Page 81 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
Bibi rolled her eyes. “No. That was you, when you turned up here, you jerk. What it’s telling me is that he’s scared.”
“That’s what I said to him. I just told you.”
“Yes, I know. But think about it for a moment. Try to take the heat out of it, even though it’s difficult.
“Arlo got seriously hurt by a younger guy, bad enough to make him abandon his career and the business he built up and move across the country to come back home. He’s returned to lick his wounds, which was what you came here to do, too. He’s told himself he won’t let himself fall in love again, because number one,” Bibi said, counting on her fingers, “he equates love with heartache and heartbreak. Love means failure, and who wants to fail? Number two, that long-term relationship he poured himself into, that ended up crashing and burning and leaving him like a piece of wreckage? It was with a guy who was a lot younger than him.”
“How do you know all this?”
Bibi’s lips tilted into a small smile. “This is Collier’s Creek. Everybody knows everybody’s business even if they think they don’t.”
Lucian cringed at the idea anybody could know about his sorry business. “But what’s that got to do with me? I’m not Tony, and he’s not me. I told him that, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“I know, but deep down he’ll be scared of getting caught in that whole shit storm again. Sure, it’s not logical, but when has emotional fear ever made any sense?”
“Emotional fear?” His world had come crashing down, but Lucian couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips. Bibi sounded just like his mum.
Bibi shrugged. “It’s why, ever since he came back to town, he’s been keeping his distance. He’s smiled and been nice as pie as he’s thrown back all those eager advances that have come his way. It’s because he’s afraid. Look at all those guys Francine’s lined up for him? My goodness, that woman has the most terrible eye for men — excluding Hank, of course — so it’s no surprise there was never anything more than a handshake and a how d’ya do. And then you come along, throw a pitcher of beer all over him, and his world’s turned upside down again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, Luci. Do I have to spell it out for you? You’re everything he’s told himself doesn’t work for him. You’re a walking, talking, breathing, living failure.”
“You think I’m a failure? Thanks, Bibi, thanks a fucking lot.” Arlo had kicked his legs out from under him, and now the woman who was supposed to be his friend was stamping on him in her six-inch heels. “I think it’s time to re-open the shop.” He got up, only to be pushed back into his seat.
“No, you’re not a failure. You weren’t listening to me. Failure is what you represent to Arlo. You’re everything he’s told himself not to get involved with, but he forgot all that the moment he saw you — until something or someone reminded him, and fed that fear which for a while he forgot all about.
“Do you remember what I said to you, weeks and weeks ago, when you told me he wanted to keep what was happening between the two of you to friendship?”
Lucian shook his head. He could hardly remember his own name.
“I said you’d be here for when the snow came, but you’d be gone by the time it’d melted. Make him believe that won’t happen. Because that’s what he’s fearing. Arlo wouldn’t have woken up one morning and decided that was it for the two of you. I’ve seen you together, Luci, and I can tell you that man was head over heels. And he still is, even if he’s telling himself and you something different. He loves you, I just know it.”
“Then he’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“Something stopped him in his tracks. Maybe more than one thing, and he’s put them all together and come up with some dumbass number that’s all kinds of wrong. If you want to shoot for any kind of future with him, find out what’s spooked him and then kill it dead.”
“Loves me? You think?” Lucian shook his head, blinking back the fresh tears stinging his eyes as he pushed himself to standing.
He couldn’t talk about this anymore, but there was one last thing he had to say, which would knock down everything Bibi had said, like a bowling ball smashing into the pins.
“He’s never once said he loved me, and I didn’t push him to. But I—I told him I loved him, thinking it had to make a difference. It didn’t, because he never said it back to me. And that said it all. It told me everything I needed to know.”
CHAPTERFORTY
Arlo stared at the canvas, the mountainscape flat, gloomy, and uninspired. He’d been working on the painting for the past week, plunging himself into his art the way he’d always done to keep his dark thoughts at bay. It’d always worked before; picking up a brush and mixing colors had never failed him in the past, but they were failing him now.
I love you, Arlo…
Why couldn’t he say it back? Why couldn’t he admit what was in his heart? His scared and cowardly heart…
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hurled his brush at the picture. The jar of water followed, smashing to the floor and shattering into a million vicious little shards. It dripped down the canvas, making the watercolor paints run and bleed, like so many tears and so many wounds. Tears and wounds he’d caused, that had been nobody’s fault but his. He ripped the canvas from the easel and kicked it away.
A small, frightened whimper from the corner at the back of the studio made him spin around. Peanut, curled up and shivering on an old blanket by the wall, next to some heaped up boxes, stared at him with fear and sadness in his dark brown eyes.
“Hey, boy, I forgot you were there. I’m sorry. Come here and let’s go down and get a treat.”
Peanut whimpered again and pressed himself into the wall. Guilt rippled through Arlo as he gazed at his pet, every part of Peanut’s little body quivering.
