If It Makes You Happy(81)

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“He looks at you weird sometimes.”

“He’s a weird guy,” I joke, and I instantly feel bad about the insult. It’s one thing to call Cliff weird to his face; it’s another to do it when he’s not around.

“Hmm …” She clicks her tongue in thought. “Then I don’t know … do you think you could set me up with him?”

It’s like my heart stops, starts again, then takes an Olympic leap into my throat. I keep emptying wine from the bottle into her glass, but my fist is tightened around the neck of the bottle. I swear I can hear my blood pressure in my ears.

“Aren’t you a bit young for him?” I ask.

She snorts again, though I’m not sure if it’s from derision or too much wine. “No way. I’ve dated older.”

“You have?” I ask with wide eyes.

She grins, placing her index finger in front of her plush lips with a “Shh.”

“How old?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Forties.”

“Sara!”

She giggles. “Don’t tell Dad.”

“That could basically be one of Dad’s friends.”

“Whatever,” Sara says, pushing my arm. “Anyway, Cliff’s into blondes, right?”

“Is he?”

“You’re the one who said that.” She laughs. “Oh my God, Shells, are you trying to get me drunk?”

I notice I’ve filled her wineglass nearly to the rim.

“Sorry.” I got distracted. “Anyway, when did I say he was into blondes?”

I slowly hand her the glass, and the wine sloshes dangerously close to the lip.

“Oh, Cliff! Right. Yeah, over the phone. You said we’d get along and that blondes are his thing, and thank God because he’s so cute.”

I did say that, didn’t I? But that was before Halloween. That was before … well, nothing, I guess. According to both me and Cliff, nothing happened or would happen again. And that’s a good thing. That’s how it should be.

“So, think you could talk to him for me?” Sara asks. “Please, please, please?”

Sara and Cliff. Cliff and Sara. My sister and my charming neighbor. My best friend and my sister.

Sara narrows her eyes. “Unless … you are into him,” she says, setting down her glass and holding up both hands. “I’m not gonna step on your toes.”

I realize too late that my brow is furrowed.

“No,” I say quickly, blowing out air and shaking my head as I pour myself wine. “God, no. No, it’s Cliff. He’s … no.”

She squints more. “You two seem close.”

I set the wine bottle on the counter with a definitive plunk. “I’m honestly closer with his daughters,” I lie.

“Hmm. Well … think you could …” Her words fade off as she playfully chews her bottom lip and knocks the toe of her shoe against mine.

I should hook them up. It makes sense. I’m not going to date Cliff, so why would I steal potential happiness from both of them? After all, Sara will be his neighbor after the New Year, and I won’t. If it works out, then my two favorite people will be happy.

She’s sunshine. Cliff deserves sunshine after all he’s been through.

I squeak the cork back into the bottle. “If you really like him, I’ll talk to him for you.”

She gasps, hopping toward me. “Really?”

“Sure.”

Sara grabs my hands between her palms. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

I force a smile and push her toward the dining room. She grabs her glass and slyly snatches the entire bottle of wine before disappearing through the swinging door.

The moment she leaves the kitchen, I slump against the counter. From the floor, I hear a low woof. I lean my head on my own shoulder to glare at Rocket.

“Yes?” I ask.

He blinks slowly, darting his eyes to the door, then back. Do you really want her with Funny Guy?

“He’s not that funny,” I grumble.

I’ve laughed once or twice.

“Oh, what do you know about humor?” I scoff, sipping my own wine and pushing through the door and back to the dining room.





CHAPTER 25





Michelle




By the time I slink over to Cliff’s house, it’s nearly ten o’clock.

I tucked my very drunk sister into my bed. Dad stared at the nightly news until finally shuffling up to the free guest room. I cleaned the dishes, staring down at the soapsuds popping and fizzing while my mind whirled. I tried to look over the budget, but I couldn’t focus. No faxes have come in from work either. I feel in the dark about too many things.

After turning off all the lights, I slipped on my house shoes, grabbed Rocket’s leash, and traipsed through the bushes between my house and Cliff’s. The rosebushes are where he finds me.

“Michelle?” Cliff asks with that familiar laugh.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Are you awake?”

He crunches through the brush until he grabs the crook of my elbow and tugs me out.

“Clearly,” he answers. “What are you doing?”