Eighteen. Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

EIGHTEEN

Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

Joe

The voice on the other end, Huckleberry, I suppose, gives an easy grunt of understanding before saying, "Oh. Am I finally meeting Joe?"

I choke on air, rasping and hacking as I hear Cameron say, "Yeah. It's Joe."

"All right. Let's hear it."

Cameron sets the phone down on the island, facing both of us, and motions for me to begin.

"First of all, I'm not in love with Maren."

"Debatable," Cameron says.

"Sure, man." Huckleberry, who I'm assuming is Craig Boseman, Lorelai's soon-to-be husband, says this in a way that communicates he doesn't believe me in the slightest.

"I don't understand what's happening here," I mutter, embarrassed. "I didn't even tell you I needed to ask about Maren in the first place, and I definitely didn't mean for you to involve… Huckleberry ."

"You can call me Huck, or Craig."

"Nice to meet you."

Cameron smirks from his place against the counter. "Oh, so you really brought me here to talk about construction?"

"Jesus, fuck. Fine."

"It's all right, Joe," Huck says in a patient tone. I take some time to look at him on the screen. He appears to be in some office. He's very normal looking. Scruffy beard, T-shirt, a pair of black eyeglasses. "You're talking to the only other two guys on the planet who can relate to falling in love with one of these three remarkable women. Welcome to the club."

My mouth opens and closes a few times before I shake my head and put down my coffee and make the decision to roll with it. It's not like I have anyone else to talk to about this shit.

"Fine. Okay. So I'll just jump right in. I like Maren. And I think she might like me. Hell." I cringe. "I sound like a middle-schooler." I straighten and swallow, starting again. "I have feelings for her and sometimes I think she might have feelings for me, too, but I can't tell."

"Riggs?" Huck prods, removing his glasses and motioning to the screen with them.

"I haven't talked to Maren, but they do an awful lot of eye fucking."

I choke again. "What?"

Cameron shrugs. "What do you mean, what ?"

"Christ." I rub my palms against my eyes. "Never mind, I don't think I can do this."

"Joe. She's worth it. We've all been there. Literally been there. I had an anonymous erotic poetry account that I used to flirt with Lorelai, and Cameron learned how to build houses just to have sex with Shelby."

"That's an oversimplification." Cameron frowns at Huck on the screen.

"We don't have time for the ‘It all started when I was a tap-dancing eleven-year-old' version, Riggs."

These guys are idiots. I sink down onto the sofa in front of the island, facing them.

"I need to talk to Maren. I know this. Beyond the, um, eye fucking or whatever. I'm just… out of my depth. It's been like over twenty years since I've done this," I tell them. "I have no idea how this works nowadays. Do, um, I ask her out on a date? Or something?"

Cameron straightens, grinning wide. "That's a good start."

"It's just… we've hooked up? A few times?" My ears feel like they are on fire. This is humiliating.

"Okay," Huck says, gesturing with his glasses on-screen again. "And how was it?"

I roll my eyes. "Hot as hell. Obviously."

He grins. "That's good."

"Right. That's probably the reason for the supposed eye fucking, though I'm still not sure Cameron's reading that right."

"Shelby sees it, too," Cameron murmurs as if that settles it. Which I guess it kind of does.

Huck clears his throat. "I'm not sure I understand the issue."

I slump back against the sofa. "I don't, either."

"You like her?"

" Like her," I say, emphasizing like . "Yes. Very much."

"So what's holding you back?"

"I've known her family my entire life. Her brother is my best friend. That's one issue. She's also kind of hot and cold with me. I think she's interested and she's great with my kids, but she's younger than me and I don't even know if she wants kids, let alone mine."

Cameron purses his lips. "That's getting ahead of yourself, don't you think? You haven't even had a date."

"That's the thing, though!" I point out, agitated. "I can't even consider a date unless we're on the same page because our families and my kids are deal-breakers. Her not staying here is a deal-breaker. Which is completely selfish, I know. How can I ask any of that of someone without a first date? Let alone someone like Maren?"

Cameron's face falls into something more serious. "I see."

"You do?"

"Absolutely. That's a lot," he confirms easily.

Huck asks, "What do you mean, ‘someone like Maren'?"

I blow out a breath, my fingers tugging at my hair out of frustration, trying to find the words.

"Like, she's everything. Maren is beautiful inside and out. She's… she calms me. When I'm with her, it feels like home. She gives me that. It's comfortable, but she's also the sexiest woman I've ever known. I don't know how that's true, because growing up, I barely noticed her. Maybe she was just too young. But now it's like she can walk in the room, and every part of me notices. Before I even see her. I feel her there, and I want her, but I also just want to be near her to talk to her. To make her laugh. She laughs, and it's like… stupid."

"Stupid?"

"I mean, I'm… stupid. For her, though. And in general."

"Totally in love with her," Huck agrees. "Sorry, man. You're in it now."

I don't argue. I'm not ready to concede, but I can hear myself. "So what do I do?"

"Man." Cameron is laughing. "I have no idea."

I fall back against the couch cushion again, defeated.

Huck says, "I think you need to talk to her. But for all the reasons you already mentioned, I get why that's difficult. It's a lot of pressure really early on."

"And she isn't planning to stay."

The room is silent for a long minute, with Cameron sipping in contemplation, Huck lost in thought, and me in misery. Until Cameron brightens.

"Ask her to stay."

I try not to sound doubtful. "You think?"

