Neighbor Dearest E-Book

Penelope Ward

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 405

Beschreibung

The New York Times bestseller.

A standalone novel that does NOT need to be read in conjunction with any other book.

From New York Times bestselling author, Penelope Ward, comes a friends-to-lovers story with sexy new characters.

After getting dumped, the last thing I needed was to move next door to someone who reminded me of my ex-boyfriend, Elec.

Damien was a hotter version of my ex.

The neighbor I’d dubbed “Angry Artist” also had two massive dogs that kept me up with their barking.

He wanted nothing to do with me. Or so I thought until one night I heard laughter coming through an apparent hole in my bedroom wall.

Damien had been listening to all of my phone sessions with my therapist.

The sexy artist next door now knew all of my deepest secrets and insecurities.

We got to talking.

He set me straight with tips to get over my breakup.

He became a good friend, but Damien made it clear that he couldn’t be anything more.

Problem was, I was falling hard for him anyway. And as much as he pushed me away, I knew he felt the same…because his heartbeat didn’t lie.

I thought my heart had been broken by Elec, but it was alive and beating harder than ever for Damien.

I just hoped he wouldn’t shatter it for good.

Leseprobe

First Edition, August 2016

Copyright © 2016 by

Penelope Ward

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Model: James Joseph Pulido, Instagram: @jamesjoseph__

Cover Photographer: Cory Stierley, Instagram: @corystierley

Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

Proofreading & Interior Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Want More?

Acknowledgements

Other Books by Penelope Ward

About the Author

When his car pulled up outside of our apartment, my stomach sank. I just knew. The past several weeks had felt like a storm was slowly brewing. Don’t ask me how, but for some reason, my heart sensed tonight was the night it was going to get shattered into a million pieces.

It had been slowly breaking anyway.

Elec hadn’t been the same since returning from his father’s funeral in Boston several weeks ago. Something changed him. He’d made every excuse in the book not to sleep with me. That’s right. My boyfriend—love of my life—with the voracious sexual appetite suddenly just stopped wanting me. It was like a switch had gone off inside of him. That was my first clue, but there were several other signs that the guy I’d thought was my soulmate had somehow fallen out of love with me.

Since returning, he’d spend his nights writing like a maniac instead of coming to bed—anything to avoid me. His kisses, which used to be filled with passion, were now merely tender, sometimes chaste.

While I knew what was happening, I hadn’t a clue how or why it had happened. I’d believed he loved me. I’d felt it for so long. It was genuine. So, how could things just change so fast?

The door slowly creaked open. My body stiffened as I sat up on the edge of the bed bracing for the worst.

Elec took off his glasses, placing them on the desk. He then slowly and nervously slipped his hands into his pockets. I doubted I’d ever feel those hands caress my body again. His eyes were red. Had he been crying in the car? Then came the words that started the unraveling of any trust I’d had in my own judgment.

“Chelsea, please just know I tried everything I could not to hurt you.”

The rest was all jumbled, masked by the enormity of the pain and sadness building in my chest and numbing my brain.

I didn’t know how I was going to ever recover from this hurt, how I was ever going to trust in love again. Because I truly believed he loved me. I believed love was indestructible.

I was wrong.

SUPERSONIC HEARING

My little sister is such a drama queen. Literally. Jade is an actress on Broadway.

She clapped her hands together, applauding the students who’d just bravely put themselves out there to try out for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. “You all did such a great job today! Tomorrow we cast the roles and start our first rehearsal. This is gonna be epic!”

Jade had come out to the Bay Area to visit our family for the week and offered to volunteer at the youth center where I worked. Since there wasn’t enough time to produce an entire play, Jade decided to direct the kids in one key scene from the musical that would be performed later in the week.

I loved my job as director of the arts at the Mission Youth Center. It was just about the only thing going right in my life. The only downside was the fact that these walls were haunted by memories of my ex, Elec, who used to be a youth counselor here. That was how we met. He’d loved his job, too, until he quit so that he could move to New York after we broke up. He moved to be with her. I shook my head to shoo away thoughts of him and Greta.

Jade grabbed her purse. “I need to go back to your place to use the bathroom and have a quick bite.”

I’d just moved into a new apartment that was only a few blocks away from my job. The lease had finally run out on the place I’d been renting with Elec across town. Even though my ex sent me his half of the rent for the remainder of our lease after he’d moved out, I couldn’t wait to vacate that place; every corner of it reminded me of him and of the miserable months that followed our break up.

My place was right in the south central section of the Mission District. I loved the culture in my new neighborhood. Produce bins and a variety of cafes lined the streets. It was also a mecca for Latin culture, which was great, except for the fact that it reminded me of Elec, who was half Ecuadorian. Little reminders of the guy who broke my heart were everywhere.

Jade and I strolled down the sidewalk, stopping at a fruit stand so that she could buy some papayas for an afternoon smoothie she planned to make back at my apartment. We also ended up getting two coffees to go.

