Читать книгу Some Days Are Diamonds - Stephanie Surma - Страница 4

“Turn left here, Doll.”

Elle nodded silently and made the turn, trying to keep herself grounded while she drove. If it weren’t for Logan giving her directions in a calm, patient, firm tone, she’d have probably driven herself into a tree at this point.

She’d never come through the back way to their place, before. John and Logan lived in a cozy suburban neighborhood about ten minutes from Main Street, and no more than half an hour from her old apartment. The houses came in all different shapes and sizes and colors, a far cry from the faded, cookie-cutter houses from her childhood neighborhood. Tall oak and maple trees stood in a few yards, casting their proud shadows onto the road and over her car as she passed them. There were even people in this neighborhood— a man mowing his lawn, a woman walking her dog. Kids played out in the early August heat, as the warm golden rays of a summer afternoon sun stretched over them.

It should have been a cheerful, heartwarming sight. Happy and summery. And yet, all she wanted to do was sit in total silence and decompress. It had already been a rough day, both physically and emotionally.

“Right here,” Logan said a few moments later, pointing vaguely through the windshield.

“I know,” Elle said mildly. “Blue mailbox, obnoxiously long driveway. Can’t miss it. Almost like I’ve been here before. Weird.”

Logan chuckled, while Elle turned into the— god, it really was an obnoxiously long driveway. She’d never really noticed. The house at the end of it was massive, and a little daunting, but it was also rather pretty. She’d always thought so, ever since she’d helped Logan move in with John right after college. It had a sort of rustic feel to it, stones climbing up one side and slate grey siding on the other. Dark blue window shutters stood out against the house’s facade, as did the enormous wooden front door. The effect was almost face-like, but somehow, more welcoming than creepy. There were so many slants and angles, a tall chimney standing proudly in the back.

“There we go,” Elle murmured, putting her car into park. She looked out the window, past Logan, to the red door of the garage. “This really is a pretty house.” And now she was going to live here, too.

“Ask John about it, some time,” Logan told her, already opening his door. “It’s got a lot of history.” As they both got out, Elle heard the front door of the house open in the distance. “Ah, looks like he’s home already.”

Elle’s stomach somersaulted. She really didn’t want John knowing how stressed out and anxious she was about moving in with him and Logan.

It had been bad enough, having Logan— as well as Ben, and Haley, and Haley’s boyfriend Jack— listening to her cry while she’d tried to explain what had happened with Gina. She’d been so incoherent, they’d each ended up reading Gina’s letter, all with carefully blank expressions. It had been a level of mortifying she hadn’t really been prepared for. Nor, she thought, would she ever get over it.

“Here we go,” Logan grunted, hoisting her enormous and ancient black suitcase from her trunk. “Hey, John!” Elle felt her heart sink even further and shut her eyes, bent into the back seat with a bag in her hand. She could do this. “You’re just in time. Here, take this suitcase, would you?”

“Sure.”

Still. They’d gotten her stuff put together and carted to the storage place on Main in only a few hours. Ben and his truck had been a godsend, and Haley and Jack had kept the ball rolling while Logan kept Elle focused on her packing checklist. She didn’t know how to thank them enough.

Elle straightened up on the other side of the car and forced herself to smile. She watched as John took the suitcase from Logan, lifting it like it weighed next to nothing, and waved when he glanced over at her. “Hi,” she said.

He smiled at her. It wasn’t weird, in and of itself, but seeing his usually stoic face break into a grin at the sight of her— it was like something in her chest unclenched and relaxed.

She could do this. She could look John in the face and gracefully accept his kindness, and not be weird about it. They were friends— they were friends, right?— and he wanted to help her, as much as Logan and Ben and Haley did. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have offered her a place to stay while she glued the scattered pieces of her life back together.

“Hey, Elle!” John took the bag Logan shoved into his arms. “You guys got done earlier than I thought. I was about to text and ask if you needed help.”

“Haley and Jack and Ben came,” Logan explained, already playing the mother hen and taking things from Elle’s hands. She didn’t have too many, but since she hadn’t been sure how long it would take her to find her own place, she’d just brought a little of everything. A couple of duffels, a plastic bin of all of her toiletries, a box of pictures that she probably wouldn’t even bother unpacking but couldn’t bear to leave in storage. “Besides,” Logan continued, as they closed up her car and started toward the front door, “Gina had most of her stuff all packed up for her, anyway. All stacked up by the front door.”

John turned to frown at Elle over his shoulder. Whatever had loosened in her chest tightened right back up, seeing that his smile was gone. “Can she do that?”

