Hang the Moon, page 14
Annie grabbed her purse and scurried into the bathroom.
Chapter Twelve
Annie closed Darcy’s front door and rested her weight against the wood. A whimper escaped her lips as she slid to the floor, landing in a pitiful heap atop the welcome mat. She shoved the heels of her hands into her eyes, her fingers trembling ever so slightly against her brows.
She was so entirely screwed.
“Ahem.”
She jolted, knocking her arm into the door, groaning at the blow to her funny bone.
Darcy sat on the far end of her sofa, legs crossed neatly, her hair cascading over her shoulders in loose curls. She looked like a redheaded Veronica Lake, complete with a vintage-style dressing gown. Like some sort of film noir detective missing only a cigarette, Darcy drummed her fingers against the arm of the couch and scrutinized Annie through narrowed eyes.
“Have fun?” Her right brow arched.
Hands braced against the floor, Annie hauled herself to standing. Maybe Darcy would be kind enough to pretend she hadn’t witnessed the beginning of Annie’s meltdown. “Shouldn’t you be at work? What happened to I’ve got my boss breathing down my neck, important accounts, long nights, et cetera?”
Darcy gestured to her open laptop atop her coffee table. “I decided to work from home when someone was out all night.”
Annie rolled her eyes and slid off her flip-flops. She collapsed against the couch and kicked her feet up onto Darcy’s lap. Darcy wrinkled her nose. “I texted you. We missed the last ferry. No big.”
“No big?” Darcy’s brows rose.
Life would’ve had to be too kind for Darcy to let Annie’s sleepover and floor mini-meltdown go unmentioned.
No big.
Annie remembered how it had felt, waking up in Brendon’s arms. How, for a moment, she’d forgotten all the reasons why getting close to Brendon, letting him in, was a bad idea. How it wasn’t the first time she’d lost her head around Brendon. How it kept happening and how each time she struggled more and more to tear herself away.
Annie let out a desperate laugh. “I’m so confused,” she muttered, staring up at the shadow shapes on Darcy’s ceiling.
Darcy patted her hand gently. “Where’s your head at?”
“Pfff.” Annie scoffed. “I don’t know.”
Darcy waited.
“Brendon’s . . . he’s sweet. He makes me laugh.” Plus, she wanted to do dirty things to him she wasn’t about to tell Darcy. “He seems like a great guy, but he’s looking for . . .” Annie searched for the word. “Magic. He wants fireworks. He’s got this picture in his head of what love’s supposed to be like. It’s all . . . feelings.”
Darcy frowned. “Love is a feeling, Annie. A really great one.”
“No. I mean, yes. Obviously. But it’s also a choice. It’s . . . it’s a verb. Falling in love is one thing, but staying in love? Feelings fade, you know that.”
Darcy nodded.
“It takes a . . . concerted effort to keep a relationship afloat.”
An effort most people didn’t want to expend. Not in her experience.
“And you don’t think my brother can, what? Hack it?” Darcy asked, sounding offended on his behalf.
“I didn’t say that. You are the one who told me he’s constantly going on first dates looking for the right girl. The one. But”—she bit down hard on her cheek—“what happens when something better comes along?”
Not that she assumed he thought of her as that. The one. God, no. But he’d mentioned sparks. Said he wanted to get to know her.
Brendon seemed like a genuinely great guy, but for the most part, everyone she’d dated had seemed great at first. Just like she must’ve seemed—at the very least—pretty decent to those people, too. As much as she felt something for Brendon, he seemed in love with the idea of love. Infatuated with the chase. Maybe even a little infatuated with who he thought she was, perhaps some remnant of his teenage crush making her a little rosier to him than she’d have been had he not known her, once upon a time.
In a completely hypothetical situation where she wasn’t moving to London, where she lived here, what would happen if she let him in more than she already had? What if he didn’t like her nearly as much as he thought he would? What if she liked him more than she already did after just a few short days? What if, as soon as she was a sure thing, she lost her shine?