I bent back the opening on my coffee lid as we walked. “So, little sis, I never thought we would be in the same predicament at the same time.”

Jade had recently been dumped by her musician boyfriend.

“Yes. But the difference is, I feel like I have way more distractions in my life than you do. It’s not that I don’t think about Justin. It’s not that I don’t get sad, but my performances keep me so busy that it’s almost like I don’t have time to wallow in it, you know?”

“I told you I’ve been doing these phone therapy sessions, right?”

Jade took a sip then shook her head. “No.”

“Yeah. I found this psychologist who specializes in trauma from failed relationships, but she’s in Canada. Anyway, we do phone sessions one night a week.”

“Is it helping?”

“It always helps to talk things out.”

“Yeah. But no offense, you don’t seem any better for it. Anyway, you can talk things out with Claire or me. You don’t need to pay big bucks to talk to a stranger.”

“Nighttime is really my only time to talk to anyone. You’re performing at night, and Claire is too wrapped up in being a blissful newlywed. Besides, she’s never had her heart broken. She listens, but she doesn’t get it.”

Our older sister, Claire, married her high school sweetheart. Even though the three of us were close growing up in nearby Sausalito, I’d always felt more comfortable opening up to Jade.

When we arrived at my building, my sister stopped to sit on one of the benches in the corner of the fenced-in courtyard. “Let’s sit for a bit, finish our coffees.” Her gaze wandered across the grass to my shirtless neighbor. “Okay…who’s the hottie in the beanie defacing the property?”

“What is it with you and beanies?”

“Justin used to wear one. That’s why I love them. Isn’t that sad?”

“That is sad.”

“This from the girl who still sleeps in her ex’s shirt.”

“It’s comfortable. It has nothing to do with Elec,” I lied. It was the one thing I allowed myself from him. It made me sad, but I wore it anyway.

“So…who is that guy?”

I didn’t know my neighbor’s name, but I’d see him once in a while doing spray paint art along the wrap-around concrete wall that surrounded the property. It served as a vast canvas. His spray painting was true art, definitely not what would be considered simple graffiti. It was an elaborate mix of celestial and geographical images. This guy just kept adding different artwork to the wall gradually. It was a work in progress. I could only assume he planned to paint the entire circumference of the property, as much as the wall space would allow.

“He lives in the building, next door to me, actually.”

“What is he doing? They allow him to do that here?”

“I don’t know. The first time I saw him out here, I thought he was vandalizing the property. But no one seems to care or stop him. Every day, he adds to the mural. It’s actually quite beautiful. But it doesn’t match his personality.”

Jade blew on her coffee. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not very nice.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“No. He’s just not friendly. I’ve tried to make eye contact, but he walks right by me. He has these two big dogs, and they’re pretty mean. They bark all of the time. He walks them every morning.”

“Maybe he’s like a savant. You know, really good with art. Or maybe he’s a genius but with limited social skills. What do they call that…Asperger’s?”

“No. He communicates just fine. I’ve seen him yelling at a few people. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have that. This guy is just not friendly. He doesn’t have Asperger’s. He’s just an ass.”

Jade chuckled. “I think you should totally stop by his place with some warm muffins wrapped up in a basket. It’s the neighborly thing to do. Maybe he’ll loosen up…or loosen you up.”

“Muffins, huh? What’s that code for?”

“Muff…muffins. Same thing. If I lived here, I’d be all over that. But I don’t live here. You do. And you totally need a distraction. I say…he’s it.”

I admired the guy’s broad shoulders and tanned muscular back as his arm moved the spray can up and down. “God, doesn’t he remind you of Elec, though? Arm tattoo…dark hair. Artistic. Basically, that’s the last type of guy I’m going for at this point.”

“So, if someone looks like or seems similar to Elec, then they’re automatically disqualified? They’re destined to do the same thing Elec did? Is that how you think? That’s just stupid rationale.”

“Maybe that’s fucked-up. But the last thing I want is to be with someone who reminds me of him in the least.”

“Well, that’s a shame, because Elec was freaking hot, and this guy…is even hotter.”

“Can you remind me why we’re discussing this? The dude doesn’t even say hello to me. He’s not signing up to be on this delusional version of The Bachelorette. He’s not interested.”

Neighbor Dearest suddenly wiped the sweat from his forehead, took off the mask covering his nose and mouth, and dumped the spray cans into a black drawstring sack. He slung it over his shoulder and just when I thought he was going to walk away and out of the courtyard, he began to walk in our direction. Jade straightened in her seat, and I hated that my pulse raced a bit.

His eyes were focused on me. I wouldn’t call it an angry stare, but he wasn’t smiling. The sunlight beamed directly into his blue eyes, which glowed and really stood out against his tan skin. Jade was right; this guy was truly gorgeous.

“Blueberry are my favorite,” he said.

“What?”

“Muffins.”