Elle shrugged, her duffel shifting against her shoulder. “She already did, so...”

He stopped to open the door, stepping back to let Logan through. “But isn’t your name on the lease, too?”

“Honestly, as long as I don’t have to live with her anymore, I don’t care.”

“Well, I, for one, am glad you’re here.” Logan’s voice carried from the stairs near the back of the house, where bright golden sunlight filled the room. Elle had been to their home several times over the past few years to hang out with Logan, and it had always felt warm and welcoming. The two men had decorated every available surface with movie and game paraphernalia, pictures of them and their family and friends, and— her particular favorite— colorful string lights. There were even two bookcases along one wall that Elle had browsed time and time again with Logan, looking for music for auditions, or borrowing whatever book he had recommended to her. It could use some colorful curtains, and maybe a few flowers, but overall, it was homey.

Elle followed Logan to the stairs, glancing longingly into the living room. The long, dark leather couch was calling to her after hours of moving boxes. She could go for a nice cup of tea and a book, right now. Or, really, anything that involved not standing anymore. Maybe a movie on their enormous TV— men and their electronics, honestly — would help her settle a bit.

Maybe she’d just lay face down on the guest room floor.

“Right up here, Doll,” Logan said, already halfway up the stairs.

Elle glanced back at John, who gestured for her to lead the way with a nod of his head. She’d never been upstairs before. It felt almost like an invasion, even now, but she forced her nerves down as she followed Logan up.

“I hope you’re ready to cook all the time,” Logan continued merrily. “John’s a beast on the grill, and he does okay with breakfast food, but otherwise, he can’t cook for shit.”

“Hey!”

Elle’s face cracked into a smile at John’s indignant remark behind her. She paused on the landing halfway up and shot a teasing smile over her shoulder. “Noted.”

John rolled his eyes at her. “Come on, Logan, I’m not that bad a cook.”

“You forgot about your pasta and burnt it.”

Elle bit her lip as John reached the landing with her. “I’ve done that, too,” she whispered, once Logan was out of earshot. “Don’t tell him.”

“I don’t think he’d believe you.” John grinned down at her, and…

And suddenly, this whole situation wasn’t so weird. She was still sore, and still had a headache, but… Yeah. Maybe Ben had been right; things would be okay.

Elle paused as she reached the second floor, looking around. It was an empty, open space, with a decent amount of light from two skylights above her head. The walls had some pleasant, classy art, but otherwise, there wasn’t much by way of decoration. There were two doors to her right, one tucked further back behind an angled hallway. The walls to her left were angled slightly as well, each with their own door.

“You have a lovely house,” Elle said, glancing again at John. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

John’s look was puzzled. “Of course. I’m glad you called me.”

Elle blinked, startled. He was…what?

Logan’s voice echoed through the second floor before Elle could work her way through her own thoughts. “Back here, Doll.”

Still a bit dazed from John’s statement, Elle adjusted the bag on her shoulder and followed Logan’s voice through a door in one of the angled walls.

The room—her room, she supposed— was just as pretty as the rest of the house. The bed had maybe half a dozen pillows, sunny yellow and pale peach, propped up against a downy white comforter. There was a nightstand with a lamp that matched the pillows, a big chest of drawers across the room, a vanity with a mirror, and a sparsely filled bookshelf. The ceiling was slanted down at an angle on one side, giving the whole place a lofted feeling.

“Logan decorated,” John said, already moving past her.

“It’s lovely.” The bed looked like the most inviting thing she’d ever seen. She just wanted to lay face down on it, completely immobile, for the next sixteen hours or so, until her muscles loosened up and her head stopped hurting.

“I hope you like sunlight,” Logan said, eyeing the giant, arched window over the bed. “You’ll never have to worry about seasonal depression, here.”

“Speak for yourself.” But she still chuckled, dropping her bags at the foot of the bed.

“You can rearrange whatever you want,” John called from the closet. “Logan and I will help.”

“And redecorate however you want.” Logan took the bags from Elle’s feet and dropped them, instead, right in front of John, just as he made to leave the closet. John rolled his eyes and took them in, while Logan danced over to press a kiss to Elle’s forehead. “I want you to be completely at home, here—”

“It’s perfect,” Elle cut him off, pulling his hands from her face and squeezing them. She wouldn’t be staying long enough to bother, anyway.

“And when you’re ready, we can—” Logan cut off at the sound of a phone buzzing.

Elle’s hand instinctively shot to her left pocket, but her phone was still and solid against her thigh. “It’s not me.”

“It’s me,” John said, finally emerging from her closet, scowling at his buzzing phone in his hand. “I’ll be right back.” With that, he disappeared through the bedroom door with a firm but kind hello, and then he was gone.

