The Men Next Door

Ch 44 - Luca

'Not settled yet' my ass.

That's what Brooks told me when I offered to come visit for his birthday, but the truth was, he was just too enamored with a damn baby to miss his best friend. Which was dumb, considering I'd known him a hell of a lot longer than the little crotch goblin.

Even if she was pretty cute. In an alien kind of way.

Cuteness was irrelevant, though. She lived practically down the street from the guy; I didn't have that luxury anymore. My presence would've been a present for both of us. Not to mention Brenna and I — and maybe even Judah, from what I'd heard — would've had a blast making fun of him for the entire weekend.

What a missed opportunity, am I right? One of history's greatest losses.

But it wasn't that unfortunate news that had Addy on my scent the Monday after my would've-been vacation.

"Should I be worried?" she asked, giving me a skeptical once over as she tried and failed to open a glass jar. It clinked against the kitchen counter when she sat it down to shake out her hands. "Or is this just episode 17 of Brooding About Bromance?"

"I'm not brooding," I denied, even though I definitely was. In a cool way, though — not in a Brooks way. It was giving me a bad boy edge or some shit. I just needed a leather jacket, and I'd be like that dude from Grease. "And I've never brooded about bromance."

Addy raised an eyebrow as I carelessly dropped my commuting backpack on the ground. "Moping, then," she corrected. "About... movers."

I rolled my eyes despite the big smile that crept onto my face. The woman had a way of doing that to me. But I knew that the jokes and grins weren't going to last very long, because she was right on the money, as usual. I was moping about movers. And no matter how I spun my less than stellar news, I was pretty sure I was going to get compared to my girlfriend's shitty ex by the end of our conversation.

That was the last thing I wanted her thinking about. It was a wonder she put up with me as it was.

So instead of telling her about the cards that corporate fucking America had dealt me at 10 o'clock that morning, I just said, "I'm not moping either," as resolutely as I could.

"Well, you're definitely doing something," she accused. Her tone was teasing, but I knew right then and there that I wasn't getting out of this one. Addy had already activated whatever feminine magic let her see right through my white lies, and it was only a matter of time before she conjured up the truth. She had a way of doing that, too.

But I was still going to send up a few Hail Marys before I gave in. "I'm just... standing."

"Quietly," she tacked on, squinting like she could see into my mind as she made her way over from the kitchen. I don't remember what was inside that damn jar, but at the speed things were tipping in her favor, it was probably a potion, not pasta sauce. "Usually, it's like—" she picked up my backpack to hang it from her shiny new coat rack "—Gossip Column di Luca in here the second you get home from work. No one in Manhattan is safe from your daily debriefs."

"Maybe I'm just trying to better myself," I tried.

"Maybe you're full of shit."

She was right — again. We both knew it this time. And I didn't make myself any more believable when I wordlessly sank onto her couch and rested my head in my hands like a trophy. Only instead of a trophy, it felt like a big, red-centered target for whoever the hell was in charge of my fate.

Ready, aim, fire.

Three bullseyes; three people I loved abandoning me for the Volunteer State.