“Oh.”

Jade snorted but stayed silent, letting me take the brunt of this humiliation.

“And I’m not anti-social or a savant. I’m just a good old-fashioned prick…with supersonic hearing.”

He smirked and walked away before I could say anything.

When he was safely out of earshot—for real this time—Jade sighed. “Angry guys are the best in bed.”

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you? Haven’t you done enough damage? I’ve always told you that you’re loud when you think you’re whispering. Now there’s proof…at my expense.”

“You’ll be thanking me later when you’re screaming out in orgasm as the angry artist is Van Goh-ing down on you.”

“You’re crazy.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“It is.”

BARKING ORGASM

A week later, and Jade was gone back to New York. I already missed her like crazy. The only reason I hadn’t gone to visit her was that Elec lived there now with Greta. While it was extremely unlikely that I’d run into him, I wasn’t ready to visit their territory just yet.

Angry Artist and I had not crossed paths since the incident when Jade was visiting. Even though I hadn’t seen him around, his dogs woke me up almost every morning barking their heads off. Since I worked the afternoon program at the youth center, my mornings were free. I often had trouble sleeping at night and needed the mornings to catch up on some shut-eye.

It was seriously to the point where I couldn’t handle the barking anymore. If one dog wasn’t barking, the other one was. Most of the time, it was a chorus of yelping in unison. I didn’t care how intimidatingly good-looking he was; I needed to address it with my neighbor.

Tuesday morning, I pulled myself out of bed and threw on some sweats. I dabbed on a little bit of under eye concealer before walking over to his door and knocking.

He opened, wearing a fitted white t-shirt. His hair was disheveled from sleep. “Can I help you?”

“I need to talk to you about your dogs.”

“What? No basket of muffins?”

“No. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have the energy to bake, given that I can’t sleep because of your animals’ incessant barking.”

“There’s nothing I can do about the barking. I’ve tried everything. They won’t shut up.”

“What are the rest of us supposed to do in the meantime?”

“I don’t know. Get some earplugs?”

“Seriously. There must be something you can do.”

“Aside from putting a muzzle on them—which I won’t do—no, there isn’t. Anyway, do you hear them barking now?”

For some reason, they’d stopped.

“No. But it’s rare that they’re ever quiet like this in the morning, and you know it.”

“Look, if you want to complain to the landlord, go right ahead. I can’t stop you. But there’s nothing I can do to keep them from barking that I haven’t already tried. They have minds of their own.”

“Well, then that’s what I’ll have to do. Thank you for making me resort to that. Thanks for nothing.” I walked away and heard his door slam behind me soon after.

Almost the second I returned to my apartment, the barking started up again.

Lying back in my bed, I knew there was only one thing I could possibly do that would help me relax enough to sleep amidst the barking. Despite not wanting to resort to it, I grabbed my Bose noise-reducing headphones and placed them on my ears to block out some of the sound. Even though there wasn’t any music playing, they did help. But I slept on my side. They were only a solution if I was lying on my back. The only time I ever lay in that horizontal position was when I masturbated. And why was I suddenly thinking about the angry artist? Sadly, the thought of touching myself immediately brought on unwanted images of him. I didn’t want to think of him that way. He was a jerk; he didn’t deserve to be the object of my lust. But he’d smelled so fucking good, like spice and musk and man. We don’t have control over what we fantasize about. The fact that he was mean and unattainable made him that much more likely to be an object of my forbidden thoughts. Just like I learned in psychology class back in college, thought suppression often leads to obsession. If you tell yourself not to think about something, then you’ll think about it even more.

Slipping my hands down my pants, I began to massage my clit. God, I didn’t even know his name. This was sick, but at the moment it didn’t matter. I imagined him over me, pushing into me, fucking me angrily. All the while, the hint of barking was still in the background as I rocked back and forth, bringing myself to one of the most earth-shattering climaxes I’d ever experienced.

I collapsed back and managed to fall asleep for an hour.

The mid-morning sun streamed through the window. Blinking my groggy eyes open, I noticed the barking had stopped. The animals must have been out for a walk.

I had a couple of hours before I was due to report to work, so I decided to look up the phone number for the building owner. There was a management office in the building, but the woman who worked there was pretty lax. Suspecting she wouldn’t take my barking complaint seriously, I figured I’d go straight to the top. I’d only ever dealt with the woman in the rental office and had never spoken to the landlord.

An internet search pulled up the name D.H. Hennessey, LLC. There was a phone number to contact them, but it opened to a general voice mailbox with an automated greeting. I wanted to talk to someone in person, so I hung up without leaving a message. I noticed that the address listed was on the first floor of this building. Deciding to head down there, I slipped on a dress and some shoes and brushed my hair.

Knocking on the door, I took a deep breath then waited. When the door opened, the sight of him nearly made me fall over.

Angry Artist was standing there, shirtless and wearing that damn beanie again. My heart was pounding. Sweat was pouring down his chiseled chest, and I swore my mouth actually watered.

