Page 39 of Sliding into Love
Either way, I can't stop myself from going in the store, grabbing the stuffy from the display, and paying for it. I don't even realize Carmen has followed me inside until she clears her throat and gives me a stern look.
I shake my head and snatch the bag off the counter, wincing, as it makes me look like some pompous asshole.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
The guy behind the register shrugs a shoulder. “Eh, it happens. Wives can be annoying, I get it.”
Carmen and I both gasp, our hands pressing to our chests.
“Oh, absolutely not,” she shouts. “This is my sibling.”
I grunt. “Yeah, my sister is totally not my type.”
We spin around and rush out of the store, grumbling about how someone could possibly ever assume that we're anything more than siblings.
It's not until we wind up near the food court that Carmen remembers where we were when everything happened.
“Okay, you need to spill about the whole stuffed animal thing, although it's not an animal. Is it just called a plush? I don't know the technicalities of this, and I really should, considering baby Lee.”
“Yes, you really should, sister. Why don't we sit and have an entire discussion about the difference between stuffed animals, plushies, and stuffies. I bet we can even get Finn on the phone. Maybe Atlas and Raymond too. Hell, let's call Timothy, get the whole gang involved.”
I whip out my phone, intending to do just that, but she stops me with a hand covering the screen. She stares into my eyes when I look up at her.
“Whatever is going on will be fine, Royce. Sit down, tell me what's happening. Then we'll get food and all will be better. Trust me,” she pleas.
I drop into the chair at the empty table a few feet away from us, and she sits across from me. We pile our bags onto the table beside us, so no one sits there.
It's not busy enough for it to be a mean type of thing. More like these siblings need space because we're about to have oneof the most intense conversations we've had since our teenage years.
I don't waste any time diving into the story. I don't dare say that it's Kenneth, but I do explain that it's someone I'm now involved with for work and how it's complicated.
Carmen listens closely, nodding along and holding back her questions until the end.
“Why is it such a big deal for you to like this person?” she asks as her first question.
I tilt my head to the side. “Because we work together. Because there's history there, and it's not good history. I shouldn't want to be with him, like at all. I shouldn't even be nice to him.”
“But you are,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“I am, he's just…” I lean back in the chair and cross my arms. “He's just so damn likeable. There's nothing wrong with him. It's really fucking frustrating.”
Carmen giggles, leaning over the table.
“You have a crush on this person, and there's really nothing stopping you except your preconceived notions about what you should be doing. If you relied on preconceived notions, you would never wear half the things you do. You would have cut your hair years ago, and you would never touch a drop of makeup again. Am I right?”
“You are,” I say, petulantly.
“Then why is this any different? Don't let some notion you had when you were younger keep you from the possible love of your life.”
I slap my hands on the table.
“How could you say such a thing? You've just put this out into the universe. Take it back.”
She mimes zipping her lips and shakes her head.
“I absolutely will not. You have never been this attached to a person. Not someone who wasn't in the family, not romantically. I, for one, want to see you happy. And if it's with someone who is somewhat unlikely, then who cares?”
“Who cares?” I repeat. “Who cares?! I care. How am I ever supposed to stick to my guns and be the petty bitch that I thrive to be if I don't hold steady to this one thing? It should be simple.”
