He just blinks.
“What? My neurosis makes sense on a certain level when you think about it.”
He raises a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Shut up.”
“Sorry, sorry.” His smile is brief. A bare hint of the usual happy. “I don’t like that you worry or feel uncomfortable with me sometimes.”
“It’s not your fault and there isn’t anything you can do about it. It’s me. I just need a bit of time to adjust. Really.”
“In that case, C-minus for effort,” he announces. “Must try harder with the texting. I look forward to practicing with you. And I’ll always give you the benefit of the doubt, I promise. I’m not going to jump to the worst conclusion over something you say, Anna.”
“No. That’s more my kind of thing.”
He takes a deep breath. “Now that was a very beige house you grew up in. Though I found the occasional tan accent to be quite out there and daring, really.”
“And you call me judgy. Hey, it was raining this week,” I remember all of a sudden. “Was your arm okay?”
“Eh. Some aches and pains. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he says. “Where are we going?”
“There’s one in Oakdale that looked okay.”
“Wrong side of the highway.”
“I know, and transportation is kind of an issue for me these days,” I say. “The less I need to drive, the better. There was a more promising one in the West End.”
“Okay,” he says, heading in that direction. “So are we going to talk about that kiss?”
I wrinkle my nose. “No.”
Another laugh.
“There’s nothing to say. I made that clear at the time. It never happened and we’re moving on.” I raise my chin in defiance. The truth is, I need to be single for a while. Sex friends are all nice and well and useful, but the focus here is on me getting my life together. Not on finding a transitional person to help me get over Ryan. Acclimatizing to being single is what’s best for me right now. I don’t need sex (involving other people) and I don’t need my hand held. I am a grown-ass woman. “I thought about a small house, but the fact of the matter is, I have enough going on looking after myself. Taking on a yard as well seemed foolishly optimistic, even if having a little garden would be lovely.”
“Not to be an asshole and suggest you’re unable to cope on your own or anything, but you’re okay with living on your own?”
I grip the seat as we turn around a corner. “Please slow down a little.”
He darts a look at me.
“Sorry. I get panicky in cars sometimes.”
“Of course,” he says, easing his foot off the accelerator. “I’m sorry. Should have thought of that.”
I swallow hard, doing my best to relax. Shoulders down, breathing even and all that. “Anyway . . . what are my options? Sharing a house isn’t appealing and I’m fortunate that I can afford my own small space. For now, at least. My friend Briar would love me to move to New York, but I’m not so sure about that.”
“New York?” he asks, brows raised and eyes surprised.
“Yeah. A clean slate might be nice, but I don’t know.”
“Big cities are fun to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there,” he says. “Portland’s great. A bit slower and smaller. Plenty of cool bars and nightlife if that’s your thing. Not so small that everyone’s in your business.”
“Speak for yourself. Me and my drama is the talk of the ’hood.”
“Yeah, well . . . you’ve been a bit too exciting lately.” He winces. “I know what that feels like. After the truth came out about my crazy ex trying to kill Clem, it felt like everyone in the world knew. There were pictures in the papers and a police investigation and you name it. But, Anna, these things do calm down sooner or later. How’s the divorce going? Is the douchebag fighting you?”
“No. I think he’s given up on messing with me and is focusing on his new and improved family with Celine.” Ugh. Whatever. I do not care. I refuse to care. “We’re dividing up the things from our house.”
“What’d you make a grab for?”
“First up was the chunky mahogany dining table and chairs with the matching sideboard.”
He grins. “I knew you owned a sideboard. Bet there’s even linen napkins in there.”
“Shut up.” I smile too. “Then I got petty and went for the big-screen TV and sound bar that he loves more than life, but is too cheap to go for straight up because he knows it’s not the thing worth the most money in the house.”
“Atta girl. Get him where it hurts.”
“Apparently I still have some aggression issues to work through, but such is life. He went first for the Sub-Zero fridge with the glass doors that his parents got us as a wedding present,” I say. “But it’s too big for most apartments and houses and its resale value is not that amazing. Nor do I want anything that came from his parents, who have supported their darling boy through his screw-up one hundred percent. Not that I really expected any different.”