“Can I help you?” It was the same thing he’d asked me when he opened his apartment door. This felt like déjà vu, an episode of The Twilight Zone or a bad dream where no matter which door I opened, he would be there.

“What are you doing here?”

“This is my place.”

“No. Your apartment is next door to mine.”

“That’s right. That’s my apartment. This is my place. My art studio and gym.”

“This was the address listed for the landlord.”

A wry smile spread across his face. Suddenly, I felt like the stupidest person in the world as it dawned on me: he was the landlord. That was why the prick had encouraged me to issue a formal complaint.

“You’re D.H. Hennessey…”

“Yes. And you’re Chelsea Jameson. Excellent credit, great references…chronic complainer.”

“Well, this explains a lot…how you’re able to get away with defacing the property and being an overall asshole to your neighbors.”

“I would hardly compare my creating art to defacing property. Have you not looked around this entire neighborhood? It’s an art mecca. Mine is far from the only mural. And you’re overreacting about the dogs. So, the real asshole in this situation? Debatable.”

Behind him, I could see multiple canvases of spray-painted artwork as well as a weight bench and other workout equipment.

“Where are the dogs now?”

“They’re napping.”

“Dogs nap?”

“Yes. They nap. They’re catching up on sleep because your bitching kept them up this morning.” He cracked a smile. That made me realize just how much this exchange was actually amusing him.

“Clearly the D stands for dick?”

He didn’t immediately respond, and a little staring contest ensued before he said, “The D stands for Damien.”

Damien.

Of course he had to have a hot name, too.

“Damien…like from that movie The Omen? Fitting.” I looked around. “Why do you list this space as your address for tenants?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want crazy people who compare me to the anti-Christ showing up at my residence at all hours.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This was a lost cause. “Alright, well, clearly this visit was in vain, so enjoy your workout.”

That afternoon, members of the San Francisco Symphony paid a visit to the youth center. They put on a small performance just for us. Watching the smiles on the kids’ faces as they toyed around with the fancy instruments served as yet another reminder of how much I loved my job.

While everyone was focused on our guests, I noticed one of the teens, Ariel Sandoval, hiding crouched down in a corner with her phone. Wireless devices were against center rules, since this was supposed to be a place for learning. The teenagers with phones had to leave them in a bin at the front desk and retrieve them on the way out.

“Ariel, is everything alright? You should really be engaging with everyone else.”

She shook her head no. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to have my phone. But I need it. And no, I’m not okay.”

I sat down on the ground next to her. The floor was cold against my butt. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kai. I’m stalking Facebook now to see if anyone’s tagged him.”

Her boyfriend, Kai, was also a regular here and played on the center’s basketball team. He was the object of more than one girl’s affections. When I discovered Ariel and Kai were dating, it worried me, not only because of their ages—they were both fifteen—but because of Kai’s popularity.

So, it came as absolutely no surprise when she said, “I think he’s seeing someone else.”

“How do you know?”

“He hasn’t been coming here after school for the past week, and my brother said he saw Kai at the mall with a girl.”

My heart sank. I wanted to tell her that she was probably right about him, but I wasn’t sure she was emotionally ready to hear that.

“Well, don’t jump to any conclusions until you confront him, but you should definitely talk to him. Better to know these things than to be blindsided later. You don’t want to waste your time with someone who isn’t honest.”

Didn’t I know that.

Even though Elec hadn’t technically cheated on me physically, he had emotionally cheated.

Ariel wiped her eyes then turned to me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Whatever happened between you and Elec?”

My stomach dropped. I wasn’t expecting her to bring him up, and it was way too long of a story to rehash.

Elec used to be everyone’s favorite youth counselor. When he left the center, the kids were devastated. It had been common knowledge around here that we were boyfriend and girlfriend; everyone had gotten a real kick out of that.

“You mean you want to know why we broke up?”

“Yeah.”

If I was going to sum it all up in a single sentence, there was only one response. “He fell in love with someone else.”

Ariel looked confused. “How can you be in love with one person and just fall in love with someone else?”

Ah. The question of the year.

“I’m trying to figure that out myself, Ariel.”

“I remember how he acted around you. It seemed like you guys were in love.”

“I thought we were,” I whispered.

“Do you think he really didn’t love you at all…or was it just that he loved the other girl more?”

It was as if this fifteen-year-old girl had searched into my soul and picked out the one question that I’d asked myself the most. I wanted to be honest with her.

“I’m not sure if there are different levels of love, or if his leaving meant that he never loved me at all. I don’t understand if it’s possible to just stop loving someone. I’m trying to work through these very questions. But the bottom line is, if someone is cheating on you, they don’t love you.”

She stared off. “Yeah.”

Nudging her with my shoulder, I grinned. “The good news, though? You are still so young, and there is plenty of time to find the right one if it’s not Kai. You’re at a very difficult age right now, probably the most difficult stage of your life. Both you and he are hormonal and just discovering who you are.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you found someone else?”