Elle felt herself relax, marginally, the moment John’s voice had faded. Strange.

“Right, anyway,” Logan said, steering Elle by the shoulders. “Come look at your closet! It’s nice and roomy.”

He was right. Even with all her stuff in it, there was still plenty of space. All of her garment bags were already hanging from the rail on one wall, and there was a wooden dresser in the back of the room. The room, by itself, was almost as big as her bedroom back at the apartment.

The apartment. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl, and her heart jerk painfully in her chest. The hopefulness that had started to spread through her dissipated like steam in the air.

“Logan, I love you with all my heart,” Elle said, wringing her hands, “but I’ve got to be honest. This is really overwhelming.”

Logan turned back to face her with a frown, a plastic garment bag in his hands, clearly intending to hang its contents for her. “The… closet?”

“What? No.” Elle blinked, and then played the conversation over in her head. Yeah, actually, she could see how he might have gotten to that conclusion. It was the biggest closet she’d ever seen. She shook her head, though, continuing. “No, I meant… Living here. Moving in with you two.” She shrugged, at a loss for how to put it into words— the crippling fear that she was being a burden, the tension from being around John as more than just Logan’s Friend Elle, but as actual roommates. “It’s just… weird, I guess. I feel like I’m…” She ran a hand over the back of her head, the word clogging up her throat. “Intruding.”

Her words caught Logan’s full attention, causing him to re-hang the bag and face her fully. “Elle, no,” He cooed, coming forward to grab her shoulders. He gave her a little shake, craning his neck down to look her in the eye. “You are not intruding. You’re our friend. Ask John, he’ll tell you the same thing. We wouldn’t have offered you a place if we didn’t want you to live here with us.”

I’m glad you called me.

Right , Elle thought, though the tense knot in her chest remained just as tight and uncomfortable. Logan was right. She was being silly. What he was saying made more sense than her ridiculous self-doubt. Elle sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, nodding at him.

He gave her forehead a kiss. “Come on, Doll. Let’s get you unpacked.” He went right back to the garment bag, unzipping it to pull out the clothing that hung inside it. “When you’re a bit more adjusted, we can go back to the storage place and get the rest of your stuff.”

“The… rest?” Elle continued to stand there, her body struggling to catch up with her brain, while Logan continued to unpack her things for her.

“Yeah, your books and pictures and stuff,” Logan said. When Elle didn’t respond, opting instead to get her ass in gear and help unpack things, he nudged her. “Elle?”

She swallowed. “I wasn’t planning on moving in permanently.”

“Elle.” The disapproval in his tone shook her, especially when he turned to cross his arms at her.

“What?” She unzipped the second garment bag, avoiding his gaze, and started pulling dresses from it. “Logan, eventually I’ll need a place of my own. Even if I do adore you.”

“That could take months, Elle,” Logan insisted. “You can’t just leave all your stuff in storage while you wait.”

“Why not?” She didn’t mean to sound so defensive. She couldn’t even look at him, inwardly cringing at the tone of her own voice. “That’s the point of storage.” He still watched her with disapproval on his face; she could see it in her peripherals. Elle sighed, maybe a little more harshly than necessary, but god. This was getting frustrating. “It’s not that big a deal, Logan. With any luck, I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of months, and then—”

“You’re not in our hair, Elle—”

“You can’t expect me to just stay here and be a burden—”

“Oh, come on , Ellie—”

“Don’t ‘Ellie’ me,” Elle snapped, and then froze.

They stared at each other, the silence stretching between them, like a rubber band about to snap. Logan’s face was wide with shock, and Elle felt the guilt start to seep into her core.

This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. Being — being her, being like this. Impossible to live with, too sensitive, overly emotional.

This is why Gina kicked you out, a snide little voice in her head spat. You push everyone away.

This was it. She was barely moved in, and now he was certain to kick her out. Great going, idiot.

Elle took a deep breath, and then swallowed. “I— I’m sorry,” she started, voice shaky. “I didn’t mean—”

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head. “No, I crossed a line.” He laughed, the sound almost humorless. “God, I sounded like your mom. No wonder you snapped at me.”

He may have had a point, but still. Elle rubbed at her face with her hands. Then just left them there.

By some miracle, she didn’t immediately cry when Logan came to wrap his arms around her. It didn’t particularly help when he squeezed her around the middle, one hand sweeping down her back in a comforting motion. The tension in her chest and throat cracked, just a little, around the edges.

