Totally and Completely Fine(54)

“It doesn’t help that he’s such a functional drunk,” I said.

I’d finally seen it firsthand. The daily act of it—how he drank from the time he got up until the time he went to bed. And it wasn’t like he was a mean drunk. He didn’t yell, didn’t throw things, didn’t even really get in trouble.

When he drank, he kind of just disappeared into himself. His eyes were flat, his mouth loose in a grin that he couldn’t seem to control, and he bumped into things a lot. Most people would have considered him pleasant to be around. People who didn’t know him. Or people who didn’t care.

I had a feeling that described most of who he knew in Los Angeles.

None of us felt good about him going back to that.

Maybe I didn’t want to trade places with him.

“I think it’s pretty common over there for people to drink that way,” Spencer said. “Maybe he should have stayed here.”

“He would have gone insane,” I said. “Working at the hardware store? What kind of life is that?”

I hadn’t realized what I’d said until Spencer’s silence had me looking up from Lena, whose hair I had been brushing.

He was staring at the floor looking sadder than I’d seen him in a long time.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” he said. “At least I’m the manager, right?”

“You’re a great manager,” I said.

Which was true. Everyone loved Spencer. He was even-tempered and fair and kind. His employees adored him, his bosses trusted him.

He took Lena’s hand, her small fingers curling around his calloused one.

“I never should have dropped out of school,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

I hadn’t realized he still thought about it.

Hadn’t realized he regretted it.

Because he’d never said anything. Never complained. Never wished for anything besides the house.

I didn’t know how to respond because I largely blamed his mother for his short-lived college career, but I knew better than to bring her up now. That was one thing about Spencer and his overwhelming kindness—he never considered that someone wouldn’t have his best interests at heart. Especially his mother.

“Maybe when Lena’s a little older, I’ll go back to work—and I’ll get a better job—and you can go back to school,” I said. “Or maybe take some evening classes. Or online ones.”

“Sure,” Spencer said, but we both knew how unlikely that was.

The house was wonderful, and I loved it, but it was a lot of money—all these hidden costs we hadn’t planned on. It had been more than we expected.

“When we win the lottery,” he said.

“Maybe Gabe will make it big, and all our problems will go away,” I joked.

Spencer smiled at that. “Sounds like a foolproof plan. What could go wrong?”

Chapter 31

Now

I knew the date was a bad idea almost as soon as I got out of the car.

Carl was waiting outside for me, and I had one brief moment of relief when it was clear that the photo on the site was accurate. However, the problems started when I tried to open the door for him.

I’d been slightly ahead of him, so I reached for the handle, only to have him reach past me and yank it out of my hand.

“Allow me,” he said.

It made for an awkward sort of do-si-do as I tried to move under his arm to get through the door.

“I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy,” he said as we waited for the hostess. “My mama raised me to have good manners.”

I nodded, but refusing to let someone else hold the door for you—especially if it was your date and she was currently already doing that—seemed less like an old-fashioned thing and more like a chest-beating, pissing contest thing.

We were less than five minutes into the date, and I was already exhausted.

I’d told my family that I was going to meet a friend. No one asked any follow-up questions, which I supposed I should have been offended about but was for the best.

I hadn’t seen Ben since the incident at the bookstore. He’d kept his word and kept out of my way. I should have been relieved. Instead, I felt hurt.

I wanted to see him.

I didn’t know what I wanted.

I did know that I didn’t want to be thinking about one man while on a date with another. No matter how unequally matched the two were.

At least the restaurant was nice.

“We’ll have a bottle of the house red,” Carl said when the waitress arrived.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m not drinking tonight.”

Carl frowned. “Come on,” he said. “It’s a Friday night, don’t you want to loosen up a little?”

“I have a long drive home,” I said. “And I don’t like red wine.”

My date flushed, and the waitress bit her lip as if she was holding back a smile.

“Just iced tea for me,” I said.

“Do you still want the bottle?” the waitress asked.

Carl glared at her.

“That was embarrassing,” he said the moment she walked away.

I shrugged, continuing to peruse the menu.

“Is the steak good here?” I asked.