“No.” I paused, looking down at my shoes. “I’m not sure I will.”

“Why not?”

How could I possibly shatter this young girl’s hopes? How could I admit aloud that I didn’t think I could ever trust another man again? That was my own personal issue, and I refused to taint her with my dark cloud of doubt.

“You know what? Anything is possible, Ariel.” I smiled.

If only I believed my own words.

HOLE IN THE WALL

“I just have a couple of minutes before I have to get my makeup done before the show, but tell me what’s going on,” Jade said.

I had texted my sister earlier: You’re never going to believe this. Call me.

It was right after discovering the identity of my landlord.

“So, you remember Angry Artist?”

“You banged him?”

“No!”

“What is it, then?”

“Turns out…he owns the building.”

“No way!”

“This is not good.”

“Why not? I think it’s great!” she said.

“In what way? Now, I’ll never get those dogs to shut up.”

“No, I mean when you guys start boning, you won’t even have to pay rent.”

“I’m not going to bone him. Because he’s a jackass. And even if in some bizarre universe, I were doing that…I would never not pay my rent. That would make me like a whore.”

She laughed. “Mmmm.”

“What?”

“Angry sex is the best sex, you know.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that before. I can’t say I’ve ever experienced it.”

“Well, when you have it with…what’s his name?”

“Damien. That’s his name. I’m not going to be having angry sex with Damien.”

“Damien? Like from The Omen?”

“That’s what I said to him! I mentioned that when he told me his name. He didn’t seem too happy.”

“When does he seem happy about anything?”

Snickering, I said, “True.”

“That’s hot, though. Shit…they’re calling me. I have to go.”

“Break a leg!”

“Fuck a landlord!”

“You’re nuts.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Conversations with my sister always put me in a good mood.

With an hour to go before my phone therapy session, I decided to go grab some takeout. On my way downstairs, I ran into Murray, the building super. He was sweeping the stairs and whistling while the metal from the dozens of keys he carried attached to his belt clanked together.

“Hey, Murray!”

“Well, hello there, gorgeous lady.”

“You don’t normally work on Tuesdays.”

“Going through a bit of a rough patch. Boss let me pick up some extra hours.”

“By boss…you mean D.H. Hennessey?”

“Yeah…Damien.”

“You know, I just met him. I had no clue that my anti-social, next-door neighbor with the barking dogs was actually the landlord.”

Murray chuckled. “Yeah, he doesn’t really advertise that fact.”

“What’s his deal?”

“You mean how does a young guy like that own this place?”

“Well, yeah, that, but also why is he so mean?”

“His bark is way bigger than his bite.”

“No pun intended there?”

“Right.” He laughed. “Deep down, Damien’s good people. Lets me work extra whenever I need to and real generous at Christmas time…even if he does seem to have a stick up his ass sometimes.”

“A stick? It’s more like a pole.” I snorted.

“Some days, yeah. But hey, he puts meals on my table, so you won’t hear that from me.” Murray winked.

“He’s pretty talented, though,” I said. “I’ll give him that.”

“Smart, too. Believe me. Rumor has it, he graduated from MIT.”

“MIT? Are you kidding?”

“Nope. Can’t judge a book by its cover. Invented something. Sold the rights to the patent apparently then used the money to invest in real estate. Now he just collects the rent and does what he wants…makes art.”

“Wow. That’s…pretty darn impressive.”

“You didn’t hear that from me, though.”

“Got it, Murray.”

“Fancy plans tonight?”

“Nope. Just heading to grab some dinner and bring it back to the apartment.”

“Well, enjoy.”

“I will.”

Twenty minutes later, I returned to my apartment with tostones and arroz blanco con gandules from my favorite restaurant, Casa del Sol.

After scarfing down my food, I sat in my room and meditated for a bit in preparation for my phone therapy session with Dr. Veronica Little: Relationship Trauma Specialist.

At two hundred dollars per one-hour session, Dr. Little wasn’t cheap. It was my mother who suggested I see someone to talk about my feelings. While I wasn’t sure if it was working, I continued to go along with it every Tuesday evening at eight-thirty.

Perhaps, I should have forwarded the bills to Elec.

I had my therapist on speakerphone while I folded laundry in the bedroom.

“You bring that question up a lot, Chelsea. Whether or not Elec truly loved you. I think part of why we can’t seem to move forward from that can be explained by the concept of the unicorn.”

“The unicorn? What is that?”

“A unicorn is something that is mythically beautiful and unattainable, right?”

“Okay…”

“That was what Greta was to Elec. He’d ruled out a possibility of love with her because she was forbidden. He was able to fall in love with you in the meantime. That love was quite genuine. However, when the unicorn suddenly becomes attainable, that changes everything. The power of the unicorn is extremely potent.”

