Totally and Completely Fine(41)

He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I called Gabe and he denied that anything had happened on the trip. It was clear both of them were lying.

“Tell me what happened, or I’ll go make myself a sandwich entirely out of cold cuts,” I said to Spencer when I had become well and truly fed up with the weird behavior.

That’s when I found out that the casual drinking Gabe had started in high school, and continued through college, was no longer quite so casual.

“He hides it well,” Spencer told me. “He doesn’t drink when he’s working, but the minute he’s off the clock? It’s like he can’t help himself. One drink and then another and then another.”

He was mad at me for dragging the secret out of him, but I was glad I’d done it. Even if I had no idea what to do.

“Did you talk to him about it?”

Spencer gave me a look.

“I tried,” he said. “But you know how Gabe is.”

I nodded. It was how we all were. Something’s only a problem if you make it one. No doubt, Gabe felt his drinking was fine, and that Spencer was the issue.

“He’s probably stressed,” I said. “He’s been disappointed with the work he’s been getting, so it’s probably a coping mechanism.”

“I don’t like it,” Spencer said. “He’s clearly lonely, constantly going from place to place, traveling to another country for every new role, but he won’t admit that there’s a problem. He keeps saying it’s under control.”

“Maybe it is,” I said. “I mean, you were just there for a week. He probably wanted an excuse to go have fun with you.”

“You didn’t see him, Lauren,” Spencer said. “He doesn’t need an excuse to get plastered.”

I could hear the concern in his voice. I knew he was probably right, but what could we do about it? Gabe was an adult. On his way to maybe becoming a famous actor. We knew nothing about his life and what he had to do to make it through the day.

At least, that’s what Gabe told me when I spoke to him next. I’d never heard him so angry. He actually hung up on me. We didn’t speak again until Lena was born.

Chapter 25

Now

I reinstalled a few dating apps. Allyson took some new pictures, and I set my filters wider—both in age and distance. This was Montana, we were used to traveling to get what we wanted and needed. At least this search presented me with a few decent options.

I even had a date scheduled.

“Tell me everything about him,” Allyson said as we headed into the restaurant for dinner.

Lena was over at my mom’s. I’d asked Gabe because I knew he wanted to spend more time with her, but he already had plans—plans that I hoped did not involve making out with his girlfriend in the corner of my shop.

At least the overall lovefest in Cooper had calmed down a bit. I’d only had to chase one other couple out of the stacks that week.

I still needed to move those bookshelves, though.

“His name is Carl,” I told Allyson, but had to stop as our waitress approached. “Hey, Annie.”

She was a member of one of our book clubs—a regular at the shop.

“Hey, Mrs. P,” she said. “Have you heard anything about when the new Miranda Eddy book is coming out?”

“I’m not supposed to say anything,” I said, “but they should be arriving at the store this weekend. But you know we can’t put them on the shelves until release day.”

Her excitement deflated quickly.

“Of course, if you want to come and help me unbox them, I can’t really keep you from reading a few pages while you’re at it,” I said.

“Really?” she asked.

I tapped my nose. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

She grinned and took our orders. As she left, the hostess walked a pair of familiar faces past our table.

“Hey, Monica,” I said as they stopped to say hello. “Jerry. How’s Pickles?”

Pickles was their cat.

“A handful,” Monica said. “She disappears for weeks on end and Jerry here is convinced she’s gone to the great cat tree in the sky.”

“Then she shows up yesterday morning meowing for food like she’s always been there,” Jerry said. “Like we hadn’t been worried sick.”

“You know cats,” I said.

“I do indeed,” Monica said.

They headed to their table.

“I could go weeks in San Francisco without running into a single person I knew,” Allyson said. “And I lived there my entire adult life.”

“How does this still surprise you?” I asked. “This is small-town life in a nutshell—everyone knows you and your business.”

“Seriously,” Allyson said.

Wherever I went, I knew someone, and they knew me. Knew about my dead husband and my famous brother. Just the way I knew about Russell Conway’s DUIs and the time that Marissa Hamlin won a lifetime supply of ranch dressing from a contest back in ’94—it had been big news at the time. We were all too involved in one another’s business.

My mom had once said that hot gossip was cheaper than firewood.

It was currency. Connection.

In Philadelphia, I’d been no one. Not a single person there had known about the time I’d upended an entire display of canned green beans while I was stacking them for the Thanksgiving rush. No one knew about the dress I’d worn to graduation—some thrift store find that I’d washed, shrunk to a nearly indecent size, and worn anyway. And there were no whispers about how sad my life was. How lonely I must be. How alone.