Twenty-Six. What Kind of Man

TWENTY-SIX

What Kind of Man

Maren

(Earlier that same week)

I'd barely been in Nashville five minutes before I started having regrets about leaving him. And missing him. God, how I missed him. Pathetic. Stupid. Rash decision.

But it was the right choice. I know it was because I thought, before I left, that I could leave. That I could walk away and take another job in another state and be fine. If Liam pressed the issue or the kids didn't approve of me, or Kiley was an unbearable pain in the ass… I could start over, unscathed.

I thought wrong.

"You're head-over-ass in love with him," Lorelai says, smirking behind a glass of expensive red wine. We're sitting opposite each other on stylish, navy crushed-velvet sofas in the upstairs apartment of the duplex she shares with her fiancé, music producer Craig Boseman. She's curled her denim-clad legs under her and leans effortlessly against a squashy pillow. Her long black hair is gathered in a messy topknot and her face is bare of makeup. This is the Lorelai that I miss so much sometimes, it makes my chest squeeze. I'm so incredibly proud of her and all she's accomplished in taking back the reins of her career and facing down all the naysayers in country music who thought she couldn't overcome being unjustly canceled, dumped, and left unemployed. Obviously. And I adore Craig. He's her perfect match in every way. Soft to her hard, down-to-earth when she is flying high, and unrelentingly loyal.

That doesn't mean I don't wish she still lived just across town.

That said, I no longer live across town anyway. Which is why I'm here. Because as my best friend so aptly observed, I moved to Wisconsin and fell for Josiah Cole and now I need Lorelai's specific brand of straight talk.

"I am," I admit, before gulping my own glass of wine and making a face at the arid sweetness. My palate isn't quite as sophisticated as theirs. Lorelai and Craig love to tell stories about the early days when they drank cheap beer on grungy floors because they couldn't even afford furniture, but it's hard to remember back when they weren't as successful as they are now. Craig even named his massively popular recording studio On the Floor Records as an homage to his modest beginnings. They're very down-to-earth and well-adjusted and all that, but when it comes to their wine, they're straight-up snobs. "Head over ass," I rasp. "I think I have whiplash, it happened so fast. Like a car wreck, except I'm both the car and whatever the hell I've crashed into."

Lorelai whoops as Craig enters the room, his lanky form settling on the couch beside her. His hand curls around her bare foot and he beams at me, his clever eyes twinkling be hind his eyeglass frames. "That's the perfect description: a car wreck," he says with a tilt of his head. "Mind if I borrow it?"

I glare at him. "If you make my life into a country song, I will murder you."

Lorelai snorts and pats his knee. "Too soon, babe. She's still in the shocked-as-hell phase."

"Ugh. That makes it sound like the stages of grief."

"It's not that different." She starts ticking off on her fingers, still holding the glass. "Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance." She shrugs. "Sounds like love to me."

Craig groans theatrically. "You need to stop. This is screaming three chords and the truth. Y'all are killing me."

"Is this what it's like for you two all the time? Like, is every argument fair game for songwriting?"

Lorelai thinks. "Hm. Now that you mention it…"

"I don't know about arguments, but definitely foreplay," Craig admits, without shame. "Actually. Yeah, arguments, too. But there's a statute of limitations. Except instead of it being about not using material after so many years have passed, we have to wait to use it until both parties are over it."

"Usually after a minimum of five orgasms, at least three of which have to happen via tongue."

I sputter, the wine I'd just lifted to my lips dribbling down the front of my pajama top.

"It's in the fine print," Lorelai says.

Craig hands me a napkin. "Signed and notarized and sealed with a blood vow, I believe, wasn't it, honey?"

I catch my breath in time to roll my eyes. "Jesus H., you two. I think I'd rather stay in a hotel."

"Oh please," my best friend says. "We haven't argued in weeks. Don't be so dramatic."

"Can we focus back on my problems, please?"

"Of course, but remind me again what the problem even is?"

I narrow my eyes and take another sip. It goes down more smoothly this time. "I'm in love with him."

"And?"

"And I've never been in love before! This sucks!"

"Putting aside the alarming nature of that interesting tidbit considering you nearly married Shane, why does this suck? Joe seems great and so do his kids. You love Wisconsin and the resort, and I've never seen you so all-around-glowy and happy…"

"I didn't nearly marry Shane."

