“Yeah, so?”

“So don’t let this thing about Andrew ruin what you have together. He is allowed to have a past.”

My brow knitted together, unable to see the correlation between monkeys mating habits and Andrew having an ex-fiancée. Right as I was about to tap into Monica’s brain, a black SUV slid along the curb. Andrew had arrived.

I hitched my thumb toward the vehicle. “Do you want a ride?”

“Hell yes.”

As we climbed inside the eighty degree heated interior, my eyes found Andrew’s gaze in the rear view mirror. Flashing a grin exclusively for me, I couldn’t help but think I could get used to this as long as whatever this was, lasted.

Andrew disappeared into his art studio to prepare for his upcoming show. For two days, he literally lived and breathed his creations. We formed a ritual reminiscent of an old married couple. At lunch, I would make myself a peanut butter sandwich and leave the second one on the counter wrapped in cellophane. Andrew would appear, eat, and then go back to his studio.

Pete closed the coffee shop due to a damaged pipe. Down a job, I had more free time on my hands than I liked. Nonetheless, it gave me a chance to ruminate on how to generate seven hundred dollars within five days. So far, my list contained three ideas: win the lottery, find a stash of money, and working the street corner because apparently prostitution ran in my family. None of them were feasible. Andrew wouldn’t blink if I asked him. However, that wouldn’t happen until pigs flew. I wasn’t a project he could invest in. My pen tapped against the yellow notepad to the beat of my foot. Big Ted had been vague with his timeline yet the desperation hinted at the sooner the better. Nonetheless, if he harmed a hair on Sumiko’s head, the knife hidden in my sock drawer would be put to use. I wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse filleting Big Ted like a slimy fish. On top of the money owed, there was also my dream money. I needed a minimum of a thousand dollars to begin my road trip. Three months would creep up on me sooner than excepted. Hopelessness wrapped around my shoulders. Burying my face into my hands, I groaned.

“I can’t escape emotional women. I swear you guys are taking over the world.”

I lifted my head. Matthew leaned against the refrigerator, swigging out of a glass milk bottle. It hit me Matthew was Andrew’s Monica. Didn’t knock, ate all your food, and was more like family than a friend.

“Andrew is in his studio,” I said.

“What else is new? That guy would marry his easel and paint brushes if he could.”

“Has he always painted?”

Andrew finished the last drops of milk and belched. My nose twitched in revulsion. “Excuse me.” He patted his stomach. “Andrew has painted as long as I have known him, which is about six years. This Saturday is the first time though he is showing his work to the public.”

“Really?”

“Yup. The dude is incredibly private about his paintings. Nobody is allowed inside his studio except Camilla.” Matthew eyes bulged as he spoke Andrew’s ex-fiancée’s name. “Shit. Forget I said that.”

The secrecy was what baffled me. Relationships ended, what was so special about Andrew’s?

As if he saw my determination to seek the answers I craved, Matthew held up his hands and backed toward the hallway. “Oh no. I can’t tell you anything. Zilch, nada, nothing. This is Andrew’s story to tell, not mine.”

“So there is a story?”

“Shit!” He stopped halfway through the archway. “Yes, there is a story but that’s all you’re getting.”

“Can you at least tell me if it’s a happy, sad, or tragic story?”

Matthew hesitated. “Fine. It’s a mixture of all three.” I opened my mouth to speak but he pressed his fingers against his lips. “Shhhh! You’re a noisy little mouse, aren’t you? Ask Andrew.”

Andrew’s light didn’t shed further than the earth’s crust. “Do you really think he would tell me?”

“I have no clue. Has he said anything so far?”

“Kind of. He said they broke up six months ago.”

Matthew scoffed. “Please, they were over before they met.” He paused then stomped his foot. “Damn it. I used to be so good at keeping my mouth shut like a proper man. My three girls are making me weak.”

Andrew took that moment to breeze into the kitchen. Flecks of paint covered his hair. Matthew and I fell silent at his entrance. Andrew opened the cupboard and grabbed a glass.

As he turned on the tap, Andrew glanced over his shoulder at us. “What’s up? You two look like you swallowed a canary.”

Our words tumbled over each other in a jumble of over explaining. I shot a death glare at Matthew who turned around and jump shot the milk bottle into the recycling bin.

“Score!” he yelled.

The distraction worked. Andrew gulped the water, wiped his mouth and set the glass in the sink. “You need to stop eating me out of my house and tell your wife that you can’t stand her hippy diet anymore,” he said to Matthew.

“She will yap on about high cholesterol and how I should do it for the kids.”

Andrew leveled a stare at him. “Grow a pair of balls, dude.”

“I don’t have balls. My wife stole them.”

Barking out a laugh, I slapped my palm over my mouth. “Sorry.”

Andrew looked at us and shook his head as if we were two pesky teenagers. “I can’t deal right now.” Yanking open the fridge, he scanned the continents. “Is there anything I can eat on the go?”

I assumed he was talking to me. “Yeah, there is quinoa salad in a plastic container near the juice.”

“Awesome.”

He shut the door with his foot while balancing an apple, the quinoa salad, and a bottle of water. He slid a look at Matthew. “Go home. I don’t want your wife to steal my balls too.” Andrew pressed a kiss against my hair as he walked past. “I’ll you see later, ok?”

“Ok.”

I watched him disappear back into his cave with stars in my eyes. The man had an ability to soften my heart like nobody else.

Matthew’s chin snapped back and forth between us, quizzically. “When did you two become domesticated? Let alone a couple. Do you like live here now or something?”

I lifted myself out of the dining room chair. “None of your beeswax. I’ll see you later.”

“Andrew tends to fall in love fast and furious. Just take things slow like super slow. Slower than molasses. It will be better for both of you in the long run. Alright?”

Matthew’s concern for his friend was touching, but he had nothing to worry about.

I touched the crook of his elbow. “We are going at a glacier speed, much to my annoyance.”

He grinned. “My wife and I waited two months before we hit home base.”

“Was it worth it?”

The expression that flashed over his face said it all. “We will be married ten years tomorrow. Through the highs, the lows, and the mundane moments, I have had my best friend by my side. I would have waited a year if I had to. My family is everything.” Mathew leaned in and spoke to the quiet murmurs of doubt that fluttered in my heart. “Camilla wasn’t right, but you—you’re right.”

My cell phone blared underneath my pillow. I pried open my eyes, surprised to see darkness. It wasn’t time to get up for work so why was my alarm singing? It stopped ringing then picked up again. I blindly reached for my cell phone as panic rung in my ears. Like my mother always said, nothing good happens after 2:00 a.m.

A blocked number flashed on the call screen. “Hello,” I answered groggily.

“Is this Haven McClain? Apartment number 201?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to report there was a fire….”

I bolted upright in bed. The stranger on the phone line droned on, his words blending together.