Chapter Twenty-Two
At Sidecar Donuts on Wilshire Boulevard, I pick up my all-time favorite huckleberry and old-fashioned donuts. At the last second, I order a couple apple fritters, too. It’s not that I’m trying to bribe Jonathan with donuts, I’m just hoping they’ll put him in a happier frame of mind to say yes to us having a shindig at his house.
As soon as I pull up his ridiculously long driveway, I see Jonathan’s car and an unknown SUV parked out front. Grabbing my goodies, I head in. “Honey, I’m home!” I call out as soon as I walk through the door.
“Who are you talking to?” comes the immediate response. It sounds like it’s coming from some distance, so I have no idea where to head.
“You,” I holler back. “I saw your car in the driveway. Why are you here? Also, where are you?”
“I’m in the dining room. Take the second left and the first right,” he instructs.
I quickly check my reflection in the entryway mirror to make sure there are no lingering crumbs from the two donuts I ate on the way here. Once I’m sure I look respectable, I follow his directions.
Jonathan’s dining room could seat twenty with ease which makes it kind of funny to see him and Justin Fox at the far end of the table all by themselves. “This looks very romantic,” I joke.
Justin stands and laughs. “As hot as Jonathan is, my wife might have a thing or two to say about us dating.”
Jonathan inexplicably decides to announce, “I’m sure Emily is devastated to find out that you’re married.”
In response to Justin’s questioning look, I say to him, “I told you, Atlas is my crush, not Justin.”
“How can one be a crush and not the other,” he wants to know.
I turn to Jonathan’s lunch guest and say, “While I’m sure you’re a great guy, you’re no Greek god, am I right?”
“Correct,” he answers with a glint in his eye.
I turn to Jonathan. “It’s the Greek god thing that sells it for me, but I already told you that.”
“What are you doing here this time of day?” Jonathan wants to know. “Don’t you have a job?”
“You know full well that I have a job, but I’m working from home today.”
“Wait, you live here?” Justin asks. “I thought this was Jonathan’s house and he was renting your townhouse because he was having work done.” Then to Jonathan he says, “Yet, as far as I can tell everything looks like it always has.”
I feel the need to add, “Yes, Jonathan, why is that?”
He glares at me before turning to his friend, “Emily and I have temporarily switched houses.”
“Because …” Justin prompts.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Jonathan prefaces before explaining, “Emily has a reputation for being something of a psychic realtor. She finds the perfect houses for people who want to find a love match. For some reason, she felt that I needed to be at her place for that to happen.”
“And she needed to be here?”
“I didn’t want to displace her, so I graciously agreed to let her live like a queen here while I hole up in her place.”
“Yet, you don’t seem to be doing such a great job staying in my house, do you?” How dare he make it sound like I live in a hovel?
“It’s tiny!” he yells at me.
“I’m going to bring George over here if you don’t spend more time with him.”
“Who’s George?” Justin wants to know, wearing an amused expression, clearly enjoying watching Jonathan and me squabble.
“Her cat,” Jonathan spits. Then to me, he demands, “Did you come home just to fight with me?”
“I had no idea you’d be here,” I lie. “But now that I have you, I need to ask you a question.” This is SO not the right time to ask him, as he’s in the middle of a meeting, but as I’m almost sure he’s going to say no anyway, I decide to get it over with. “I want to have a party here.”
“Absolutely not,” he says before I can explain.
“Why?”
“It’s not your house.”
“It is while she’s staying here,” Justin intercedes on my behalf.
Jonathan looks at his friend with annoyance, while I hurry to explain, “I want to have a Valentine’s Day party for my single clients. You could come, too.”
“I thought your single clients had to buy houses to find love. Are you suggesting that isn’t the case and they might meet at a party? Because if that’s so, I’m moving home today.”
“I don’t know if it will work, but I thought I’d try it. In fact, just this morning, I watched romance bloom between two of my clients.”
“So, you’re the common denominator, not the houses?”
I shrug. “Again, I don’t know. But I’m guessing if you find love because of me, you won’t care how it comes about.”
“Yes, but I could be at home living in the lap of luxury instead of at your place.” What a grouch.
“Am I the only one who sees what’s going on here?” Justin wants to know.
“If you’re suggesting that Jonathan and I are destined to be an item, you’re wrong,” I say.
“Why?” Justin asks. “Are you already taken?”
“No, but Jonathan isn’t the kind of guy I see myself with.”
“Why not?” Jonathan demands. “Not that I’m interested,” he seems to feel the need to add.
“Why are you being so snippy? You don’t even like me!” I practically yell.
“I like you just fine,” he says. “Now, tell me and Justin what kind of man you envision yourself with. We’re dying to know.”
“Fine.” I slam the donuts on the table in a huff before sitting down across from the most famous movie star I’ve ever met. “I’m looking for a nice, normal guy. One who’s home on the weekends, who will go camping with me, and bring me Pop-Tarts in bed.”
Justin looks at Jonathan and says, “That doesn’t sound like you.”
Jonathan shrugs. “If that’s her criteria, then no, that’s not me. I haven’t eaten a Pop-Tart since I was a kid, and with Gerard’s excellent pastries around, I don’t expect I’ll ever want another.”
“I think what she’s saying is that she wants a man who will be around. I’m guessing the Pop- Tart thing isn’t the biggest part of the equation.” Justin looks at me. “Am I right?”
“I guess,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward. Just last night, I was thinking there might be something between Jonathan and me, but he bolted before anything could happen. That, and his demeanor today, clearly suggest he isn’t interested in me. And now he’s acting all butthurt that I don’t think he’s the one for me. What in the heck is going on here?
Justin says, “I think you should let her have the party, Jonathan, and I think you should go to it.”
“I don’t want strangers tramping through my house.”
“We can have it outdoors and the guests can use the pool house bathroom,” I say, hoping to shoot down his concerns.
“If I say yes,” Jonathan asks, “will you leave so Justin and I can continue our meeting?”
“Gladly,” I practically shout.
“Fine. Then yes, have a party, but no people in my house. And you have to hire a valet so that your guests won’t drive over the garden.”
I roll my eyes and tell Justin, “The guy I’m going to fall in love with will like having people over and he won’t obsess over a tire track on his lawn.” I don’t wait for either of them to answer but I hear Justin laughing as I walk out of the room.