“Brendon doesn’t want to settle for anything less than someone who’s perfect for him,” Darcy said. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Internally, she groaned. Talking about this with Darcy was a bad idea and she’d known it.
“Brendon deserves the best,” Darcy plowed on. “But I’m biased. I’m also pretty sure there’s not a person on this planet better than you, so . . .” Darcy cracked a smile. “Consider me biased on both fronts.”
Her sinuses tingled, her eyes flooding. Fuck. “Warn me before you say something like that.” Annie sniffed hard, blotting at the corners of her eyes. “Jesus.”
She’d missed this. Missed clicking with someone the way she did with Darcy.
“I also think you aren’t giving my brother the credit he’s due,” Darcy said. “I’m confident he’d be deeply committed. He just needs to find the right girl to commit to.”
“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “That can’t be me.”
Even though, after the last week, and last night in particular, she’d started to wonder what it would be like if that girl were her. A what-if. Nothing more. She couldn’t help what thoughts popped into her brain and wouldn’t leave. She had zero control over that sort of thing.
Darcy pursed her lips and stood, wandering off toward her kitchen. She opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of wine inside the door. “Hmm.”
Not this again. “Darcy. Cut it out.”
She snagged two glasses and carried them into the living room, filling both and passing one to Annie. “I think you and my brother both want the same thing. Only, you have wildly different ways of reacting to not getting it.”
Annie gripped the stem of her glass and stared. “Uh, yeah, that makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Darcy said, sitting down. “You’re clearly disenchanted with the people you’ve been dating because they haven’t lived up to your expectations. You’ve been let down.”
“I never said—”
“A lot of little disappointments,” Darcy said, mimicking her, head teetering from side to side.
Annie bit her tongue.
“And Brendon’s looking for someone who will live up to his expectations,” Darcy said, swirling her wine. “Neither of you have found what you’re looking for, but he’s thrown himself into dating headfirst, searching high and low, upping the ante. You’ve pumped the brakes. He’s got high hopes. You’ve lowered your expectations.”
Annie scoffed. “Wow. Who needs therapy when you have a best friend who thinks they know everything? Runs in your family.”
Darcy offered her a tiny smile. “Am I wrong?”
Annie said nothing.
“Look, you want to know why I wound up giving Elle a chance? Giving my feelings a chance? It’s because of what you told me. Carpe diem.” Darcy sipped her wine, studying Annie over the rim of her glass. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”
They were good words, words to live by. Or they had been. Somewhere along the way, Annie had gotten tired of being the only one doing the seizing. The only one trying. The only one who cared.
“There will be no seizing when it comes to your brother,” Annie said crisply. “In fact, I did some thinking on the drive back from Port Townsend.”
Darcy cocked her head.
If Annie couldn’t control her thoughts around Brendon, she’d simply have to see less of him. A lot less of him. “As much as I appreciate his offer to show me around, I think it would be in both our best interests if we . . . saw a little less of each other.”
A lot less of each other.
“Sure.” Darcy smirked. “You can start by seeing a lot less of each other tomorrow at game night.”
Annie shut her eyes. Damn it.
“Carpe diem,” Darcy taunted.
Annie let loose the closest thing to a growl that had ever passed her lips, because this was so not going according to plan. “It is a moot point. I’m moving to London. I can’t exactly give Brendon a chance from five thousand miles away.”
“You’re not five thousand miles away yet.” Darcy reached out, covering Annie’s hand. “You’re here. He’s here. And if my brother wants to try to give you a reason to stay? You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not exactly keen on discouraging him.”
Chapter Thirteen
Friday, June 4
What Board Game Are You Based on Your Zodiac Sign?
Aries—Battleship
Taurus—Life
Gemini—Trivial Pursuit
Cancer—Sorry
Leo—Clue
Virgo—Scrabble
Libra—Chutes and Ladders
Scorpio—Scruples
Sagittarius—Jenga
Capricorn—Monopoly
Aquarius—Cranium
Pisces—Candy Land
FROM: BrendonLowell@OTP.net
TO: JianZhao@OTP.net, KatieDrake@OTP.net, JenniferSmith@OTP.net, . . . 6 others
SUBJECT: Meeting Invitation
WHEN: Friday, June 11, 2 p.m.–3 p.m.
