Naughty Neighbor - Lauren Runow Page 0,75
you the number to a local taxi company,” I offer, and she looks displeased.
“You wouldn’t happen to be heading out anytime soon, would you?” she asks, batting her lashes.
I turn around and look at Wayne, who’s watching us with interest. He’ll probably tell me I’m crazy for turning her down. The guy has never had the carefree bachelor life and lives vicariously through me.
“No. I’ll be hanging with my brother-in-law for a while. I should get back to him. It was nice meeting you.” I turn around and go back to Wayne, who’s staring at me with raised brows and his arms out. I shake my head. “She’s getting over a bad breakup and not looking for anything right now. If you’re good to go, I am too. I’m really tired.”
Like a good friend, he just nods, tosses some peanuts from the bowl on the bar into his mouth, and slaps a twenty on the bar for the bartender as a tip. “Let’s get out of here then.”
When we get home, I thank him for his company, and he heads up to his room. I might have said I was tired before, but the truth is, I’m wired, so I get another drink from the refrigerator and head out to the back deck.
The stars are bright tonight. I sit in an Adirondack chair and look up at the constellations.
“Hey, bro.”
I’m startled as Penelope appears, heading over to the seat next to me. She nudges my leg and then sits beside me.
I glance in her direction. “I take it, Milène told you, so I don’t have to fill you in?”
She nods. “She did. You okay?”
I shrug and look back up at the stars, of course seeing Cassiopeia staring back at me. “I’m okay with her not saying she loves me back. I get it. But I need to know that she might love me one day. She couldn’t even give me that.”
“What did she say?”
“She called me an egomaniac. Said I needed to be the center of attention. You know what? She’s right. What’s so bad about wanting to be the sole focus of the woman you’re with? She knew this about me really early on, and then she threw it in my face like it was a bad thing.”
“Did you know that she didn’t believe in love?”
My sister’s comment earns her an intense side-eye from me.
“Not exactly. She says she doesn’t believe in love, yet her entire living is based around that mere fact. I called her a hypocrite. I’m pissed that she believes it enough to write about it, yet she’s afraid to actually live it.”
“Whoa … so shit got deep then.” She sits back fully in the chair and looks up at the stars the same way I am.
She doesn’t say a word as I continue to drink my beer and count my favorite constellations.
Eventually, she lets out a sigh.
“Did I tell you I’ve read all of her books?” she says, and I turn to her, impressed.
“That’s a lot of pages for an author you just discovered.”
She raises one shoulder with a slight grin, shyly covering her face. “What can I say? I went on a binge. It’s not every day your brother dates a romance writer. I thought it was cool, having actually met her.”
“What did you think of the books?”
“I loved them. She’s really talented. I noticed her books have different themes, but they follow the same formula. The couple meets and gets together, and then some outside drama keeps them apart. They have to fight to get back together, and the end. Yes, they’re all super romantic, and the way she writes love makes you believe you’ll find it someday.”
“I feel a but coming on.”
“But”—she smiles—“there’s always someone who doesn’t believe in love fighting against the couple. Whether it’s a meddling mom or boyfriends who left the heroine scarred for life or even a father who deserted her … the conflict always revolves around the heroine saying true love doesn’t exist.”
When our eyes meet, I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. Lacey writes about herself. She’s the one who’s fighting against the notion. It’s like her books are her own therapy. I know, deep down, she wants it because every couple gets their happy ending, yet she’s not living her own. I hate that she’s onto something.
“She wrote a book about me. About us. Every single fucking detail.”
“Every detail?” she asks slowly.
“Every. Single. One. I should be flattered. Hell, I kind of am.”