So now, I’m packing up some belongings from one hotel room just to fly halfway across the country to stay in another one. The difference is, I’ll return to this one.Yesterday, I let Mrs. Kovak, the inn’s proprietor, know that I wanted to extend my stay by a month. It’s the off-season, so she was happy for the steady income.
And when I texted Elaine that I planned to stick around for several more weeks, minus the occasional work travel, she was ecstatic. She said she hoped she could convince me to stay close by long term, or at least to visit more.
I screenshotted her an image of the confirmation that my boat had been moved and docked to a local pier as confirmation that I’d be around a lot more.
She sent back that GIF of the girls fromFriendsjumping up and down and screaming.
She said her baby would be so lucky to have Uncle Ev around and that she couldn’t wait for me to take him or her out on the water.
Uncle Ev.
Damn. I never thought that would be a title I’d get to go by, but I’m thrilled.
I don’t want kids of my own, never have, but I can’t wait to be an uncle, and it feels good to know my sister is excited to have me here.
I think Molly is the only person who’s not thrilled I’m sticking around. But I’ll change her mind. I have no doubt of that.
Yea, things were a little rocky earlier today when we went to check out a potential wedding venue. My girl was a bit prickly, but that’s likely due to the fact that I kept inquiring about their honeymoon suite and wedding night accommodations.
It’s just too much fun to piss her off.
And that’s new for me.
Not the pissing people off part. No, I’m pretty sure I do that on the regular. It comes naturally to me.
But the fun part? That’s new.
I’ve never been a fun guy.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a total asshole. I know how to have fun.
I just don’t do it all that often.
I’m not the guy who jokes around with a beautiful woman. I’m not the guy who spends ten minutes crafting a text. I’m not the guy who looks forward to seeing a woman, even if it’s just to mess with her a bit and grab a quick lunch.
Well, I never used to be.
Molly Randall has turned my world upside down, and yet, she refuses to acknowledge that or do anything about it. See? This is part of my frustration.
And I’m not even talking about sex, though, God Almighty, that night with her in December is etched in my brain as the best sexual experience of my life.
So, sure, I’d definitely like to pursue the physical aspect of our relationship. But I’d also love to have the freedom to spend time with her because we enjoy each other’s company. Right now, all of our social interaction—digital and personal—is related to another couple’s wedding.
And that bothers me more than it should.
After all, Molly has made it clear that she’s not interested in a relationship, just a friendship. And I fully respect that.
But are we really friends?
This past week, since promising Simon and Elaine that we’d act as their wedding planners, all of my dealings with Molly have revolved around the wedding. And maybe it’s left over bitterness from my divorce...okay, there’s no maybe about it. I hate the feeling that I’m only good for one thing. With Victoria, that was a hefty paycheck and lavish lifestyle, with the added bonus of frequent absences.
With Molly, it’s this wedding. And I don’t want to be one-dimensional to her. I don’t know much, but I’m sure of that.
If I’m even thinking of comparing Molly, who’s all spice and sass, to my ex-wife, who’s all ice and apathy, I clearly need help.
Or maybe I just need a drink. The buzzing of my phone tells me I’ve got twenty minutes until the car arrives to take me to the airport. I pour two fingers of Scotch and sip, taking in the suitcase that lays before me on the bed. I run its contents against my mental list, toss in the half-full bottle of Glenlivet, wrapping it securely in a sweater and some workout clothes, and consider myself fully packed.
Ev’s been gone all of sixteen hours, and I miss him, which is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.