WHERE: Microsoft Teams Meeting
Hey everyone,
I had an idea (!!!) re: the new user acquisition that we discussed during last week’s meeting. I checked everyone’s calendars before scheduling, but let me know if you have any conflicts and we can work a different date out. I blocked out an hour, but we might not need it.
I have a great feeling about this.
Best,
Brendon
P.S. It might be helpful to read up on the five love languages prior to our meeting.
With his last email of the day sent, Brendon powered down his monitor. He was reaching for his keys when his phone buzzed twice in quick succession, rattling loudly against the edge of his keyboard.
DARCY (6:03 P.M.): Where are you? Elle and Margot are getting restless. They’re attempting to coerce me into having my aura photographed.
DARCY (6:03 P.M.): My *aura*, Brendon.
He checked the time and winced. He was only running a little late, but Darce was a stickler for punctuality. Even if it was only game night.
BRENDON (6:04 P.M.): On my way!
Elle and Margot’s apartment was ten minutes from his office, fifteen if he caught every traffic light, which, mercifully, he did not. He made it across town in eight minutes, a new record, and glided to a stop beside the curb just as it started to drizzle.
Elle answered his knock, bouncing on her bare toes in the doorway. “Hey, Brendon. Come on in.” She stepped back and shouted, “Darce, your brother’s here!”
Like always, the place smelled faintly of patchouli, but beneath that was a sharper, more acrid smell. Cloyingly sweet and also . . . burned. Upon entering the kitchen, the culprit was clear. A plate of chocolate chip cookies—he was pretty sure those had been chocolate chips, perhaps raisins—sat on the counter, their edges charred black.
Elle reached inside a cabinet, withdrawing an assortment of cups, none of them matching. She placed his favorite, a cup resembling a mock Holy Grail, in front of him. “We’ve got the usual suspects. Wine, water, and . . .” She shut one eye, thinking. “Coffee.”
“Water works, thanks.”
“Oh! We might have hot chocolate but it’s the kind without the marshmallows.”
“No, you have the ones with marshmallows. They’re behind your coffee filters, beside the box of apple cider packets that expired in 2014.” Darcy stepped inside the kitchen, posting up against the counter. “Hey. You made it.”
“When have I ever missed game night?” He smiled when Elle passed him his cup of water. “Thanks.”
Elle paused in the doorway of the kitchen, a plastic souvenir cup of rosé in hand. “You guys coming?”
“In a second,” Darcy said. “I need to talk to Brendon about something.”
“Sure. We’re still waiting on Annie, anyway.”
Elle skipped from the kitchen, leaving him with Darcy.
“Annie didn’t come with you?” He frowned.
Darcy crossed her arms, pinching the stem of her wineglass. It was probably the only real glass in this apartment. “No. She wasn’t at my apartment when I came home from work. I texted her and she said something about wandering the market. I gave her Elle’s address and she promised to meet us here.” Darcy flipped her wrist over, checking the time. “If she’s not here in fifteen minutes, I’ll text her. Until then, I thought I’d take advantage of her not being here so you and I could have a little tête-à-tête.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Tête-à-tête?”
“Do you want to hear what Annie told me after you dropped her off yesterday or not?”
His stomach contorted, because of course he wanted to know what Annie had said, especially if it had to do with him. “Let me think . . . is water wet?”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “She thinks you’re sweet. You make her laugh. She told me you have chemistry.”
He nodded slowly. Sweet. Funny. Chemistry. His brows rose. Yeah, he could work with that. “Great.”
“But—”
“Why does there always have to be a but?” he muttered.
Darcy frowned sympathetically. “I think she’s afraid that you like the idea of her more than you like her.”