As he rocked her a little, she pressed her face into his lean, solid chest, trying to hide the impending tears. “I’m sorry, Doll,” he murmured, still rubbing her back. “What I should have said was, since you’ll probably be here for a while, we should at least get you a few things to make you feel more at home. A few pictures, maybe some of your books?” He pulled back to look down at her, and she propped her chin on his chest, sniffling a little. “We can unpack what you’ve got here, then go grab one or two boxes from storage. How’s that sound?”

She nodded, the movement stiff against his chest. “I don’t want to be a—”

“Burden, I know. You said that already.” She winced and nodded again. “We wouldn’t have invited you to stay if we didn’t expect you to actually live here. That includes eating, sleeping, showering, watching TV, all of it.” He tucked her head back against his chest. “We’re not Gina. You don’t have to be all quiet and invisible here.”

Shit, that stung. But he had a point. She’d been watering herself down around Gina for months, trying not to set her ex-roommate off, tip-toeing around the ever-impending explosion that seemed to happen whenever Gina remembered Elle existed.

“Okay.” When she leaned away, Logan let her go, but not without squeezing her one more time first. “Okay. You’re right. I…” Elle glanced around the mostly barren closet. “I think it would be… nice, to have some books and stuff.”

“Atta girl,” Logan said, patting her arm.

Elle finished the bag she’d been unpacking before she continued. “I want to pay my way, though.”

Logan actually slapped a palm to his face. “Elle.”

“That’s not negotiable,” She insisted, already lowering her suitcase to the ground to open it. “If I’m going to be using water, electricity, wifi, whatever, I want to pay my share. And rent, too.”

“For Pete’s—”

“You guys okay?” John stood at the closet door with a brow arched, looking back and forth between Elle and Logan with concern.

Logan pointed at Elle like a child, and before she could say anything, whined, “Elle’s trying to pay us rent .” Elle rolled her eyes at him and continued putting clothing into the dresser in the back of the closet.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Barely sparing John a glance, she gestured vaguely around her. “If I live here with you, I should pay rent, too!”

“We don’t pay rent.” John stepped over to where Logan was examining the contents of a duffel. “Bathroom?”

“You don’t…?” There was no way, no way, these two were living here for free. That wasn’t possible.

“I own the house, Elle,” John explained flatly when he caught sight of her expression, taking the duffel from Logan.

Elle just stared at him, mouth open.

John straightened up and froze, visibly startled. “What?”

Without thinking, and though it may have been an enormous faux pas, Elle looked him up and down. Was it possible that she’d misjudged his age? He can’t have been that much older than her. They’d been at college together for a couple of years; if she remembered correctly, he wasn’t even thirty yet. “How do you own a house?” Then, realizing she sounded more jaded than shocked, she added, “Why aren’t you starving and poor like the rest of us Millennials?”

John laughed at that. Thank god. “It was my grandparents’ house. I inherited it after my grandad passed.”

“Oh.” Okay, so she wasn’t completely stupid. A true miracle. Still, her hand automatically came up to cover her heart. “That’s… sad. Sweet, but sad.”

“So no rent,” John continued, slinging her bag over his shoulder, “but if you’re dead set on paying your share, we can just split the bills evenly between the three of us.”

“I am, in fact, dead set,” Elle insisted, pushing the last drawer shut. She reached up to take the bag from John. “It’s only fair.”

“I can take—” John started, but his phone cut him off. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “For Chrissakes. These idiots are going to give me an ulcer.”

Elle started to laugh. “Well, that’s just rude.”

“Wh— oh, no, not you.” John waved toward Logan, already turning away. “Could you…?” Logan nodded as John answered the phone. “Yes, Mrs. Henderson?”

“The country club,” Logan explained, while John’s voice faded away out of the room. “He took over running a lot of the events when his grandparents died.”

“Ah.” It was just like John, she thought, to lead the community. Something about him screamed leader. Probably his height.

“Yeah.” Logan huffed, looking around at all the work they had left to do. “Hey, you hungry?”

“Always.” Elle gestured with the bag in her hand. “Let me toss this in the bathroom, and then we can take a break from all this moving. Besides,” She continued, heading to the only closed door left in the room, “I want to put on sweatpants.”

“Fair enough.”

John’s head came around the door frame. “I have to head over to the clubhouse to help Mrs. Henderson set up her dinner party,” he said, sounding resigned. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Have fun,” Logan said, waving him off.

“Bye,” Elle murmured, then turned to Logan. “Should I go back to feed the cat? Gina won’t be home til—”

“Elle, you already turned your keys in,” Logan reminded her, watching her toss the duffel of towels into the bathroom with a dull thud. “And you gave that cat enough food for the next month.”

