Then he stormed off my porch, boots stomping all the way over to his house. I looked over, smile growing wider than ever, before he stepped inside and slammed the door.
He may be the best neighbor I’ve ever had. This was just too much fun.
But that’s all he was. A neighbor. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a neighbor.
Eight
My night started off in a really shitty place. First, I got a postcard from my mom in the mail. Whatever. That was all fine and dandy. She was in France with José, who “says hi.” I was glad she was living her life to the fullest, even if it weirded me out that José was a fraction of her age.
But then I received three missed calls from my father. I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why he continued to call me. We hadn’t spoken since Alexander’s funeral. Not once, yet he called me almost every single week like clockwork. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to hear about Alexandria and Danielle. Sure, they were my half-sisters, and when they were older, I’d make an effort to be in their lives, but my dad had taken it too far with their names.
They were born three days after Alexander’s funeral.
Three days.
And my father thought it was a good idea to honor Alexander’s life by naming his twin daughters, whom he conceived with someone else while still married to my mother, Alexandria and Danielle. Alexander Daniel…Alexandria Danielle. Low blow, Daddy-O. Low, fucking blow.
So, we hadn’t talked since I’d seen the announcement on his social media account. I had ignored every single call and every single text. I talked to his wife once, to congratulate her on the twins, but that was it.
Right after I’d thrown my phone on the counter and busied myself with the dirty dishes piled up high in my sink, was about the time my night took an even more awful turn. Luke and I hadn’t really spoken much since I’d thrown out all his towels and stuff, but I knew a prank was coming. He wouldn’t let me get away with my little trick. I sure hoped not, anyway. We ran in silence in the mornings, while I ogled his behind, and that was about all the contact we’d had.
But when I was doing my dishes, I just so happened to look up out the window above my sink, which was lined up perfectly with Luke’s window. I had never seen him in it before; I honestly wasn’t even sure he knew how to do dishes. I pictured him only eating on paper plates and bowls so he wouldn’t have to do them. Because, seriously, I had never seen him standing at his kitchen sink, ever.
Until tonight. Already heated up about my father, scrubbing the same damn dish over and over again to work out my frustrations, I spotted him. Luke was standing in front of his tiny, square, kitchen window, with the lights down low, shirt off and displaying those lick-worthy pectorals, gulping down water so fast that I could see his throat moving with each swallow.
My scrubbing went from full-on scraping the porcelain off the dish to barely moving my hand. I was frozen, mouth gaping, while I stared at him. Then my hands gripped the sponge so hard, I thought it would rip in half. He placed his cup in the sink, turning his body slightly, when a pretty woman wrapped her hands around his neck. My mouth opened even further, and I felt as if I were watching something I shouldn’t…but it was so hard not to. I couldn’t take my eyes off what was unfolding like a fucking Hallmark birthday card.
He wrapped his hands somewhere down below the kitchen window, no doubt on the pretty woman’s behind, and kissed her fiercely. I swore I could see his tongue jolt out and lick her lip. Jealousy tore through my body like the aftershock of an earthquake. My eyes stayed trained on the window as I felt the heat pool down below my belly. It was a strange feeling. Half-jealous and half-yearning. It scared me how badly I wanted to be that woman. It scared me how badly I was turned on. It scared me even more when he turned his head towards the window.
My eyes flew out of my head, but I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. My gaze was trained on his, never wavering for even a second. My chest heaved up and down, full of rage and lust, and then…
He winked.
He winked at me, because he knew I was watching. He put that little show on for me. My mouth closed and then parted slightly as my eyes narrowed in his direction. He didn’t take his eyes off me when he pulled her closer to his torso. She had no idea that his real attention was on me. She had no idea. When he smiled at me, from the corner of his mouth, my entire body erupted in flames. He smiled even wider before he dropped himself and the girl to the ground, out of my view, no doubt to fuck her on that kitchen floor.
I was half-tempted to grab my vibrator and do the same thing on my kitchen floor, but my phone went off, bringing me back reality. I was being called in to work, and I couldn’t have been more glad.
I would have done anything to get my mind off Luke and his half-naked self on that kitchen floor. And my wish came true. My mind completely left Luke as my night progressed. It ended with me crouched down behind the nurses’ station, wiping hot tears from my face and taking deep breaths.
I felt Becky’s hand on my shoulder. She squeezed it tightly at the same time that I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the world.
“Remember what they taught you in school, Cammie. Act first, cry later. This isn’t later. Cry in your car after your shift. Come on.”
Becky’s voice was stern but comforting. I took a deep breath and held it so long I started to see spots. I let it out slowly, as I rose from the cold, tiled floor. I shook my body out of my pathetic trance and carried on.
It wasn’t foreign or uncommon to lose a patient, especially in the ICU. But tonight, it hit me hard, and the sad thing was, I wasn’t even crying for the actual patient. When she took her last breath, I wasn’t watching her face. I was watching her husband’s face. They had been married for fifty years, and she died. Just like that. She died, leaving him here to fend for himself. His wrinkled, tired face was distraught. He looked completely brokenhearted, and so incredibly sad. I literally watched the light from his eyes dim, the second she was gone.
I was sure I looked the same after Alexander died. Which was exactly why it hit me so hard. That wound wasn’t healed. It was just stitched up, with fine little sutures, barely holding together, and now it was ripped open wide. Blood seeping out into every little crevice of my life.
Even as I sat in my car, hours after the death, I was still trying to close the gaping hole in my ch
est. It wouldn’t close, but I had to act like it did. I was taking the saying, “Fake it ’til you make it” to an entirely different level. It should be my life motto. Hell, maybe I’d even get it tattooed on my body somewhere, considering it applies to more than one aspect of my life.
The tapping on my car window scared me out of my thoughts. I hastily glanced up and my eyes found a green t-shirt, pulled tightly over a firm-looking chest. I took a deep breath, letting the small amount of air in my Mustang to fill my lungs completely. I wasn’t really in the mood for Luke today. He’d want to be annoying, egotistical, and snarky when I got out of the car, and I just didn’t have the energy after that shift. I was tired. I was tired of everything.
But I opened my door anyway, because I couldn’t live in my car forever, and his tapping was getting progressively worse.
“Stop tapping my window.”