Like the idea of her more than . . . “What gave her that idea? That’s completely not true. That’s—” He broke off with a groan. “Jesus. Does this have to do with my crush? Because come on. Last Friday was the first time I had seen Annie in eight years. I’m not carrying a torch for the girl I used to like when I was in high school. I like Annie now.”
He’d had a great time getting to know who Annie was now. A fantastic time. She was hilarious, her sense of humor meshing perfectly with his. She could laugh at herself and she was—fuck, she was stunning. There were sparks. The sort of connection he’d been searching for, unable to find no matter how many dates he went on.
There was nothing wrong with any of the girls he’d dated, but they hadn’t been right for him. The last few dates he’d gone on had been with women he’d met on OTP, and on paper, they’d had plenty in common. But in person? Nothing. He hadn’t felt any of the sparks he was supposed to when they’d spoken, and his skin hadn’t tingled when they touched. He hadn’t even felt remotely warm.
Nothing held a candle to the way he burned when Annie touched him.
He didn’t want to put the cart before the horse and call Annie the one, but there was too much potential between them for him to just throw in the towel. If anything, it sounded like he needed to step up his game.
“I know you do,” Darcy stressed. “You’re a romantic, but I never pegged you as certifiable. I’d have never asked you to spend time with my best friend if I thought you were just trying to live out some teenage fantasy.”
“But that’s what Annie thinks?”
“She didn’t say that. She didn’t mention your crush on her at all, actually.” Darcy took a sip of wine and set her glass aside. “What I’m about to tell you is in confidence, okay?”
He was too engrossed in the conversation to make a quip about how all of this was in confidence. “Okay.”
“Annie’s dating history is . . . lackluster. She hasn’t had the best experiences. I think she’s afraid of being disappointed. Again.” Darcy frowned. “She’s a little . . . skittish. I think more so now that she’s realized she really likes you. I just wanted you to know what you’re up against.”
He frowned, nodding slowly. He wouldn’t call them confessions, but some of what Annie had said certainly aligned with what Darcy had said. How, when he’d said the point of his favorite movies was to show that love could conquer all, Annie had scoffed and said seeing was believing. How she believed romance was dead.
What Annie needed was someone to show her that disappointment wasn’t an inevitability. Someone who knew how to listen. Someone who liked her, not the idea of her like she was worried about.
Not just anyone, but the right someone.
“I won’t disappoint her.”
Her expression softened. “I know you won’t.”
Darcy gave his arm a gentle squeeze on her way out of the kitchen.
Brendon eyed the plate of burned chocolate chip cookies and sad assortment of snacks on the counter before fishing inside his pocket for his phone.
* * *
“Thank God. I was about to send out a search party,” Darcy teased, waving Annie inside Elle’s apartment.
Annie had spent the day exploring the parts of Pike Place Brendon hadn’t gotten around to showing her last Saturday, namely the lower levels, which gave eclectic a whole new meaning. There was a magic shop, a luggage store, a store dedicated to all things purple—a real head scratcher—and more smoke shops than she could shake a stick at. The hours had flown by and she was still positive she hadn’t explored every nook and cranny the market had to offer.
“Sorry I’m late. Completely lost track of time.” She slipped off her sandals, leaving them beside a haphazard pile of shoes near the door. “I hope you guys weren’t waiting for me to start.”
A loud shriek came from further inside the apartment.
Darcy winced. “It’s fine. They decided to play Egyptian Ratscrew to pass the time. I’m glad you’re here because it’s starting to get a little . . . violent.” Her eyes dropped to the shopping bag Annie was holding. “What’s that?”
Annie swung the bag behind her back. “It’s nothing. Just something I saw at the market.”
One of Darcy’s brows rose. “Can I see?”
It was an impulse purchase. A dumb one she was already regretting.
Annie had spotted a colorful-looking store that, in addition to comics, sold movie memorabilia—everything from mugs to action figures to movie screenplays. The script of When Harry Met Sally had jumped out at her. Against her better judgment, she’d joined the checkout line with only one thought on her mind, and it was how she was dying to see the look on Brendon’s face when she gave it to him.