“So, what you’re saying is that Elec really did love me but only when he basically thought that being with Greta was an impossibility. She was his unicorn. I wasn’t a unicorn.”

“That’s exactly right…you were not his unicorn.”

“I wasn’t his unicorn,” I repeated in a whisper. “Can I just—”

“I’m sorry, Chelsea. Our time is up for today. We’ll explore this issue a little more next Tuesday.

“Okay. Thanks, Dr. Little.”

Blowing out a long breath, I plopped onto my bed and tried to make sense of what she’d just said.

Unicorn. Hmm.

My body stilled at the sound of laughing.

At first I thought I was imagining it.

It was coming from behind my headboard.

I jumped up.

“Unicorn. What the fuck!” he said in his deep voice before cackling some more.

Damien.

He’d been listening to my therapy session!

My stomach dropped.

How could he hear all that through the wall?

“You’ve been eavesdropping on me?” I asked.

“No. You’ve been interrupting my work.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s a hole in the wall. I can’t help but hear your hot mess phone conversations when I’m working.”

“A…hole in the wall? You’ve known about this hole?”

“Yes. I haven’t gotten around to fixing it. Must have been there before I bought the building. Probably used to be a glory hole or some shit.”

“You’ve been listening to me…through a glory hole?”

“No. You’ve been subjecting me to asinine conversations with people who are ripping you off…through a glory hole.”

“You are such a…”

“A-hole?”

YOU BACON ME CRAZY

The following day in work, I couldn’t help but obsess over the fact that Damien had been listening to my private conversations. Was that even legal?

The night before, I’d stopped our communication through the wall pretty quickly after his revelation, retreating to the living room and polishing off a bottle of Zinfandel with a side of cookie dough.

Thankfully, I was too busy at the youth center today to let it totally consume me, since it was the evening of the center’s annual breakfast-for-dinner function. Once a year, the staff cooked a giant breakfast in the industrial-sized kitchen for all of the kids. My responsibility was frying pounds of bacon.

On the walk home, literally reeking of bacon grease, I resumed my obsessing over the hole in the wall. I’d noticed that the opening was actually right behind my bed. My only saving grace was that if my room was adjacent to his office, maybe he wasn’t typically in there as much at night as he would have been if it were another room. Maybe he hadn’t heard all of my sessions. Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

Exactly how much did Damien know? I got into some really private stuff with Dr. Little. Backtracking through it all during the walk home, I nearly knocked into a fruit stand.

Feeling fired up, when I arrived at my building, I impulsively passed my door and charged over to Damien’s apartment. The dogs, who were normally quiet in the evenings, were barking up a storm for some reason.

Knocking frantically, I planned to demand that Damien tell me exactly what he’d heard through my wall. When he didn’t open, I knocked harder. The barking intensified, but still no answer. Just as I was about to turn around and leave, the door flew open.

Damien’s dark hair was drenched, and beads of water were dripping from his forehead down to his chest. He was completely wet. The carved V at the bottom of his abs was proof that all of that working out downstairs was paying off. A small towel wrapped around his waist was the only piece of fabric on his otherwise naked body.

Rippled muscular body.

Holy shit.

He was obscenely hot.

I pried my eyes upward. “What are you doing answering the door like that?”

“What am I doing? What are you doing, knocking on my door like a lunatic? I tried to avoid having to get out of the shower, but I thought there was something seriously wrong. And what the hell is that smell? That’s not bacon, is it?”

“Yes. I was cooking bacon at work. I—”

“Fuck!” he growled through his teeth.

“I came to talk to you about fixing the hole in my wall, but clearly—”

Before I could finish my sentence, the two black rottweilers had charged toward where I was standing, pouncing on me as their weight knocked me onto my ass. They frantically licked my face, neck, and chest as I lay on the hallway floor. They were also biting at the material of my shirt.

Terrified, I managed to cry out, “Get them off of me!”

Damien struggled with the massive animals to finally remove them off my body. My face was sticky from slobber.

He forced them back into his apartment as their paws scratched and slipped against the hardwood floor. Damien then returned to the hallway and slammed the door behind him to lock the dogs inside.

He reached out his hand, and I took it as he slowly but forcefully lifted me off of the ground as if my body were light as a feather.

Speechless, I looked down at myself. A huge chunk of material was missing from the front of my shirt, exposing my bra.

He looked liked he was struggling with what to say. “Chelsea, I—”

“Are you happy now? Look what they did to me.”

“Fuck. Really? No. I’m not happy. The dogs are obsessed with bacon, okay? It’s like their catnip. That’s why they jumped on you. Why the hell did you have to come in here reeking of it?”

“I need to go,” I said, heading back toward my door.

He tried to stop me. “Wait.”

“No. Please. I just want to forget this ever happened.”

I retreated back to my apartment, leaving Damien standing there with his hands on his waist.