Lorelai waves a hand as if my statement is a gnat buzzing around her stemware. "Technicality."

"My brother is—"

"No thank you," she butts in. "Liam doesn't factor in this conversation."

"But he does! They've been friends longer than I've been alive."

"Then it's between the two of them, Mare."

"Not if it ruins things between them forever. I can't be the cause of that."

"I'm with Lorelai on this one," Craig speaks up gently. "I've… Well, okay." He turns to Lorelai and his face folds into a grimace. "I didn't tell you this because I didn't feel like it was my place." He turns back to me. "I spoke with your Joe a month or so back. Cameron Riggs called me up so we could give him a pep talk, if you will."

"WHAT?" Lorelai screeches, but she looks surprised more than angry. "Why?"

Craig still speaks to me. "He was freaking out a little… kind of like how you are right now. He really likes you, obviously, and he wanted to ask you to stay, which he did. Which is why I think it's okay to tell you this. He already asked you to stay and you did, and furthermore, you seem happy with your choice?" he confirms.

My entire body has gone still, but I manage a wooden nod.

"Right," he says. "Because you're in love with him. And you're worried that you fell in love and he's gonna snatch it back."

I nod again. "Something like that," I whisper.

"He won't. He didn't ask you to stay on a whim, Maren. I don't suspect Joe is the kind of man to do anything on a whim. He's got a lot more at risk here. He can't leave; you can. He's got a ready-made family; you don't. He's given his heart to someone before and they stomped on it; you've been fortunate enough to do the stomping in the past."

I inwardly wince at the truth in his words. "You sound like Liam."

"Yeah, babe, this isn't the motivational speech you think it is," Lorelai tells him.

His grin is soft and warm and 100 percent Huckleberry, and I'm reminded how this man managed to hook my fiery best friend. "But it is . Just hear me out. Joe knew all of that going in and still asked you to stay. He decided you, Maren, were worth the risk and he was up for the challenge. And you agreeing to stay proved you were willing to let him try to convince you."

"But that makes it sound uneven. Like I'm—" The catch . That's what Joe had said, wasn't it? You're the catch, Maren. My heart races and my face flushes and my hand sweats around the stem of my glass. "He said I'm the catch."

"You are," Lorelai confirms softly. "He's absolutely right."

"So is he, though," I tell them. "He's funny and charming and smart and handsome and he's this amazing dad and a thoughtful son and boss and friend…"

"Sounds like a perfect match, then."

"But what about my brother? And the kids' mom? And my job?"

"No idea, but it's been my experience that those kinds of things are better tackled together than apart."

"But I just got here."

Lorelai shakes her head. "That's not what I meant. Honestly, I'm of the belief that it's healthy to miss someone. It's a great litmus test to see if it's real."

"I already know I miss him."

"Give it a few days. Make it really burn and then we'll kick you out. Just imagine what the sex will be like." She waggles her eyebrows and I groan.

"There it is."

"Am I wrong?"

I remember the way Joe and I were interrupted in the boathouse and how it'd been days before that with our families in town and I feel a little twinge that makes me squirm and flush.

"You aren't wrong," I grumble, tipping back the last of my wineglass. I stand to put it in the sink. "I think I should probably get to sleep. It's been a long day." Hard to believe dancing in the boathouse had been this morning and now I'm here, without his arms.

Why did I do this again?

Right. Missing him. And thinking. Yeah. Well, that worked like a fucking charm.

I round the back of the couch, blowing kisses to my friends, and take myself to the guest room where I don't check my phone, knowing innately that he won't text me. He's going to give me the time and space I requested because that's the kind of guy he is.

The kind who thinks I'm the catch.

Well, when I get home, it'll be my turn to convince him he's my catch.

The return flight I chose when I booked my tickets is for a five-day trip and it's torture. At least four days too long, but I'm not that financially secure to where I can just book another flight, and I didn't pay for the insurance to swap things around. After two days, my brother calls. I don't pick up, and I don't call him back right away. I'm all for taking the high road, but I'm not above letting him sweat it out a little, first.

A day later, there's a knock at the door and low voices. Lorelai calls my name. For a split second, my heart jumps straight into my throat, thinking it's Joe.

I practically sail into the living room, but it's not Joe. It's Liam.

