The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

Millie

Everything is going wrong today. Or it could just be that I’m in a bad mood. My mouth hurts, despite the massive amounts of pain meds I’ve been taking, and it feels like everyone has decided to come to the library today. Normally, that would be great—amazing, even! I love it when the library is busy, because it means people are reading and saving money by using our resources.

Today, however, I just want everyone to leave. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. No computer for you! No lounging and reading for you! Sorry, kids, story time is canceled today—not really, Gertrude would fire me if I canceled story time.

Hannah and I are busy setting up the craft supplies for the rowdy group of preschoolers when Tess walks in with her bouncing three-year-old daughter, Lily, and baby Riley strapped to her chest. Her hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and there’s a glob of spit-up on her sleeve that I don’t think she’s aware of.

She immediately plops herself down into a chair and goes into a monologue about how exhausting her morning has been. Hannah rushes over to her with eager hands to take baby Riley. She shushes and coos as the baby protests being taken away from her mother.

I go to sit beside her, and she recognizes another soul in distress with expert precision. “What’s been going on?'' she asks.

“Everything hurts, we’ve been so busy today, and Jameson is acting really weird. And I don’t even know why!” I rant. “The last time I saw him, he brought me the most delicious chocolate milkshake, and he was acting so bizarre. He could barely finish a sentence, and he wouldn’t make eye contact with me. And I tried to hug him, but he scooted away from me.”

“Hmm, was he normal before your surgery?” Tess asks while lifting Lily into her lap. She distractedly plays with the little girl’s hair as she ponders Jameson’s odd behavior.

“Yes, he was perfectly normal.”

“And nothing happened?”

“Not that I can think of,” I reply.

“Maybe he said something weird to you while you were on the laughing gas, and he’s worried you remember it,” she suggests. I have no idea what he could have said. I clearly don’t remember anything.

“Or maybe you said something weird…” Hannah says, cutting into the conversation. Both Tess’s and my gazes cut to her as she bounces Riley in her arms. My heart is going to beat out of my chest. Could I have said something that is making him avoid me? What would be so awful to make him run away from me—literally? This day keeps getting worse and worse.

I can’t live like this. Ever since talking with Hannah and Tess yesterday, I’ve been tortured with thoughts of what mortifying things I could have said to Jameson. At first, I decided that I would just pretend like nothing is wrong, and then I thought maybe I would avoid him since he’s avoiding me. But now, after two days of agonizing over what I may or may not have said, I’m determined to ask him what’s going on.

I’ve been camped out by the front window for thirty minutes, waiting for Jameson to get home from work. He’s going to talk to me whether he wants to or not. But he better get home soon, or I might lose my nerve. Even now, I’m contemplating the merits of this plan. Do I really need answers this badly?

Yes, Millie! You do need answers.

I dance around in front of the window, because the urge to pee took over my body about ten minutes ago. I know that he went to work at 7 AM this morning, which means he should have been home by 5 PM. Coincidentally, that’s right around the time I started this window-side vigil. Where is he? Why is he late?

He’ll be home any minute now. I can’t risk going to the bathroom and missing him. The crunch of tires on gravel draws my attention away from Jameson’s driveway to my own. Lo walks inside a minute later and stops in the doorway when she sees me at the window.

“Millie, you okay? Why are you dancing by the window? Are you trying to put on a show for the neighbors?” Lo asks with a laugh. She dumps her backpack and lunchbox onto the floor and kicks off her shoes.

Just then, I see Jameson’s patrol car pull into his driveway. I push Lo out of the way and run out the door. I make it to Jameson’s car in record time. Seriously, I could have just set a world record, and we’d never know.

I’ve noticed that he always sits in his car for a few minutes when he gets home. Not that I stalk him or anything. It’s just an observation that any nosy neighbor would notice. I don’t know what he’s doing in there, but who cares? I swing his door open and say, “You have to tell me what happened the other day when I was hopped up on the happy juice!”

Two things happen immediately after my proclamation. First, Jameson’s eyes grow abnormally large, and his face turns the brightest color of red that I’ve ever seen on a human face. And second, raucous laughter sounds over the speakers of his car. And I know, without a doubt, it’s not a radio DJ. I’ve just shouted those words while he’s on a phone call. I feel my face heat, so now Jameson and I have matching red faces. We’re so cute with our matchy faces.

“Hey, Sarge. Can I give you a call back?” he asks the person on the other end of the phone call. Oh great, it’s his boss. I suppose I should have put a little more thought into my plan of attack.

He gets off the call and then turns to me with an incredulous face. I’ve annoyed him, and I really can’t blame him. If he did that when I was on the phone with Gertrude, she’d be furious with me for unprofessional behavior. Thankfully, his sergeant didn’t sound put out in the least. In fact, it sounded like he found the whole situation entertaining, so I’ve got that going for me.

Jameson climbs out of his car and stands in front of me, looking very intimidating. Why did I decide to do this while he was in uniform? His hands are resting on his belt, and he looks even more handsome than usual in his tan uniform. The way that cowboy hat sits on his head makes me all melty inside. He’s waiting for me to say something, but I can’t seem to function enough to string two words together.

“Well…” he prods impatiently.

“I’m so sorry! If I had known you were on a call, I wouldn’t have done that,” I say with my hands out, begging him not to be angry. I don’t think I could handle him thinking badly of me.

He takes a deep breath, and his gaze softens as he grabs my hands. I’m instantly ten times more relaxed than I was a second before. His touch does wonders to me, but I don’t want to acknowledge what that means. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

“What do you need from me?” he asks, and his deep voice makes me nervous. I thought I was going to be able to just spit it out, get my answer, and then go die from embarrassment. Too much time has passed now. I’ve had too much time to think about this.

I pull my hands out of his loose grip and slowly back away from him. He follows me, stepping forward. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and say, “Oh, um, I better go back. Lo probably needs me.”