After a hot shower, I’d calmed down a bit, starting to think that maybe I had overreacted in blaming Damien for the dogs’ freak-out. He’d done his best to get them off of me quickly, not an easy feat considering he was also gripping his towel to keep from revealing his junk.

I was also pretty sure he was trying to apologize before I’d cut him off. Still, I had a bone to pick with him about the eavesdropping. But nothing was going to get addressed tonight. I was way too tired and feeling defeated.

Grabbing my purse, I decided to walk to the bodega and pick up something simple to make for dinner. Nearly tripping over a small bag on my way out, I bent down to pick it up and recognized that it was from Casper’s, the funny t-shirt store in town.

Inside was a rust-colored shirt in size small with white writing. It said You Bacon Me Crazy and had a smiley face with lips made out of bacon strips.

There was no note inside, but I knew it had to be from Damien.

On the return trip home with my groceries, I kept thinking about how he’d gone out of his way to buy the t-shirt as a peace offering. Was I being a bitch and overreacting about everything from the hole in the wall to the bacon attack? I honestly didn’t know. All I knew was that I didn’t really like the overly sensitive person I’d become over the past year.

After making myself a quick dinner of spaghetti and marinara sauce, I went back to my room to read. Every time I sat up in bed, I couldn’t help but wonder if Damien was on the other side of the wall.

When I thought I heard a noise behind me, I asked, “Are you there?”

After a brief pause came the deep sound of his voice. “Yes. I’m working in my office. I’m not eavesdropping on you.”

Not really expecting an answer, my heart started to pound.

After a minute passed, I broke the ice. “Thank you for the shirt.”

“Well, I owed you a shirt…and an apology.”

“I know I really didn’t give you a chance to apologize. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, so I continued, “What are their names? The dogs.”

“Dudley and Drewfus.”

“Cute. Where did you come up with those?”

“I didn’t.”

“Who did?”

“My ex.”

Interesting.

“I see.”

“Why are they so quiet at night…like right now…but so noisy in the morning?”

“They’re not here.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re with her. We share custody. She drops them off here on the way to work in the morning, and I return them at night.”

“Wow. I was wondering why I never hear them in the evenings. Now, it makes sense.” I had to know. “So, you used to be married?”

“No. Ex-girlfriend.”

“She used to live here with you and the dogs?”

“You know, for someone who didn’t want me knowing her business, you sure are nosey as fuck.”

“Sorry. But it’s only fair, don’t you think, after you’ve heard so much about me?”

He sighed. “Yes. She used to live here.”

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened? We broke up.”

“I know that. But I mean…why didn’t it work out?”

“There’s not always a clear answer to that question. It’s not always as simple as…” He hesitated. “Someone fucking their stepsister.”

Oh. My. God.

He’s such an asshole!

He’d definitely been listening to more than just the last session. Feeling ashamed, I’d never told anyone except Jade and Dr. Little that the woman Elec left me for was actually his stepsister, whom he’d apparently been in love with for years—since he was a teenager.

When I didn’t say anything, he chuckled. “I’m sorry. That was bad. I’m going to hell.”

I remained silent, shaking my head in disbelief.

He continued, “That really happened? Sounds like something out of a bad book.”

“Yes, it really happened. What else did you hear?”

“Christ, I’m not judging you, Chelsea. I could care less about all of it. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“That therapist is ripping you off.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s pulling unicorns out of her ass just to get you to keep questioning everything so you keep paying her money. Tell me this. After all these weeks, are you any closer to feeling better, figuring it all out?”

“No.”

“That’s because sometimes there isn’t a satisfying explanation for everything. You want an answer? Shit happens. There’s your answer. People fall out of love, in love, fuck up. It’s part of life. You didn’t do anything wrong. Stop trying to figure out what you did wrong.”

Closing my eyes, I let his words resonate. To my surprise, my eyes were welling up. Not because he was yelling at me, but because it was the first time it really sank in that there was nothing I could have done to stop what happened. And that maybe it wasn’t all my fault.

I finally spoke again. “I wasn’t always so insecure. It’s just…the experience with him—with Elec—has really been a defining moment in my life because it’s made me question everything. I thought I did everything right to make that relationship work. I believed he loved me, and I felt safe with him, saw my entire future with him. I would have bet my life on it. I just feel like I won’t be able to ever trust anyone with my heart again. That scares me, because I don’t want to end up alone. I really thought he was the one.”

“Well, clearly, he wasn’t. You just have to accept that and move on. I know that’s easier said than done, but that’s what it comes down to. You have no choice but to accept it, so it’s up to you whether you want to waste more time living in the past, trying to solve an insoluble problem instead of moving on with your life.”

God, he was right.

I cracked a smile. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“This is all common sense.”

“No. Not just this. I mean…MIT?”

“How did you find out about that?”

“So, the rumor’s true?”

“Yes. I went there, but it’s not something I brag about.”

“You should be very proud of yourself. That’s amazing.”