“I was nervous!” But Logan’s expression brooked no argument. With a sigh, Elle changed the subject. “What do you have in your fridge? Maybe I can pull something together for us.”

“Funny you should ask.”

Several minutes later, after a refreshing change of clothes, Elle stood basking in the middle of the most impressive kitchen she’d ever stepped foot in. It was practically the size of her old apartment, with gleaming wooden floors, glistening granite counter tops, and enough space that she could have cooked four separate meals at once and had space leftover.

“God, I love your kitchen.” Logan started to laugh, watching her reaction from somewhere behind her. “I’m going to live in this room. I don’t even need a bed. I could fit on the counters. That breakfast bar alone could hold all of my belongings.” She shook her head. “What do you even do in a kitchen this big? Roast entire animals on a spit?”

“John and I don’t do much of anything in here,” Logan said. “I burn water, and his skills are limited to TV dinners, pasta— also burnt— with jarred sauce, breakfast food, and anything involving the grill out back.”

“This kitchen is mine now,” Elle declared. She ran a hand over the smooth counter top beside her, eyeing the sparkling steel sink. “If you ever lose me, I’m probably in here, crying tears of joy.”

“Well, you sentimental slob,” Logan said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her toward a door across from the fridge, “then you won’t mind breaking it in tonight. I had a craving while I was at the dentist the other day, so I hope you’re in the mood for lasagna.” As he opened the door for her— revealing what turned out to be a pantry the size of her closet upstairs— he added, “There’s also pineapple cider in the fridge.”

Delighted, both by that and the pantry, Elle grinned up at him. “You remembered.”

“Duh.” Logan watched her raid the pantry for a split second of silence. “I bet you could cook for us instead of paying rent, or whatever.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “Logan.”

“I’m serious! John will be overjoyed when he finds out how well you cook. He’ll probably ask you himself. Hell,” Logan stepped out of her way, wisely not trying to remove ingredients from her loaded arms, “when he finds out you can bake, he might straight up propose.”

As she passed him toward the counter, Elle pinched his arm.

Later, with their drinks on the pretty glass coffee table and plates of food balanced in their laps, Elle shook her head at the painfully fake monster slinking down a flight of stairs after the leading lady. “Please don’t go in the basement,” she said, belatedly, as the woman did exactly that. “Don’t— oh, you absolute idiot. Can’t you hear the ominous music?” Logan burst out laughing beside her, while Elle scrunched up her face in response to the awful fake gore and overdone sound effects. “God. Serves her right.”

“You have no tolerance for the tropes,” Logan teased, poking her in the thigh.

Elle was about to respond that, no, she really didn’t, but the sound of the front door opening cut her off. The realization that John actually lived here struck her, as though somewhere along the lines, she’d managed to set that fact aside in her mind. Anxiety rippled through her, a slight tremor starting up underneath her skin.

“Welcome home,” Logan called.

“Hey.” John strode into the room, immediately frowning at the TV screen. “What... are you two watching?”

“Poorly done CGI with a garbage plot,” Logan answered flatly. “There’s lasagna in the oven.”

“Oh, nice.” Distracted, apparently, by the prospect of food, John strolled into the kitchen, which suddenly seemed much less enormous with him taking up so much of the space. Amazing, Elle reflected— and then realized she was staring. She snapped her attention back to the TV—Ugh, no, horrible fake blood everywhere, abort mission. She picked up her cider, intent on hiding behind it for as long as possible.

“How was being a charitable human being?” Logan asked.

“The usual.” John emerged from the kitchen and dropped into an armchair, his plate piled high with food. “Mostly old people droning about HOA. Jackie was there being—” He hesitated, looking down at his plate. “Well. Jackie.”

Elle frowned. She’d heard that name before. Where had she heard that name before?

She didn’t get a chance before John scowled at the TV. “God, this movie is awful ”

Welp, that moment had passed. “Honestly, I think that’s what they were going for,” Elle decided, setting her cider back down, and trying not to look at John.

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse than just being honestly terrible.” He finally took a bite of his lasagna, and then nodded. “Great lasagna.”

“Thanks,” Elle responded, knee-jerk, “it’s dairy-free.”

“No kidding?” John looked at Logan, waving his fork in Elle’s direction. “Jesus, Logan, you should have asked her to move in years ago. We could have been eating real food all this time.”

It felt a lot like puzzle pieces falling into place, Elle mused, and smiled. “I can bake, too.”

John’s eyes widened. “You can?” Elle nodded. “You wouldn’t want to pay your way with food, would you?”

Logan poked Elle in the thigh as she began to laugh. “I told you so.”