a cute little scoop neck top over my jeans. I brush my teeth and my hair and put on some lip gloss.
Then I scrutinize myself in the mirror.
Nice going, that little voice says.Cute enough to make a point, but not trying too hard, either.
My phone buzzes with a text.I’m downstairs, but I didn’t want to hit the buzzer and wake up the kid.
