That's (Not Exactly) Amore (25 page)

He frowns. “What sort of damage?”

“Nancy didn’t tell you about my new stepbrother’s tirade?”

I tell him the story. His eyes become stormy and his jaw clenches. “What did Mark do about it?”

“Well, that’s not really his jurisdiction.”

He gives me a look that clearly says I might be a little stupid at the moment. “I mean as a boyfriend. Not a cop.”

“Well, since he’s
not
my boyfriend, he didn’t do anything. Besides, he only found out on Wednesday.”

“And this happened Monday night?”

“Yes. Don’t ask. It’s a long story.” If only Joe knew that the warmth of his fingers laced through mine is making me wish we were walking in a garden with butterflies fluttering by. I smile at the ridiculous thought.

“You’re smiling again,” Joe says.

I cover my tracks fast. “I’m glad to see this place shaping up. It’s almost done.”

He sends me a curious frown. “You really aren’t excited about being a designer. Why not just bake for a living?”

“Yeah, right.” I laugh and nudge him.

“Honey, I’m serious. Between me and the family, we could keep you in enough business to make a good living. You could even buy your mom’s house.”

I start to get caught up in the pipe dream, but the way he said “the family,” combined with the memory of the handoff I witnessed a few minutes ago, sort of sours things for me.

“Thanks anyway, Joe. I think I’d better stick with the plan.”

He shakes his head. “Okay. But if you change your mind, all you have to do is say the word and we’ll get you set up real good.”

Now, is that not a mafia way to talk or what? What am I supposed to think?

24

B
efore I go back to my mom’s, I run home to grab a pair of shoes I need for Easter Sunday service the next morning. “Nancy?” I call when I walk in.

First I hear nothing. Then I hear scuffling. Fear grips me. Nancy would have answered me. What if the robber came back? I tiptoe back toward the door, reaching for my cell phone as I go. Just as I get to the door, I hear Nancy’s voice.

“Laini. Wait.”

Slowly I turn and there’s Nancy, her face washed in guilt. She’s wearing a satin robe. Behind her is . . . a man. I stare at them in disbelief. I mean, in all the years I’ve lived in this apartment, no one has ever violated the “man” rule. And this is a clear violation.

“Men aren’t allowed to sleep over,” I mumble, for lack of anything more intelligent to say.

“I know, Laini. I’m sorry.” She takes his hand. “I honestly didn’t mean for this to happen.”

The guy isn’t wearing a shirt. His lips are twisted in a sardonic smile—which I admit works when Rhett Butler does it to Scarlett, but I’m definitely
not
charmed. He steps forward and offers me his hand. I hesitate.

“Tyson,” he says. “You must be the absentee roommate.”

Does he think he’s funny? My eyes go wide as I leave his hand out there empty, alone. And I don’t care. “Tyson?”

“Yeah,” she says. Her eyes are pleading, and I can tell she doesn’t want me to bring up the fact that I know he’s married and is cheating. It’s so frustrating to watch an ignorant woman. What’s the point of her moving all the way to Manhattan to get away from this guy if all she’s going to do is fall back into his arms?

“I just came home to get a pair of shoes for
church
in the morning.” I can’t believe I just emphasized
church
like that. But this behavior throws me for a loop. I’m not a prude. But I do have my standards. And that was before I started going to church. Before I really started trying to live the way the Bible says Christians should live. And here Nancy is, a Christian by her own words, and she’s sleeping with this guy.

I just don’t get it.

“I’ll go with you to help you find them,” Nancy says quickly.

She practically pushes me down the hall and into my room, where she closes the door after us. “I know it! I know I’m an idiot and this is wrong.” Her eyes are filled with tears. “I love him.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nancy. This is wrong. Even if he weren’t married and weren’t cheating. I thought you felt the same way I do about sleeping around.”

“I’m not sleeping around. I love Tyson.” She swallows. “I know this is wrong, okay? I don’t need judgment from you.”

“Judgment? You think calling sin a sin is judging?” I scowl. “You’re a big girl. Choose your own commandments to break. But I don’t need this kind of stuff going on in my apartment.” My heart suddenly softens. “Plus, you don’t want a man who doesn’t love you.”

“He does, though! He’s leaving his wife and plans to move here.”

Is she kidding me? “Come on. You believe that?”

