Page 41
Story: All Your Fault
“Mayor Billingsly, in the flesh,” Will said.
“Lunch plans?” the mayor called.
Will hesitated. Then, out of the side of his mouth, he said, “Will you have lunch with me? Please?”
I could have refused, left him to his own devices, but instead, I shouted up, “Sorry Mr. Mayor! I’ve got dibs today!” Then I stuck my arm through Will’s. Friend. I was being a good friend.
Somewhere, Joe laughed.
“Ho ho!” The mayor cried, clearly delighted. He held his hands up. Another man’s face appeared in the window—a more discrete-looking businessman, handsome with silver hair, maybe in his sixties.
He gave Will a little salute but didn’t holler like the mayor.
“Sorry, Fred,” Will called. “Another time?”
“Thanks for that,” Will said as we strode away. “You don’t actually have to have lunch with me,” he said quickly.
“It’s going to be kind of awkward for you if those guys see me eating on my own,” I said.
Will grimaced. “I’m sorry, I kind of painted myself into a corner.”
“I helped,” I smiled.
11
Will
“Ican’t believe you yelled at the mayor,” I said as we walked down Main Street.
She laughed. “You sounded like you needed the assist.”
I did. The last thing I wanted was to be roped into lunch with the mayor and Charles Haverford. Charles would surely keep the talk appropriately on issues that didn’t present a conflict of interest for the mayor. But Fred would stick his foot in it, and probably tell Charles I was gearing up my election campaign in the meantime.
“I did. I’m just impressed. Most people get nervous around him.”
“Really? Him?”
“Damn, don’t let him hear you say that. He’s got an ego bigger than Opal Lake.”
“Except Opal Lake is beautiful.”
“You don’t think Fred Billingsly is beautiful?”
Michelle pinched her lips. She was trying not to laugh again.
I loved this. Too much.
The moment I thought it my stomach did a dip. Not the good kind, either. What was I thinking, finagling things so we could have lunch together? I should be back at the office, safe, and buried under piles of requests for new traffic lights and noise complaints about alpaca screams. Because that was really a thing here.
Instead, I was walking down Main Street with Michelle Franco, fighting a war against myself. One side wanted to do everything in its power to keep her close to me. That was the side that had me skipping out on my morning meetings to drive a goddamned tow truck to her house. Begging Luciana to bump her schedule to fit Michelle in despite knowing she wouldn’t let me get away with claiming I was just doing a favor for a friend.
The other side was screaming at me to run. Far, fast, and permanently.
I was already in too deep. I knew that the moment I turned around and saw her in her driveway this morning looking so breathtakingly beautiful I’d had to grab a chain on the truck and hold on for goddamned dear life lest I open my mouth and tell her. Or, god forbid, try to kiss her.
I thought I could pretend it wasn’t there, this deep, unyielding need I had for her—a need that was so strong it was like air to aching lungs. But I couldn’t, and that scared the shit out of me. That was what was telling me to be hard and distant and to shut her out before she saw the truth.
“So… Aubrey’s?” Michelle asked as we reached the end of the block. “Or Chinese?”
“Lunch plans?” the mayor called.
Will hesitated. Then, out of the side of his mouth, he said, “Will you have lunch with me? Please?”
I could have refused, left him to his own devices, but instead, I shouted up, “Sorry Mr. Mayor! I’ve got dibs today!” Then I stuck my arm through Will’s. Friend. I was being a good friend.
Somewhere, Joe laughed.
“Ho ho!” The mayor cried, clearly delighted. He held his hands up. Another man’s face appeared in the window—a more discrete-looking businessman, handsome with silver hair, maybe in his sixties.
He gave Will a little salute but didn’t holler like the mayor.
“Sorry, Fred,” Will called. “Another time?”
“Thanks for that,” Will said as we strode away. “You don’t actually have to have lunch with me,” he said quickly.
“It’s going to be kind of awkward for you if those guys see me eating on my own,” I said.
Will grimaced. “I’m sorry, I kind of painted myself into a corner.”
“I helped,” I smiled.
11
Will
“Ican’t believe you yelled at the mayor,” I said as we walked down Main Street.
She laughed. “You sounded like you needed the assist.”
I did. The last thing I wanted was to be roped into lunch with the mayor and Charles Haverford. Charles would surely keep the talk appropriately on issues that didn’t present a conflict of interest for the mayor. But Fred would stick his foot in it, and probably tell Charles I was gearing up my election campaign in the meantime.
“I did. I’m just impressed. Most people get nervous around him.”
“Really? Him?”
“Damn, don’t let him hear you say that. He’s got an ego bigger than Opal Lake.”
“Except Opal Lake is beautiful.”
“You don’t think Fred Billingsly is beautiful?”
Michelle pinched her lips. She was trying not to laugh again.
I loved this. Too much.
The moment I thought it my stomach did a dip. Not the good kind, either. What was I thinking, finagling things so we could have lunch together? I should be back at the office, safe, and buried under piles of requests for new traffic lights and noise complaints about alpaca screams. Because that was really a thing here.
Instead, I was walking down Main Street with Michelle Franco, fighting a war against myself. One side wanted to do everything in its power to keep her close to me. That was the side that had me skipping out on my morning meetings to drive a goddamned tow truck to her house. Begging Luciana to bump her schedule to fit Michelle in despite knowing she wouldn’t let me get away with claiming I was just doing a favor for a friend.
The other side was screaming at me to run. Far, fast, and permanently.
I was already in too deep. I knew that the moment I turned around and saw her in her driveway this morning looking so breathtakingly beautiful I’d had to grab a chain on the truck and hold on for goddamned dear life lest I open my mouth and tell her. Or, god forbid, try to kiss her.
I thought I could pretend it wasn’t there, this deep, unyielding need I had for her—a need that was so strong it was like air to aching lungs. But I couldn’t, and that scared the shit out of me. That was what was telling me to be hard and distant and to shut her out before she saw the truth.
“So… Aubrey’s?” Michelle asked as we reached the end of the block. “Or Chinese?”
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