How To Fit Your Foot In Your Mouth
I had no idea what I was watching on TV.
It was some bullshit talk show, but none of what they were talking about pertained to my situation right now.
I doubted any would.
There was nobody else like Halley.
Somehow, I’d pissed her off. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d managed to do it, but if I had to guess, it was my flippant comment about naming wildlife.
It was weird, but that was Halley’s kind of weird.
It was part of her.
I should have known better than to bring it up like it was a fault of hers. The truth was that it wasn’t. It wasn’t a fault. It was one of her strongest qualities.
I’d have to tackle her to make her listen to me now though.
There was something to be said for texting, and none of it was good.
A sarcasm font would be fucking magic, thank you.
Now, I had to fight my way out of this. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Halley stood by what she believed in with a fervent determination that was nothing short of admirable. I also knew that she didn’t suffer fools and that she wasn’t interested in anyone who was going to devalue anything she stood for.
The only good thing here was that she didn’t have a choice but to see me. The booth meant that we had to spend hours a day together, and there was no way she could avoid me entirely.
My front door shook as someone banged against it. The incessant rattling was quickly joined by a second fist, and I didn’t need an expert to tell me who was outside.
The cavalry had arrived.
I could have sworn that Reagan and Ava had jobs.
I tugged the door open just enough that my face fit through the gap. “Who let you in?”
“Mrs. Hennington on the second floor,” Ava answered.
“I buzzed her and told her you’d been a fuckboy, and she let us in. After she’d had an explanation over what a fuckboy is,” Reagan continued.
“Miscommunication does not equal a fuckboy,” I shot back. “Why are you both here?”
“We’re here to help you.” My sister retied the scarf that held her long hair back from her face. “Believe it or not, we actually believe that you and Halley have what it takes to go the distance, but we aren’t happy with you right now.”
“It was a miscommunication!”
Ava shoved at the door. “Lesson one: never joke about what she cares about the most.”
“Thanks, Sherlock. I hadn’t figured that out.”
“Are you sassing me?” She stalked across my living room and snapped her fingers. “I didn’t think so!”
“Settle down.” Reagan wandered into my kitchen and opened my fridge, peering inside. “If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page. Preston, where are you?”
“In my apartment,” I said dryly. “Being assaulted with two wannabe cupids who can’t let nature take its course.”
“You’ll fuck up nature.” Reagan shut the fridge and pulled herself up onto the counter. “I have not dedicated this much time to getting your sorry asses together for you to falter at the first hurdle.”
“You’ve done nothing.”
Ava coughed. “Actually, we’re like spies. We work behind the scenes. Which makes it even worse that I have to say this: Do not attack the raccoons!”
I stared at her. “Call Sherlock. He appears to have lost his Watson.”
“Preston!”
“It was a joke!” I snapped, turning on them both. “Why don’t you ask Halley why she was so hurt by what I said? Humor doesn’t translate well over text. That’s not my fault.”
“Because I know!” Reagan shouted. She froze, rubbing her hand over her mouth before she sagged. “You hurt her, Preston, and the reason why is irrelevant. She doesn’t need to justify her feelings to you. You know she loves animals—your text was misconstrued, but it matters to her. We don’t always need to give someone a reason for why their words hurt us.”
Ava rested her hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “Sometimes, words hurt because they came from someone we never expected would hurt us.”
Reagan glanced at her, then me. “And sometimes, it’s because it comes from someone we always thought would hurt us.”
“Are you saying Halley thinks I’d deliberately hurt her?” My voice cracked halfway through. “That’s bullshit!”
“Not to her.” Ava came and sat on the other end of the sofa. “She’s such a gentle soul, Preston. She’s so easily hurt. Her mom cares more about her marriages than her, and she has so many years of pain tied up in her identity. Her dad loves her more than anything, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
Reagan swallowed. “We’re the only people she trusts. She doesn’t believe she’s good enough for anyone. It’s not her fault—it’s simply that her mom’s half-assed attempt at parenting has told her as much. If you tell someone something enough times, they’ll believe it.”
“She doesn’t show it.” I ran my hand through my hair and sank down on the sofa. “Jesus, I don’t know what to do about this. She’s so… confident.”
“Well, she’s not. She might appear it, but that’s because everyone expects it of her. Everyone expects her to be this outgoing, confident person, so she becomes that to hide the fact that she has the self-confidence of a bag of oranges.”
“How the hell am I supposed to know that?”
“You’re not,” Ava said brightly, a smile spread across her face. “You’re supposed to wing it like everyone else.”
“Then why am I the bad guy here?”
“Because you hurt her feelings.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Reagan slid off the counter and joined us by the sofa. “Of course you didn’t. Nobody is saying that you did, you absolute oaf. You still have to fix it.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Jesus, Lord, give me strength!” Ava looked to the ceiling. “You apologize!”
I raised an eyebrow. “That never crossed my mind.”
“Have you done it yet?”
“No. I wanted to say it in person. Texting her caused this situation.” I leaned back on the sofa. “You can’t tell me that was a bad idea.”
They both opened their mouths to presumably argue with me, but quickly changed their mind and answered with a shake of their heads.
“No. It makes sense.” Reagan sighed as if it’d been hard for her to actually admit that. “Did your date go well until that point?”
“You mean you haven’t already spoken on the phone for two hours, dissecting every second of the entire evening so you can psycho-analyze every word I said and every single thing I did?”
“Actually, no.” Ava shrugged. “She was far too mad at you to recount any second. It was annoying, actually. There was something about a horny raccoon I didn’t understand.”
“I can help with that.” I got my phone from the table and opened our messages from the previous night, scrolling until I found the video she’d sent me. “Here.”
