Page 46 of I Could Be Yours (The Toronto Terror #6)

NATE

“ O kay. This has got to end.” Flip makes a circle motion around his face and plants his fists on his hips. “You’re making me depressed. I know exactly what you need.”

“I have exactly what I need.” I hold up the box of After Eights, which are Essie’s favorite. It’s basically all I’ve eaten for the past ten days.

“If you eat any more of those, you’re going to turn into one. Go shower and put on some clean clothes.” He points to the bathroom.

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“I know, which is exactly why you need to go somewhere. There is a you-shaped groove in the fucking couch, dude. Your brother can’t come back from his honeymoon and find you still in an espresso-depresso state.

Either you get off your ass and into the shower, honey bear, or I will make you.

I’m stronger than you, I’m tougher than you, and I have no problem getting naked with you. ”

He’s right about all of it, and he’s also fucking relentless when he puts his mind to something, so I toss the box of After Eights on the table and drag my ass off the couch .

“And do not put that shirt back on. It’s really starting to stink!” he yells after me.

I fire the bird over my shoulder. I’ve changed into this shirt every day when I get home from work since we got home from Aruba. Essie slept in it one night, and it smelled like her, and I refuse to wash it, even though it smells more like my BO than her at this point.

Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing dress pants and a polo. Flip is dressed similarly.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?”

“To see some of my favorite ladies.”

“I’m not in the mood for a strip club, Flip.”

“I’m not in the mood for your bad attitude, honey bear. We are going out, and we’re going to have fun, and that’s the end of the fucking story.”

Ten minutes later we’re driving down a residential street, and there isn’t one strip club in sight. Flip turns right into Sunny Acres Retirement Village.

“Are we going to see your grandma or something?”

“We’re going to see someone’s grandma, but not mine.”

I perk up for half a second. “Essie’s?”

He gives me a look. “You are such a fucking idiot. You know that, right?”

I frown.

He shakes his head. “You should have seen your face at the prospect of seeing Essie’s grandma. If you miss her that much, why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

I cross my arms and keep my mouth shut. I don’t know what to think or feel. My chest aches these days in a way that’s become familiar and really unpleasant.

Flip parks in the visitors’ area and pops the trunk. Inside are two baskets of roses.

“What are these for?”

“You.”

My eyebrows try to meet each other .

He shakes his head. “For a smart guy, you can be exceptionally clueless. They’re for all the single old ladies. And the nursing staff. And some of the old men, too. Anyone who looks like they might need a rose gets a rose.” He thrusts a basket at me.

I follow him up the walkway and into the home. It smells like old people, mints, cleaning supplies, and meatloaf.

“Flip!” someone exclaims.

“He’s here!”

“Oh! He brought a friend!”

We’re immediately bombarded by a gaggle of elderly ladies, all of whom are dressed like they’re ready for Sunday night Mass. Flip accepts hugs and doesn’t even flinch when a couple of the ladies pat his ass. They have stars in their eyes.

“Henny, Freida, Gretchen, Honey, and Jillian, this is my roommate, Nate. He’s joining us for bingo.”

“Is he a hockey player?”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“He wishes he was my boyfriend, isn’t that right, honey bear?” Flip winks at me.

I would flip him off if we weren’t surrounded by octogenarians. I shake my head. “He’s too high maintenance, and I like women.”

“You’re the high-maintenance one.”

“You can sit with me, Nate. I’ll take good care of you.” A tiny lady who barely reaches my elbow takes my arm, the creases in her face deepening as she smiles up at me.

We’re herded down the hall, our group growing as we get closer to the dining room. Flip and I hand a rose to pretty much anyone we talk to.

“How often do you do this?” I ask.

“Off season? Every week. During the season, whenever I don’t have a game and we’re not on the road.”

“Does Hemi ever come and do photos?”

“Nah. I do this for me.” The ladies usher us to one of the long tables and make sure no one takes our seats while we help them into theirs.

We spend the next hour playing bingo. It’s definitely preferable to sitting on the couch feeling sorry for myself. And the stories these ladies tell are something else. At the end, Flip and I help the staff put everything away—and he flirts with all the nurses.

A husband and wife are some of the last to leave.

She’s in a wheelchair, and he has a cane, so the nurses help pull her away from the table and get her turned around.

He tucks his cane into the corner and fusses over her, making sure she’s comfortable before he hobbles around behind her and pushes her toward the doors.

“They’ve been married for sixty-five years,” Flip says.

“That’s a long time.”

“It could be you if you get your head out of your ass,” he says pointedly.

“Is this why you brought me here? So I can see what I’ll look like in sixty years?”

“I brought you here because despite your black cloud of doom, you’re a good-looking guy, and these ladies enjoy eye candy. And because I’ve had enough of the moping. But yeah, basically that’s the reason. For a guy who says he doesn’t believe in love, you seem pretty lovesick to me these days.”

I sigh.

“You telling me you don’t want that to be your future?” He motions to the couple who are almost at the doors.

I tuck my hand in my pocket.

“Because honestly, I don’t have a problem stepping in and making it my future if you decide you can’t or won’t.”

I frown. “You don’t want Essie.”

“You don’t know that.”

I know someone aside from me who would be absolutely gutted if he ended up with Essie. And me? I don’t know if I’d ever get over it. How would I deal with family Christmas if they become Madden-and-Stiles fests? I’d be the biggest grinch in town.

“Come on.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

We say good night to the staff and head out into the balmy August night.

“All right, buddy,” Flip says once we’re on the road. “You have to spit it out. You’ve got all the feelings, and you’re holding everything inside. It’s eating you alive and making you miserable.”

I cross my arms. “You waited until we’re in the car and I can’t escape to start pushing, huh?”

“I know how much your mom leaving fucked Tristan up, and I’m pretty sure it fucked up you and Brody just as much, so let’s get your cards on the table so you can start figuring your shit out.”

“How am I supposed to have faith in love when one of the people who was supposed to love me unconditionally fucking bailed? All we got was a fucking Christmas card addressed to the three of us, sent to my fucking dad’s house since I was a kid.

And then she tries to come back into our lives after more than a decade and a half? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Well, right now you’re angry. How do you want to feel about it?” Flip asks.

“I don’t want to care. I don’t want it to hurt, but it fucking does. It hurts all the damn time. And then I think I have relationships figured out with Lisa, and she cheats on me with some guy who’s more emotionally available! Nothing lasts!”

“Some things last,” he argues. “Look at my parents. Look at Essie’s parents.”

“Nothing lasts for me. I told Essie I was falling for her, and she told me I wasn’t, that I couldn’t be.” I don’t tell Flip the rest of that story. About how I was already reeling because of my mother. Or that I kept defaulting to sex with Essie so I wouldn’t have to deal with the fucking feelings.

“Is she right?” Flip asks .

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. This hurts way more than it did when Lisa and I ended. My heart feels like it’s been put in a meat grinder. My chest physically aches.”

“Is this how you want to live for the rest of your life?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Look, man, I know this stuff is hard, but if you don’t want to keep running into the same wall, you have to deal with it. It won’t get better if you don’t.”

“You mean therapy.”

“Yeah, I mean therapy.”

“It’s gonna suck.”

“At first, yeah. But don’t you think you deserve a better life, where the wounds your mom left behind aren’t constantly bleeding?”

I rub my bottom lip. “I didn’t really think about it that way.”

“Essie’s a great person. She deserves someone who can give her the fairy tale she’s always dreamed about. You can be that guy, Nate, but you have to do the work. Show her she’s worth it.”

“What if I do the work and she still doesn’t want me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather try and know for sure than spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been?”