He looks jet-lagged and uncomfortable. Not only did he have to fly here, I imagine he's a little flustered at having to knock on Lorelai Jones's front door. I wonder how he got her address? I'm thinking he groveled to Lorelai. Despite this, he perks up when he sees me. "Maren! Hi!"

I bite back a smile at how out of place he looks, but don't offer to let him in. Not yet. "Hello, big brother."

"Good to see you."

I raise a brow, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms over my chest. "Is it?"

"Of course it is. Listen, I'm sorry for giving you shit about the olives and that other stuff, you know, with Joe."

"Woooow," I tell him, dragging the word out. "You flew all the way to Nashville and that's the best you got?"

"Yeah, well. I'm not sure how I feel about it all, to be honest, but I'm trying."

My tone is dry as sea salt. "How gracious of you. Well, if that's all…" I straighten off the doorjamb and reach for the handle.

"Come on, Mare. Don't be like that," he tries, but I cut him off.

"No, really. It's fine. You don't have to be okay with it. I just can't believe you came all the way here for that. You could have called."

"All right, look, I am," my brother admits in a rush, putting his hands out to stop me from closing the door in his face. "Okay with it, I mean. Do I want to hear about you two in the shower ever, ever again? Fuck no." He shudders and I gasp out a laugh.

"Oh god."

"But I deserved that. Is it weird? Yes. Do I think you might be awesome for each other?" He sighs, dropping his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, and I hold my breath. "Also yes."

I exhale.

"I'm sorry for being a dick. I'm sorry I made you feel like you were anything less than extraordinary."

"You made me feel anything but extraordinary, Liam. The complete opposite of extraordinary, even."

He looks stricken. "I'm sorry. I didn't—" He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have done that. Admittedly…" He stops and glances around, lowering his voice. "This feels weird, can I come in?"

"Not yet," I tell him. "Admittedly?" I prompt. He rolls his eyes with a huff and shifts his weight.

"Admittedly, maybe I'm a little jealous and I have been projecting."

My mouth drops open at his confession. "Jealous? Of what?"

"Of your freedom. I may or may not be going through a little bit of a midlife crisis. Or something. Hell, kid. I'm thirty-nine. Forty, next year."

"And you have so much to show for it! A hot wife who, confusingly, adores you. Two incredible children who look up to you, an amazing career that pays you stupid amounts of money…"

"Right. I know. Thank you." He grimaces. "And I'm grateful for all of it. I wouldn't change it for the world. But you? You can go anywhere and do anything you want. You're still at the beginning. If you wanted to pick up and fly to Fiji tomorrow and follow the migration patterns of the yellow-bellied crochet lizard—"

"That can't be a thing."

"Doesn't matter! You could anyway."

I open the door wider and hold out my arm. "All right. Come in."

He walks in and sits, perched on the edge of the couch as if he understands his position is still precarious. Smart man, my brother.

I sit across from him, on the arm of the other couch. Lorelai gets up from the table with her laptop in hand. "I'm just gonna go send emails in the other room."

I smile at her gratefully and return my attention to my brother. "You're right. I do have that kind of freedom. I could technically fly off somewhere and start over. I did fly off to Nashville, not to start over, but to give you and Joe some space, and I realize my own privilege in that.

"That said," I continue, "I don't want that freedom. I don't want to leave. I want to settle down and be still. I want to belong to someone. A few someones, even," I admit, thinking of Lucy and Anders. "I wasn't looking for that and I certainly wasn't trying to find it with Joe. But…" I shrug.

"But you found it with Joe," my brother finishes.

I nod.

"Have you told him this?"

"Not yet."

"You should."

"I will."

"I'm sorry again for how I made you feel. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I wasn't thinking."

"Thank you."

Liam slumps onto the couch finally, gazing around. "This is a little weird, huh? I assumed a country music star's house would be… bigger."

"You should see our cabin," Lorelai says, coming back in the room. "It's little more than a shack and it makes this place look like a palace. Is it safe to come back in now?"

"Yeah, you missed all the gory stuff."

"Oh, I heard every bit." She flashes a wink at my brother. "You staying the night, Liam?"

"I can get a hotel…"

"No need. There's another guest room in the downstairs apartment. Why don't you get freshened up and I'll take you both out for dinner."

A few minutes later Liam leaves to unpack and get cleaned up downstairs and Lorelai returns from showing him around.

"Well." She fans her face. "He's back to being cute again since he got his head out of his ass."

For the first time in three days, I laugh.