“I have to,” she whispers.

“Then believe him. But don’t expect me to condone your actions.”

Anger flashes in her brown eyes. “It’s so easy for you to stand there and judge me. You have two fabulous men panting over you, and you don’t have to do a thing.”

“Ha! What planet are you on? I only
wish
I had two fabulous men panting after me.”

Her eyes narrow, and her lips curl into a sneer. I’ve never seen this side of Nancy before. “Little Miss Innocent. Mark wants you so bad he can’t stand it. And Joe . . . Don’t even get me started on that doofus.”

Okay, Joe is
not
a doofus. Nancy barrels ahead without giving me the opportunity to defend myself or Joe.

“Joe won’t even look at anyone else since you stepped into the picture. It’s Laini this, and Laini that. And ‘Oh, this is the lightest, fluffiest roll I’ve ever had. If she wore this smell as a perfume, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. I’d have to marry her.’ He makes me sick and so do you.” She spews her venom, but I can’t be angry. Not when she’s telling me that Joe cares about me. I sort of smile at the thought.

“What?” she says, and her eyes go wide. “You mean you really didn’t know? Holy moly. I don’t believe it.” She shakes her head. “You’re a dope, Laini Sullivan.”

“Joe’s a doofus and I’m a dope, huh?” I grab my shoes from the closet floor and head to the door. “Sounds like we’re a good pair.”

She follows me down the hall. “I’m sorry, Laini. I didn’t mean to insult you. Can we talk about this?”

I turn and face her. “Yes, I’ll be back in a few days and we need to talk about what you plan to do. If you’re going to move out, then start looking. If you are staying, the rules have to be clearly established again. I have a reputation in this building, and I don’t plan to have people speculating about me because of you.”

Tyson is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, looking all casual, still shirtless. Still wearing that amused grin.

“Get him out of my apartment.”

“I will.”

“I want your word you’re not going to snuggle back into bed with him after I leave.”

Nancy lets out a breath. “Fine. You have my word.”

“I had it when you moved in here too. Remember? You agreed that you wouldn’t bring men into the apartment.”

Her face flushes red. She remembers.

I’m shaking by the time I and my shoes make it to the sidewalk.

During the drive back home, I think about what she said about Joe. “If she wore this smell as a perfume, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her.”

And tonight he mentioned how sexy I smelled. Joe is either a very weird guy with a dough fetish, or he truly is interested in me.

Oh, sure. Just my luck. He finally shows some real interest. A mobster with a thing for chubby girls that smell like bread. There is something very wrong with my life.

I’m still ticked off at Nancy when the phone rings later. I am in the middle of cleaning the pans I used today. I hate leaving dirty dishes, but since I was running late, there was nothing else I could do. Now my only consolation in all this mess is the thought of seven different paychecks. When I deposit them, I’ll actually have some savings. Of course my aunt has to be paid back for loaning me the money for design school, but that isn’t until I actually graduate.

When Nancy shows up on caller ID, I’m tempted to blow her off. It’s all I can do to be civil.

“Laini, before you say anything,” she says, her voice awash with tears, “I just want you to know I sent him away.”

“I appreciate that, Nancy,” I say quietly.

“He left me.”

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“He left me for good.”

What am I supposed to say? I’m sorry? I can’t bring myself to say that. Because I’m not.

“You were right, Laini. I confronted him again and he finally admitted that he’ll never leave her.” She takes a shuddering breath. “He yelled at me for bringing it up again.”

“I’m sorry he yelled at you, Nancy.” I know her heart is broken. But I can’t help being glad this happened. “I’m in a similar situation with Mark.”

She gasps. “Mark’s married?”

“No, but he might as well be. The girl he lived with for all those years just lost her apartment, and he feels so responsible that he moved her and her little boy in with him until she finds an apartment she can afford.”

“Did he break up with you?”

“First of all, he can’t break up with me because I was never his girlfriend, but no, he wants us both. He wants her for her son, I think, and he wants me for . . . who knows what?”

“Your cinnamon rolls?”

I giggle. “No. Joe’s the one who thinks dough is sexy. I’m just a rebound girl for Mark.”

“I doubt that. You underestimate yourself.”

“Well, whatever his interest in me, I told him I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“Good for you.” I have to smile at her cheering me on this way. This from the girl who . . . Well, no point rehashing that.

