Famous in a Small Town

“Huh.”

“And you can set aside your weird belief that anyone in the nearby vicinity is interested in getting into my pants. I assure you, they are not.”

“Why?”

I sighed. “It’s a small town, Garrett. I played spin the bottle and made out in closets with everyone of an appropriate age over a decade ago. Not to mention all of the late-night skinny-dipping in the river. We all know way too much about each other to find anyone alluring. No one is harboring any secret crushes.”

He just nodded.

“Am I allowed to ask why you care?”

“Seems we’re both working on getting past some things. Guess I’m interested to see if breaking your no-dating rule is one of those things.”

I took a step closer, hanging onto the strap of my cross-body purse. The moon hung low in the distance, barely clearing the sharp tips of the iron palings in his people-proof fence. “If I dip my toe back into the dating pool, will you?”

“No.” He stared at my shoes for a minute. At least, he seemed to be staring in that general vicinity. But I doubt he could tell their color in the dark and his face betrayed nothing. “I have to head down to L.A. tomorrow to see to a few things. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Or maybe you’ll like being back in the big city with all your old friends so much that you’ll stay. You never know, it could happen.”

Nothing from him.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked. Though I should have kept my mouth shut. “It’s the first time you’ve been back in a couple of years, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll probably stir up a lot of old memories.”

He turned his face away. The lights from the house behind him limned him in a faint gold. And the I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this vibes coming off the man were intense. “I’ll be fine.”

“Did you want me to look after Gene?”

“No. Thanks. I’m taking him with me.”

“At least you won’t be alone,” I said, taking a step back and raising my hand in farewell. “Safe travels.”

“Ani . . .”

“Hmm?”

“I, ah . . . nothing.” He hung his head and gripped the back of his neck. “Have a good week, yeah?”

Then he turned and walked away.

For most of the four years back in Wildwood, living without dick had been no big deal. I could see to my own needs just fine. Though my libido had been on an extended vacation for various reasons. Let’s not question why it chose to come roaring back to life now. I wasn’t ready to face the way-too-obvious answer.

The lack of lights on over at Garrett’s house made my corner of the world seem lonely. I used to like the quiet. The way I could look out my front window and see anyone coming from a mile away because I was the only person down this end of the street. With his absence, however, my whole world felt . . . off. Which was ridiculous. He’d been gone for a grand total of two whole days. Talk about being a drama queen.

I did not miss Garrett. I was just in a mood or something. Maybe I was about to get my period. Or I could still be processing our crushing defeat at trivia the night before. Linda said we took it far too seriously and declined to join us next week. The Matriarchy Monsters were therefore still down a member. Not great.

My general rule was that I didn’t use my porch after sunset. Routine dictated that I be safely locked up inside by then. Or be surrounded with friends at the bar or some other venue. Any coming and going was done in a swift and safe fashion. All vehicle doors locked and a can of mace in my purse. It really was a wonder Smith hadn’t copped a face full of pepper spray the night he’d come in search of a corkscrew.

But back to the porch. Maria and Cézanne had helped me decorate it soon after I bought the place. I focused on the old Adirondack chairs, colorful cushions, and potted plants while they strung up party lights and placed pillar candles around. The only times the lights and candles were used were when they decided we should take our drinks outside and enjoy the night. But the tiny green lights of fireflies were flitting about in the woods. I fucking loved fireflies. Guess they reminded me of my childhood.

I weighed the glass of red from Cézanne’s winery in my hand. A grown-ass woman could sit on her porch. It shouldn’t matter that the sun had been down for hours. I could be brave. I could do this. There were no boogeymen or unnamed terrors waiting behind the bushes. Nothing would pounce. If Garrett could face his fears and go back to L.A., then I could step outside my own damn front door. Surely. Though taking my can of mace with me wasn’t a bad idea. Just in case.