Part of Your World

And then I realized she was gone.

I’d been with Neil seven years. I thought Neil would be the last man I’d ever be with. Then I’d broken up with him and I told myself that I was done. No more men. I didn’t need one. I didn’t need the hassle. I completely rejected the idea of dating ever again. I’d bought a very nice vibrator and I’d retired myself from the pool at thirty-seven. Zero interest.

And now I was flirting.

It was like finding out a plant you killed was alive after all and just needed water.

This actually did make me laugh, which made him laugh—and it was adorable. His warm golden-green eyes creased at the corners and it lit his whole face.

I got up and darted across the room for my phone.

Bri twisted to watch me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling an emergency meeting of the hospital board,” I said, pulling up my email.

She shook her head. “But—it’s a Friday. They’re not going to come talk to you tonight—”

“They will if they still want a Montgomery on staff this time tomorrow.”

I hurriedly typed out the email and hit Send.

It was what Daniel had said last night. When you don’t care, everything’s on your terms. They can take it or leave it. It doesn’t matter to you, so ask for whatever the hell you want.

It’s not that I didn’t care about Royaume. It’s that I didn’t care more about it than Daniel.

So let the negotiations begin…

How could I wake up every day for the next fifty years and function like this, knowing that I didn’t have to. That feeling this was a choice, a decision I made. That I’d picked this for me and him.

And that was the most crucial part of all.

How Daniel must feel, having this breakup thrust on him against his will. Having no say in any of it. Wasn’t that worse than all the rest of it? Hurting someone I loved whose only crime had been unconditionally loving me back?

My parents had never loved me unconditionally. Never. So then why was I loving them that way? Why did they deserve that? Why did I think I had to sell my soul instead of them maybe learning to be open-minded or tolerant or just quiet about the choices their children were making?

“Did you save up enough for the house?”

I let out a breath. “Yeah. I did.”

“You did?” She sounded genuinely happy for me. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, the Etsy store and Instagram page helped a lot. So thank you.”

I could picture her nodding.

“You want to know how I did it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I raised my prices. A lot. Like, twelve thousand dollars for that lightning strike table.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I realized when you hit zero fucks, that’s when negotiations begin.”

“What does that mean?” A small smile in her voice.

“It’s just that I didn’t care if they sold or not. When you don’t care, everything’s on your terms. They can take it or leave it. It doesn’t matter to you, so ask for whatever the hell you want.”

The only good thing that had happened since Alexis left me was that I’d raised the money for the house. The sale had just been finalized two days ago.

I’d put up the last of my custom pieces for twice what Alexis had charged her friends. Three times as much, four times as much. Because I didn’t care. I didn’t care if people bought them. I didn’t care if they didn’t. I didn’t even care if I saved the house. And the funny thing was, the higher I priced them, the more people seemed to want them. They just paid it. So I raised the money and became a successful carpenter overnight, a homeowner. And the victory was so hollow, I didn’t even care that I’d done it, because I didn’t want any of it without her.

When I’d seen Neil this morning in the kitchen, he tried to do the thing where he puts a tender knuckle to my cheek, like my counseling offer was some meaningful moment of forgiveness from me. I smacked his hand off me and grabbed the Keurig from the kitchen, marched it to my bedroom, and locked the door.

I had to come back down a minute later to shove coffee pods into the pockets of my robe, so the gesture lost a little momentum, but I think the message was pretty clear.

“By the way,” I said, “Daniel finally sent me a dick pic. A really good one.”

“Ooooooh, can I see it?”

“No, definitely not.”

She jabbed a finger at me. “See?! You do like him! That was a test and you failed!”

“How did I—because I won’t show you a penis sent to me in trust?”

“Dick pics are community property unless you’re staking a claim on the guy who owns it. You’ve got a little flag that you just planted on Daniel’s peen, it’s waving in the breeze and it says Ali on it.”

I was laughing now.

“You can see alllll my dick pics. Those boys throw ’em around like ‘And you get a penis, and you get a penis, and YOU get a penis!’”

Popeye shuffled up to us, holding a toolbox. Even he was helping.

“Hi. How you feeling?” I asked.

He looked at me with one eye squeezed shut. “Nifty coincidence you’re here, wouldn’t ya say?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He gave Daniel a knowing nod and then hobbled off toward the garage, mumbling to himself.

“What was that about?” I asked, looking up at Daniel.

“Eh, he’s got this theory about the town.”

“What theory?”

He looked a little amused. “He says the town has a way of protecting itself. That it gets what it needs. He thinks you were here today because Hannah needed you.”

I wrinkled my forehead thinking about it. “Huh. I wasn’t actually planning on being here today.”

“Oh, yeah? What changed your mind?”

My parents were playing golf with my ex?

“The weather was nice,” I said instead. I tilted my head. “Hey, do you know how to make a quiche?”

He peered down at me. “Quiche? Yeah.”

“Will you show me?”

He shrugged. “Sure. We can make one tonight and have it for breakfast.”

I smiled. “I think I’m going to want you to show me a lot of things, Daniel. There’s a lot I need to learn.”