Was it that I was better off alone? Was it that I was too busy trying to keep my business afloat to deal with a relationship, especially long distance? Was it that I didn’t want to end up like McIntyre, letting someone else call all the shots in my life? Or was it that no matter how well you thought you knew someone, you could never really know them, and finding out you were wrong about them hurt like a motherfucker?
Really, all the reasons converged in one single truth—I didn’t want my life to change. It was fine the way it was before Blair got here, and it would be fine again when she left.
“Look, I’m not denying she’s hot,” I told Cole. “Or that we like each other. She makes me laugh. And yeah, the sex is great. But that’s it.”
“That’s it?” Cole gave me a strange look. “What the hell else is there, Dempsey?”
Then he took off again, leaving me in the dust.
Entering the lobby a couple hours later, I groaned at the sight in front of me. “Blair, that is not how you do it. You’re dripping paint everywhere.”
“What’s wrong?” Blair turned around, roller in hand. “I did it like you said, didn’t I? From the bottom up?”
“I said from the top down. And you can’t just roll it on aimlessly like that.” She’d made what looked like giant white W’s all over one wall.
She glanced at her work. “I just wanted to get the most paint on that I could. I didn’t know how expensive paint was.”
I shook my head. I’d cringed when Blair suggested she could get started on painting the lobby on her own this morning while I was on my run, but I hadn’t had the heart to tell her no. “It’s fine. Look, why don’t you let me do the actual painting?”
“Because I want to help. You did all the prep work yesterday.”
“You helped me with the taping off. That’s a really important step.”
She beamed and wiped her forehead, leaving a smudge of white paint behind. Paint also dotted and streaked the old charcoal-colored T-shirt of mine I’d given her to work in, and from the looks of her butt in those baggy jeans, she’d likely either sat in paint or bumped into a wet wall. “Thanks.”
“But I’m going to take over here, okay?” I took the roller from her hand.
“Okay.” She looked sad for a moment.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I told her, trying to cheer her up. “Why don’t you reach out to my mother and see if she’s got any of those old photos you were asking about?”
Excited again, she picked up a wet washcloth lying on top of a step stool and wiped her hands. “Good idea. I’ll call her right now.”
“Perfect.”
She looked around the lobby. “I can’t wait for the new furniture to arrive.”
“When’s it coming again?”
“Friday. Do you think the walls will be dry by then?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah. They’ll be dry by tonight.”
Her face lit up. “Yay! I’m so excited for your brand new look. It should all be in place by next weekend. Oh, that reminds me. I have my interview up in Traverse City with Frannie MacAllister on Saturday. Do you think my car will be ready?”
“It should be. I talked to the guy sending the parts yesterday,” I said, working the roller in the tray. “They should be here Wednesday.”
“Oh. You didn’t tell me that.” There was zero enthusiasm in her tone. “That’s . . . that’s good. Wednesday is good.” She paused. “So, should I call the motel?”
“The motel?” I started rolling the paint onto the wall.
“Yes. Once my car is ready, I can go stay at the motel. Your mom was very kind to offer a room, but I really don’t want to put her out. And I’ve probably crowded you long enough.”
She wasn’t crowding me. And I didn’t want her to move to the fucking motel. But what reason did I have for asking her to stay? So I could keep banging her every night? That didn’t seem right. And besides, I was still kind of bothered by what Cole had said. Maybe if she moved to the motel, that would show people like him that we weren’t serious. That I didn’t need or want a girlfriend.
Because I didn’t. I probably wouldn’t even miss her. And if I