The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

Why must he ask this? I thought he was going to ask when we were talking about Lo’s name before book club last week. I was so relieved when he didn’t. My parents really had interesting taste in names when deciding what to torment me with for the rest of my life.

Millie: Yep.

Jameson: And…

Millie: And what?

Jameson: Well, what is it?

Millie: Wouldn’t you like to know?! Mwahahaha!

I silence my phone so I can ignore all of his pleading messages that I assume he’s going to send. It drives people crazy that I don’t tell them my actual name. A lot of people eventually figure it out. I can tell when they do, because the first time I see them after they do, they look at me with that pitying stare, and they never ask me about my name again.

I pull out my computer to work on my novel, and the words flow out of me. I originally thought I wanted the hero of the story to be an arrogant, grumpy, alpha-male type, but I’ve changed my mind. I want him to be kind and thoughtful. Someone who would give someone a ride when they need it and listens when people need an ear to talk to. My heroine is a little too sensitive to fall for a broody male, anyway. I do want this to be somewhat believable.

Friday is limping across the finish line, but it made it. Tess has spent most of the day crying because it’s her last day of work. She actually hugged Gertrude and told her she’s going to miss seeing her every day. That was when we knew she wasn’t functioning on all cylinders, and Hannah suggested she go home a little early and take a nap. Tess did not like that but agreed it might be a good idea.

“Hey, Tess, before you go, I want to ask you and Hannah something…” I say. Both women turn to me and wait for me to speak. “I was wondering if y’all would want to come over for a girls’ night at my house tonight. Nothing major, just junk food and a movie. It’s Friday, so I know you probably already have plans, so it’s totally fine if you can’t.” I’m rambling again, and my heart is pounding, which I’m aware is silly. It’s not like I’m giving a presentation on solving world hunger. I’m literally just asking people if they want to hang out with me.

Hannah claps her hands and bounces on the balls of her feet, sending relief washing through my veins. “Yes! I need some girl talk!” she shouts. Gertrude gives her the stink eye from the circulation desk where she has been busy scaring the soul from a sweet after-school employee who returns books to the shelves.

We both look to Tess for her answer. She’s rubbing her belly and swaying from side to side. “Yeah, sure. It could be my last chance before this girl is born,” she says with a sleepy smile. “But first, I’m going to get that nap before I have to pick Lily up from daycare.”

A running list of things to do starts rushing through my head: hide the unpacked boxes in the garage, pick up snacks, find the throw blankets, etc. Should we paint our nails, or is that too cliche? I send a text to Lo, begging her to clean up the house a little before I get home and tell her she can invite someone over if she wants to.

We close up the library at 5:00, and I run to the tiny grocery store here in town. I’m steering the cart like it’s my own personal race car, and anyone in my path better make way. Move it, Granny! I’ve got snacks to buy!

I grab ingredients for brownies, chips, fruit, and sodas. I pass the Bagel Bites in the freezer section and remember that Lo used to love those when she was little. I grab four boxes. Is it too much? Who knows? I don’t have time to think about serving sizes right now.

The cashier looks at my food choices, and I know that that is judgment in her eyes. She’ll go tell the rest of the town about the new girl’s horrible diet later, and all of the mamas will tell their single adult sons to steer clear of me. Can’t have their precious sons shackled to someone who has the audacity to serve Bagel Bites.

Newsflash: I don’t want your sons, anyway!

I rush home and kick my heels off at the door. The dishwasher is running, and there’s a nice clean scent coming from the kitchen. The lines on the thick rug tell me that Lo vacuumed. Bless her! I walk by the bathroom and notice the mountain of Lo’s laundry is noticeably missing. My ear perks up at the sound of the washing machine running.

I must have bumped my head and woken up in an alternate universe. When I asked Lo to clean up a bit, I expected the bare minimum. She has exceeded even what I would have done. Even more surprising than our clean house is the sound of teenage girls giggling coming from Lo’s bedroom.

I knock on her door to let her know I’m home, and she swings her door open with a smile on her face. “Millie! This is my new friend, Amy!”

Amy waves to me, and I immediately love her. Her dark curly hair is a riot, and she’s wearing a baggy t-shirt that says I put down my book to be here. Would it be wrong if I said I want to be Amy when I grow up? “It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

“I hope it’s okay that she came over. You did say I could invite someone,” Lo says.

“Of course. I have two people from work coming at 6:00. Thank you so much for cleaning. You’re wonderful, and I love you!”

I go to my room and change into some comfy clothes. It’s not a true girls’ night if you can’t wear pajamas, right? I follow Amy’s lead and put on a t-shirt with a T. rex trying to read a book. Poor T. rexes really got the short end of the stick with those tiny arms. No wonder they’re extinct. I put my hair into a top-knot and exchange my contacts for my thick-framed glasses. Life is good.

Hannah and Tess arrive promptly at 6:00, and they proceed to ooh and ahh over the renovations on the house. They tell me that this house used to be quite the dump a year ago and that Jameson and his Pop did all of the renovations on it with Eilleen designing everything. I had no idea that Jameson did any of the work in here. I run my hands along the marble countertops and think of him doing the same.

Lo and Amy venture from their room to eat snacks with us. Lo tells everyone about her encounter with the bully boy on the first day of school, which dissolves into all of us talking about how awful high school boys are.

Tess tells us about when she was in ninth grade—the dark ages, before smartphones—and she was writing a note to give to her friend, and the boy sitting in front of her took it and read it to the people sitting around her. “Thank goodness for texting!” Lo and Amy say in unison.

The conversation turns to pregnancy and babies, thanks to Tess’s round belly. We all have questions since none of us have even thought about having a baby anytime soon, for obvious reasons. “It goes by pretty quickly until the last few weeks. Time seems to stop at the end,” she says when asked about what it’s like to be pregnant for three-fourths of a year. Thinking about it that way makes it seem like so long.

“I’m so ready for this child to come out I could cry,” she says.

“I’ve heard that dancing can induce labor! Let’s turn on some music and dance!” Hannah says. Amy and Lo jump up from their barstools and turn on some peppy music. I laugh when N’Sync blares through the speakers.