Famous in a Small Town

I definitely didn’t dress up or put on makeup for the man. My white tee, blue jeans, and violet-colored Chucks would do just fine for this visit.

“Ani,” he said with his usual frown in place. “Smith gave you the code to the gate.”

I sighed and set down the two large bags and one sizeable box. “Yes. I’m sorry to intrude. But you haven’t been answering your cell or responding to recent texts.”

The frown amped up to a scowl. Such heavy dark brows and stormy blue eyes.

“Which I agree is your right, so stop scowling at me. However, Smith is worried, and some of these items are time sensitive.”

“What is all this?”

“Mostly more food. They didn’t want to leave it at your gate and risk having it eaten by animals or you not seeing it was there,” I explained. “Linda made you chocolate chip cookies. I’m pretty sure there’s cannabis in them, so beware. And Emma from the bar crocheted you a lovely blanket that should match the colors in your parlor. She was worried about how you were going to handle your first winter up here even though it’s a while away yet. There’s also some cornbread and chili that Claude dropped off today and other assorted goods. I got them to attach a note or at least their name so you know who made what if you’d like to say thanks.”

“There’s a lot.”

“Well, they’re excited that you’re here and they want to make you feel welcome,” I said. “And no one has narced you out that I’m aware of. The Gary story didn’t work as well as we hoped. I may have been overestimating certain people’s gullibility. But Linda put the fear of God and the threat of reporters and your fans inundating the town into those who might have talked. While we could probably do with the money, no one wants mayhem on Main Street. So I think you’re safe for now.”

Some of the tension in his rigid shoulders seemed to ease.

“And Smith said if you don’t call him back he’s coming back up here.” I pasted on a smile. “That’s everything. I’m going to go now. Bye.”

“Wait. I, ah . . .”

Gene stuck his doggy nose through the gap between Garrett and the door. Much panting ensued as he wriggled and worked his way out to me.

I commenced giving him pats. “How are you, beautiful boy?”

“I didn’t get back to you about our . . . you know,” he said. “Our second not-date. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

He looked at me and I looked at him, and ugh. He was just too much. The hint of unhappy in his gaze matched the stern lines of his face. “Are you just saying that or is it fine?”

I opened my mouth and then shut it again.

“Right,” he said, and let out a breath. “How have you been?”

“Um. Good. And you?”

“Good. Yeah.” He shoved a hand through his messy hair. A crumpled black tee, black jeans, and no shoes. There were small dark hairs on his toes. Not excessive. But they were there. And why I was once again staring at his feet was anyone’s guess. “About what I texted the other night. I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t mind you asking me personal questions, Garrett. Though as just displayed, I may not always know how to answer them at the time.”

He just stared at me.

“It only seems fair that you can ask me questions, given I can get the basics about your life off Wikipedia and TMZ,” I said. “But like you said, I don’t really know you. We’ve only talked in person like, what, four times?”

“Five,” he corrected.

“Five. Right.”

“Not including now.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “You were saying?”

“It’s just that the not-sleeping issue isn’t something I tend to talk about, and I’m reluctant to dump my years-old trauma on you without fair warning,” I finished in a rush. “And now that I’ve raised things to a whole new level of awkward, I’m definitely going to go.”

“It was her birthday the other day.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why I went quiet, and why Smith is probably blowing up your phone.”

I just nodded.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, his gaze on the packages at his feet. Guess we both had avoidance issues. “It’s a mess, but . . .”

“Are you asking just to be polite?”

He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes on me. “Ani, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really tend to do things just to be polite.”

“In that case, I’d like to come in.”

He wasn’t lying about it being a mess. Glasses and mugs and plates sat abandoned on the coffee table in the parlor. Records, an acoustic guitar, and scraps of paper lay scattered around. The fading sunlight seemed to fill the old Cooper house with shadows and memories.