“What did he say?”

“Oh, he said he wants to call me when he gets Kellie into her own apartment.” I give a mirthless laugh. “When
he
gets her into an apartment. I ask you, does that sound like a guy who’s ready to turn loose of a former love?”

“Maybe not. But I don’t think he’s going to give up on you very easily.”

“He doesn’t have much of a choice. I’m not planning to give him a second chance.”

“Okay, listen. I really called for two reasons. One, to let you know that Tyson is gone for good. And I’ve been talking to one of my friends. Janine Reynolds. She’s looking for someone to bring into her design business to sort of train. You could work with her and get paid to learn as you go.”

“Did you tell her about my grades?”

“Yes. And do you know what she said?”

“What?”

“She said, ‘Girl, I flunked out of my entire first semester and barely made it through the rest of them. You tell that friend of yours to come see me. Sounds like we’re a perfect match.’”

As I hang up the phone with Nancy, a new sense of hope springs up inside me. I’m thinking maybe, just maybe, I can do this after all. I glance around my mom’s kitchen and I wonder . . . could I buy this place after all? Determination yanks at me. I can’t let it go without at least trying. How do I convince anyone that I’m a good risk? I feel like Scarlett O’Hara trying to find that three hundred dollars to pay the taxes on Tara. Maybe if I make a dress from Mom’s gold drapes and take the loan officer at the bank a pan of cinnamon rolls . . .

Tuesday morning dawns beautifully. A gorgeous sun peeks through white puffy clouds, and for once, there’s not even one little chance of rain in the forecast. Not for at least four days. And that puts a smile on my face.

That is, until I drive Aaron’s car to the bank, walk inside, and sit across from Mr. Brady, the loan officer. He deadpans a look at me as though I don’t already know there’s zero chance of my getting a loan. But after visiting with my new boss yesterday, I realize I can afford a house note if I’m very careful and supplement my income with baking. I mean, I obviously can’t take as many jobs as I do now, but I can make enough for a house payment. And that’s what I have to convince him of.

“I know you don’t have a lot to go on as far as my credit history is concerned. But as you can see, I’m never late on my credit card payment.”

“Miss Sullivan,” he says, taking a look first at my credit report and then at me. He takes off his reading glasses. “You have a Sears card and a Visa that is almost at its limit.”

Well, I mean, in my defense, a $5,500 limit isn’t really fair. If the company had offered me, say, a $15,000 limit, I wouldn’t be nearly as close to maxing out. “Yes, but I always pay on time and usually over my minimum payment.” I mean, shouldn’t that buy me some points even if it’s only a few dollars each month? “Plus, I mean, I know I don’t exactly have a steady job at this moment, but I have Janine’s affidavit that she is hiring me upon graduation in May, and I have a supplemental income as well, which I’ve had for several months.”

A condescending nod from him follows my speech. “I applaud that. It shows you will eventually be a wonderful candidate for a house loan. Just as your parents were. However, at this time, there simply isn’t enough of a credit history to qualify you for a mortgage.”

The glasses go back on as he breathes a heavy sigh. That simple action raises my hopes more than I care to admit. I can tell he’d like to help. I mean, it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry to see you lose your parents’ house,” he says, real regret tingeing his voice. “Your dad was a friend of mine.” A kind smile curves his lips upward. “But without a current job, a credit history, or a cosigner, there’s not a lot I can do for you. However, if you do come up with someone willing to cosign the loan, that might make a difference, provided you are able to make an acceptable down payment.”

I’ve never felt such defeat as I leave the bank. I don’t know why—even before I walked into Mr. Brady’s office, I knew a loan was out of the question. Mainly I wanted to know my options. I thought maybe a few thousand dollars for a down payment. But sheesh. I’d have to single-handedly line up the stars and achieve world peace before they’d consider me a candidate for their filthy lucre.

How does anyone get ahead in this world if no one will give you a chance?

25

M
arch is a creeping kind of month that never seems to end. Everyone looks forward to April and the promise of spring. But as far as I’m concerned, except for the name and expectation, April is no different from March. Weather patterns are pretty much the same: rainy, fifty or sixty degrees (which makes for cold rain), and not at all the pastel spring everyone pants for during January and February. So why the hype? Why the deceit?