The big man shrugs. "Can't hurt. The apartment and bait shop are nearly fixed up to sell, but she seems pretty cozy here. Ask her to stay through the holidays and let things progress, naturally. Hopefully, time will give you more perspective. Both of you."

The idea has merit. It's low stakes in the way that she can say no and that would be my answer, or she could say yes and we can spend more time together and see where it leads. Maybe I can even ask her on a date.

"That's not a terrible idea," I tell him after a beat.

"For what it's worth," he tells me, straightening off the counter, "I do think she likes you. She watches you nearly as much as you watch her. I'm hardly an expert—it took me a decade to work my garbage out with Shelby—but I do know it all came together when I made the decision to stay. You just have to have the guts to ask."

I nod. "I can do that. She's worth that."

"She is," Huck confirms. "They all are. Okay, now that that's all worked out, I have to go—I have Annie Mathers in the studio. Nice to officially meet you, Joe. Keep the first weekend in February open."

Huck disconnects the call and I look at Cameron as he puts away his phone. "February?"

Cameron grins. "His wedding."

When I decide to do something, I have to do it immediately. Now is late, yesterday would have been better. Cameron and Shelby left hours ago, and Maren told me she'd be at the apartment, painting her new, unpaneled, Sheetrocked walls. The late-October sky feels heavy, overcast, and smells like snow. Before I know it, the lake will be frozen over, and the ground will be hidden under a layer of ice and white. If I were Maren and wrapping up on things here, I would plan to leave before that happens.

So I'm asking her now.

Despite my talk with Cameron and Craig earlier, I'm still feeling awkward as fuck about this. Even with the kissing and flirting and spending time together over the last few months, it's easy to convince myself that I've somehow misread things and am about to make a massive misstep. In other words, I'm freaking out. And it's important to point out, I haven't freaked out about anything in years. I don't do freaking out. I get shit done, staying calm and cool. Collected. Freaking out gets you killed in the Marines.

"It's just a question," I say under my breath. "It's not life and death. You've held a live grenade in your hand. This is cake in comparison." On that happy note, I knock on the door before pushing it open.

"Hey, Joe!" Maren calls over her shoulder. She's paint-flecked and adorable in a pair of stained work overalls. There's a space heater on the floor behind her, humming as it warms the room, and soft country music playing from somewhere.

It's cozy because it's her. Maren makes every room she's in feel like that.

I shake off the nonsensical thought and wipe my sweaty hands down my jeans.

"Hi, I thought I could help. My mom is getting Anders off the bus today and Lucy is napping over there."

Maren's eyes widen in happy surprise. "That would be awesome! We'll get this room done in no time, then. There's an extra roller over there. I can finish the edges and you fill in behind me?"

"Sure."

I grab the roller and pour some paint in a plastic tray, taking my time so I don't spill. Then I start zigzagging my way along the wall she's already finished edging. We work in companionable silence for a long time. My nerves all but disappear. In fact, the repetition and the company calm me. And that in turn gives me the confidence to ask, because no one else has ever had this effect on me. My entire life, I've operated on high alert. Constantly aware and ready for anything at a moment's notice. Until now. Now, I feel… settled.

That has to mean something.

"Cameron said you were about finished," I say, careful to keep my tone neutral. I continue rolling the paint, not looking in her direction.

"Just about," she agrees. "I'm waiting on appliances to arrive for the apartment. Shelby helped me pick some basic but sturdy options. And I need to order custom shelving for the shop, but Cameron drafted some measurements and calculations for me, so it's just a matter of finding something I like. I'm thinking another month for shipping, but all the hard stuff is done."

"A month," I say, refilling my roller and dabbing the excess off. "That's well into November. Think you'll stay for Thanksgiving?"

I hear her brush pause in its strokes before picking up. "I hadn't thought of it, actually. Maybe? Got room for one more around the Cole table?"

"Always," I answer sincerely. "The kids would love it, too. Especially after Kiley bailed. It'll give us something extra to celebrate. A special guest this year."

Maren pauses again and I look up at her, meeting her eyes. "That's a very kind thing to say, Josiah Cole."

I shrug. "I meant it." I hesitate before laying it all out there. "You could stay for Christmas and New Year's, too."

"Oh." Her brows scrunch together. "I thought the kids were going to be with Kiley over the holidays. Don't tell me she's already canceled that, too?"

I honestly have no idea what my ex will do. "Not so far, though I wouldn't put it past her. But I was actually thinking you could stay and keep me company." I clear my throat. "Just, you know. Me. Without my kids."

This time Maren puts down her brush. She drops to one knee to steady herself and runs her fingers along her denim-clad legs, in a smoothing motion. Her head is tilted to the side and she studies me for a long beat. I refuse to shift or fidget, meeting her gaze straight on. Something else I perfected in the Marines. Being still. Waiting.

"You're asking me to stay?" she asks, her voice soft but clear.

"Yes."

"With you."

I nod. "With me."

I wait for her to ask me why. I don't have an answer if she does. Not one I feel like I can freely give her anyway. But she surprises me. She seems to know what I can't say.

"Okay. I'll stay."

I blink and can't help myself from checking. "Really?"

Her perfect mouth spreads into the sweetest smile I've ever had the privilege of seeing and something catches in my chest. "Yeah, really."

I pick up my roller and dip it in the paint, licking my lips and turning back to the wall. "Good."

A half second later I hear her brush resume, too. "Good."