Page 3 of Gift of You
“I didn’t catch his name, but I’m staying in the space above the hardware store. Found it on one of those vacation rental sites.”
He thought for a moment, then his brows lifted. “Next to the bookshop? That’s Matthew Mahoney’s place.” A cloud passed over his usually sunny expression.
“What? What’s that look for?”
“Matthew’s a widower. His wife passed a little over a year ago from cancer. Super nice lady. The whole town closed down for her funeral. Everyone loved her.”
I frowned, looking down at my champagne. That would explain the gruff manner he’d exhibited this afternoon. Or perhaps he’d been grumpy because a man dressed in nothing but a towel had been pounding on his door in the middle of the afternoon. Hard to say.
“Sounds like a sad situation,” I offered lamely. What did one say to something like that?
“It was. And Matthew’s always been a little gruff, but he’s definitely been worse since her passing. Not that I blame the guy. I can’t imagine what it’d be like if I lost...” His words trailed off as his eyes sought out his newlywed husband. Jesus, what a terrible topic of conversation for a wedding day. “Excuse me. I just need to...” Absently, he handed me his empty glass before making a beeline directly to Jonathan, where he pulled the man away from a conversation and kissed him soundly and without preamble.
A round of cheers went up from all the guests assuming it was simply the action of a man freshly married to the love of his life. A lump formed in my throat while a knot twisted in my chest. I wasn’t jealous.I wasn’t. I was happy for them. Jonathan had always been a bit of a miserable asshole, but he’d been utterly unbearable after his divorce to that witch of a woman, Rebecca. He been cold and closed-off, but Hayden had opened up something inside of him. The metamorphosis had been a pleasure to see, not to mention making for a much more pleasant work environment. Jonathan had become more than just a coworker. After years of working together, he’d finally become a friend, and by extension, so had Hayden.
So yes, I was truly happy for them, and I was honored they’d asked me to officiate at their wedding. But their happiness also served as a stark reminder of just how alone I was.
It wasn’t that I didn’t date, it was just that the club scene that had been such an exciting part of my twenties had given way to dating and hookup apps in my thirties, and now, two years into my forties, I was tired of it all. The performative nature of it was exhausting, and the thought of a drunken fuck in some disgusting club bathroom was enough to have my champagne threatening to come back up. Scrolling through dating apps, swimming in a sea of headless ab and ass pictures, finally thinking you’ve made a connection with a guy only to bespammed with dick pics, was nearly as bad as the image of the club fuck. I wanted connection. Companionship. Sex, of course, but I wanted intimacy and vulnerability along with it.
I wanted love.
I looked down into my now-empty glass, shaking my head at the morose turn of my thoughts. Today should be cause for celebration, not a pity party. It wasn’t about me. I took a deep breath and released it, doing my best to shake off the sad vibes, and after pasting a smile on my face, crossed the room and rejoined the party.
4
MATTHEW
I awoke with a start,blinking against the light I hadn’t turned off before giving up the fight against sleep. A thump at my door had my head whipping toward the sound and Ernie hopping off my lap with an indignant meow. I’d thought I’d heard some sort of noise earlier... maybe a critter had found its way onto the balcony. Another thump, this time followed by a muffled curse, had me pulling the lever of my recliner into an upright position and crossing the room to investigate.
I opened the door, surprised when a man landed in a heap at my feet, apparently having been sitting on the balcony with his back against the door I’d just opened. He blinked at me owlishly through stylish black horn-rimmed glasses, as if lying on your back at someone’s feet was a completely normal way of greeting.
“Hello,” he said, not making any attempt to sit up. “I seem to be locked out of my room. Apartment. Rental. Thingy.” He lifted his hand approximately three inches off the floor, pointed vaguely to his right, then let it flop back down at his side.
I sighed heavily and made a mental note to call Jerry and complain about his recent decision to rent out his apartmentthrough one of those vacation rental sites. I’d definitely give him an earful. Probably. In my head, most likely.
Leaving the stranger lying in my doorway, I turned back into my apartment, detouring into the kitchen where I pulled open the junk drawer and rummaged around until I found the key Jerry had given me months ago in case of emergency—which I supposed this was, of sorts.
Returning to the doorway, I found the stranger exactly as I’d left him, except his eyes were closed.Jesus, is he asleep?I nudged his shoulder with my foot, and thankfully his eyes popped open.
“Oh! You’re back!”
He made no move to get up.
I held up the key.
He reached his hand straight up in the air, but otherwise remained in position.
A gust of cold winter air rolled over us, and I let out an impatient curse. “Come on, man. Get up. The sooner I let you into the apartment, the sooner I can go back to bed.”
“Can’t get up. ’M stuck.”
“What do you mean you’re stuck?”
He shrugged. Or at least I thought it was meant to be a shrug. It was hard to tell from this angle.
Rubbing my hand over my face, completely out of patience, I crouched down, got my hands underneath his shoulders, and lifted him into a seated position. I started to let go, but he’d gone completely boneless and began sliding back down to the ground.
“Jesus, man. Help me out here.”
