Page 17 of Next Season

“Oh? How long?”

“Eight years, I think. Maybe nine.”

Jean-Claude did a double take. “That is shocking.”

I snorted. “Why?”

“You’re not ugly and you play hockey.”

This time, I guffawed. “Gee, thanks. I should put those on my Tinder profile.”

“I’m stating the obvious. I’m sure you have no trouble finding partners, so maybe you aren’t the type who likes to settle down.”

“That’s not it,” I replied, unthinking. “Dating feels like a second sport. It’s fun at first, but then you realize you don’t know the rules. I don’t have time for mind games. I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t feel like work…and that’s on me. I’m too focused on my career, and it’s not going particularly well at the moment. Maybe I’m better off single. You?”

“Better off? No. But I live in Elmwood, so I’ll be single for a while.”

“Will you stay here? It seems like you could go anywhere, open your own restaurant, and make a name for yourself.”

Jean-Claude inclined his chin as he crunched on the last bite of his sandwich. “Maybe I will someday. I’m not in a hurry to leave, though. I like it here. It feels…cozy, yes?”

“I guess. Maybe too cozy. I mean, c’mon…it’s gotta be weird working with your ex. Especially now that he’s married.” I wiped my mouth on my napkin and stacked our empty plates.

“Why? Nolan and I are friends. I have nothing but good feelings for him and Vinnie. Jealousy is a pointless emotion. When you give in to it, you are the only one who is hurt.”

“You’re a more evolved human than I am.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a nice way to say I’m old?”

I pulled a funny face. “Well…fortyisofficially over the hill.”

He flipped me off. “Find your own tuna. I’m out of here.”

“Hey, forty is the new thirty! I think that makes thirty-five the new twenty-five, so we’re both in luck.” I carried the plates to the sink and moved back to the table as he stood. “Want more wine?”

“No, thank you. I need to go home, take out my dentures, eat Jell-O, and watchGolden Girls.Au revoir, Riley. You have enough tuna for breakfast. Disgusting, but have fun with that. Maybe not enough for lunch or dinner, though. Next time, I’ll teach you how to make it yourself.Bon?”

“Merci,” I replied. “I don’t want to make this weird, but I want to pay you for—”

“Weird. Stop,” Jean-Claude intercepted. “I don’t need money. Call it a neighborly favor.”

“Well…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He glanced up when the light flickered and wind rattled the window. “Do you know where the flashlights and candles are in case you lose power?”

“Uh…no,” I admitted.

“I do. Come, I’ll help you find them…just in case.” He milled about the kitchen, opening drawers and pulling out flashlights, candles, and matches. He set everything on the table, then ushered me into the hallway and pointed at the basement stairs. “The fuse box is next to the washing machine. You may not need to touch it, but you should know that all the buttons on the panel should click up. It’s an older box, and it gets temperamental in outages. And before you ask…I lived here with Nolan for a year.”

“Ah, right. Would you mind showing me?” I asked.

Okay…I’d done it again. It was as if my mouth were operating on its own steam and I was just along for the ride. I didn’t need help finding a stupid fuse box, candles, flashlights, or matches. I could figure out which buttons turned lights off and on, for fuck’s sake.

“Of course.”

The basement was actually a tricked-out den with a larger flat-screen than the one in the family room upstairs, a mini bar, a comfy gray sectional, two leather lounge chairs, a foosball table, a dart board, a murphy bed, and a poker table. Pillars divided the game section from the TV area, and behind the doors at the far end of the gigantic space were a bathroom, a utility room, and a laundry room.

It was huge but homey, and best of all, the small narrow windows didn’t let in a ton of sunlight, making it the perfect hangout spot for me in my current state. I’d fallen asleep down here watching television—or listening to it when my eyes gave out and my head began to pound—more often than I would ever admit. The stack of pillows and the duvet draped sloppily off the edge of the sofa probably gave me away.