Reagan took the phone from me, and Ava leaned over her shoulder to watch. It was only a short video, literally seconds long, but it took probably only two for them both to respond.
They burst out laughing with my sister almost dropping my phone in the process. I leaned over and took it back before she smashed the screen and I had to pay a small fortune to fix it.
Reagan brushed tears from her cheeks. “Is that a stuffed raccoon it’s humping?”
“Yep. The one I won for her at the stupid milk bottle stall.”
“I bet it was Boris,” Ava said. “He’s a horny little bastard.”
“Even you know their names?”
“Well, yeah.” Her eyebrows went up. “They’re important to Halley, which means they’re important to us. If she’s on vacation, we take turns to go over and feed them. That’s what you do when you care about someone. You care about the things that matter to them.”
“I don’t need a lecture on being a good person.” I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands together in front of me. “I didn’t know they were that important to her. I guess I’m struggling to get my head around it—they’re wild animals. I always thought it was cute, but she really cares about them, doesn’t she?”
Reagan and Ava shared a look.
“She does,” my sister said with a nod. “It started out as a joke, but over time, it just became a part of her routine, and the raccoons became a part of her life. We call her the crazy raccoon lady because she is, but it’s something she embraces.”
“So you’re telling me that some people enter a relationship with kids, but Halley comes with raccoons.”
“Pretty much,” Ava said brightly. “And you’ve not only pissed off Halley, but you’ve pissed off the part of her that loves those little dirtbags.”
Reagan nodded her head. “If I were you, I’d make some sandwiches.”
***
I wasn’t going to make sandwiches.
I told myself that a thousand times. I wasn’t going to do it. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t going to feed wild animals, and that was that.
Which was exactly why I was walking toward the kissing booth with my backpack filled with peanut butter damn sandwiches.
That’s right.
I’d given in and made the sandwiches. If this was how I had to prove to Halley that I wasn’t a total ass and I did care, then this was how I had to do it.
I’d never considered for a second that she didn’t have any self-confidence. The more I thought about what Reagan and Ava had said, the more it sunk in. Everyone in town knew about her family relationships, thanks to her dad being who he was, so the fact that her relationship with her mom was strained wasn’t all that surprising.
I guess I lived in a perfect world where my parents were married and happy, so I’d never experienced that pain.
Much less constant weddings.
It wouldn’t surprise me if her, Reagan, and Ava had a bet on her mom’s upcoming marriage to Stephen.
I wanted to know more about how she felt. It was the first time I’d honestly felt like I really cared about someone. Last night was the first date I’d been on since college where I could see a future with the other person.
There was something about Halley Dawson.
And whatever it was, it was fucking captivating.
The rope that signaled the booth was closed was open, dragging on the floor. One end was in a bit of mud, so I gave it a tug until it was out of it. It was heavy enough without being soaked in mud, too.
Pushing the curtain open, I readied myself for the onslaught of anger that I was sure I was going to get.
“Sorry, we’re not—” Halley turned and stopped when she saw me. “Oh, hey, it’s you.”
She smiled.
She fucking smiled.
I faltered for a moment. “Hey,” I responded. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” She went back to straightening up the stage. “What’s up?”
Was she being serious? “What do you mean, what’s up? Isn’t it obvious?”
“If it was, I wouldn’t have asked.”
I put down my backpack and leaned on the edge of the stage. “All right, cut the crap. I already had a visit from Tweedledum and Tweedledee and know that you’re pissed at me.”
She jerked her head around. “I’m not pissed. It’s fine. We went on one date, Preston. It’s not the end of the world.”
I slid my bag across the wood toward her. “Open that.”
“I’m not going in your backpack.”
“Just open it.”
“No. I can’t imagine that there’s anything in there I need to see.” She pushed it back toward me. “It’s fine. You think it’s weird that I name raccoons and can tell them apart. I even felt one up last night.” She shrugged a shoulder and grabbed the cup of coffee that was sitting on the stool. “It is weird—”
“But it’s your kind of weird,” I finished. “Look, what I said didn’t come across well. It was supposed to be a joke, but I didn’t know how important they are to you until Reagan and Ava came over this morning.”
Halley pursed her lips.
“Open the bag.”
She continued to stare at me.
I sighed and reached for the zipper. “Fine. I’ll do it.” I opened my backpack and pushed it back over to her.
Her gaze darted down at it, and her cheek twitched. “Is that a backpack full of peanut butter sandwiches?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, why do you have a backpack full of peanut butter sandwiches?”
“It’s a peace offering.” I fought a smile. “And an apology. To you and the raccoons.”
“I’m not sure the raccoons had their feelings hurt, but a day off making sandwiches sounds like a real treat.” She peered over at me, biting her lower lip. “I overreacted a bit.”
“To be honest, insinuating that you needed therapy was a step too far.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.” Shaking her head, she zipped the backpack back up. “But while we’re on the subject of weird, this is the weirdest apology I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah. I figured I had to fight weird with weird.” I smirked. “So… we’re good?”
It felt like forever until Halley finally smiled. “We’re good. At least Betty won’t have to hear me talk shit about you tonight.”
I ran my tongue over my lower lip and grinned. “She’s probably still mad at Boris for cheating on her with a stuffed animal.”
“True.” She pointed at me. “It was touch and go there for a moment. Now I can add sweeping a raccoon out of my kitchen to the list of things I never thought I’d do.” She turned, then stopped. “See, talking to you about the raccoons? Now it feels weird. It’s not this strange when I’m sitting on the back porch alone.”
I laughed and climbed up onto the stage with her. Taking the coffee from her, I set it back on the stool, then ran my hands down her arms. “So… are we still on for the second date?”
“We’ll see.” She peered up at me. “You have to feed my raccoons first.”