“It’s not that amazing. People fighting for our country…kids battling cancer…those are amazing people. Sitting in a physics class with a bunch of other nerds is hardly amazing.”

“You’re hardly a nerd, Damien.”

“Not on the surface, no.”

“I would have never guessed based on…”

“Based on what?”

“How you look…that you went to MIT.”

“Why? Because I have ink and work out?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just you’re…”

Effing gorgeous. And no one as hot as you could possibly be equally as smart.

“Never mind,” I said.

I closed my eyes again, relishing the new clarity brought on by his straightforward advice.

After a long moment of silence, he said, “I’m headed out. Murray’s coming to patch the hole in the wall tomorrow afternoon. If you’re at work, he’ll let himself in.”

“Thank you.”

Oddly, I wasn’t sure I minded the hole anymore.

BURNIN’ DOWN THE HOUSE

My landlord followed through with his promise. The very next day, Murray had plastered over the hole, thus killing any chance of future impromptu therapy sessions with Dr. Damien.

In fact, an entire week went by without a single altercation between D.H. Hennessey and me.

The dogs were still barking every morning, but I didn’t dare go near them long enough to complain. Now that I knew his ex dropped them off, if I happened to be up, I’d watch from the window to see if I could catch a glimpse of her.

One day, I managed to look out at just the right time, spotting a girl around my age with short brown hair racing into the apartment building with the two rottweilers. I then ran to my door, cracking it open a bit to spy as she passed down the hallway. She’d whizzed by so fast that I really didn’t get a very good look, except to see that she was curvier than me.

After five minutes, I could hear her footsteps as she left his apartment. Watching from the window as she ran through the courtyard, I wondered what type of a relationship they had now, whether it was amicable, whether they ever still had sex. I wondered who ended it. I also wondered why I was thinking about something that wasn’t any of my business—why as of late, I was constantly thinking about Damien. One thing was for certain: it was a hell of a lot better than constantly thinking about Elec.

That same afternoon on the walk to work, I noticed that Damien had added quite a bit to the mural since last check. There was now a section depicting a bunch of pyramids.

Chills ran through me as I marveled at his talent and all of the intricate details of his work, the way the colors all blended and faded into each other. I wondered if there was any significance to the scenic images. Damien Hennessey was one complex human being.

When I arrived at the youth center, Ariel was waiting in my office. She looked like she’d been crying.

Shit.

Even though I knew what had likely transpired, I asked, “What happened?”

“I was right about Kai. He was cheating on me.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

After letting her vent for the better part of an hour, I finally said, “There’s a reason for the serenity prayer, Ariel. You ever hear of it?”

“The one about praying for the strength to accept the things we can’t change? Yeah, my mom taught it to me a long time ago.”

“Yes. That’s the one. I’m still working on that myself, but really, we have no choice but to accept certain things. All we can do is try our best to move on.”

I smiled to myself, realizing that I was basically giving Ariel the same advice that Damien had given me. It was so much easier dishing out that advice than adhering to it.

On the walk home that night, for some unknown reason, I felt more at peace than I had in a long time. I decided to pick up one of my favorite frozen individual lasagnas from the organic section of the market. I’d bake it and have it with some wine, maybe watch something on Netflix. I was getting excited about it.

Boy, my life was pretty pathetic.

After I arrived at the apartment, I placed the lasagna into the preheated toaster oven. It would take forty minutes to bake all the way through. That would leave me just enough time to take a bath, shave my legs and maybe read a little in the tub.

It was probably the most relaxing bath I’d ever taken. Surrounded by candles, I immersed myself in an addicting book Jade had gifted me. It was actually a ménage romance. I didn’t normally read such kinky stuff, but she was adamant that I would love it, especially since it was about two men and a woman instead of the other way around. I ended up getting really into it—so much so, that I somehow fell asleep after pleasuring myself to one of the hottest scenes.

The sound of the smoke alarm, and the smell of burning cheese caused me to jolt up from the tub. Grabbing a towel, I ran to the kitchen to find flames shooting from my toaster oven. It was on fire!

Panicking, I grabbed a bowl and began to fill it with water. Before I had a chance to dump the water onto anything, my door burst open. The next thing I knew, Damien was charging toward me with an extinguisher and yelling at me to get back.

Everything happened so fast. I just stood there numb, clutching the towel around me as he doused the flames.

When the fire was fully out, Damien and I both stood there in silence looking at the charred remains of my beloved toaster oven. The damage was mostly contained to the oven itself, but the countertop looked like it might have been charred a bit, too.

I coughed from the smoke.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, still staring at the scene of the disaster.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for whatever damage was done to the counter. I—”

“How did this happen?”

“Frozen lasagna…it burned.”

“No. I mean…how did it happen?”

“I was reading a book in the bathtub and—”

“You were reading in the tub,” he interrupted, gritting his teeth. “You were READING in the tub while you were also cooking something that almost burned my goddamn building down?”