Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
As for actually being friends with Lars, I had no damn idea whether that was possible. Time would tell. Meanwhile, the firelight flickered and the chair was comfy and my backyard rocked.
* * *
I leaned around the side of the house and called out, “Lunch is ready.”
After decorating my backyard yesterday, Lars was now busy pulling off the house’s old siding. And the way the muscles in his arms were bunching and working while the sun graced his sweat-dampened skin, it was as if he were a summertime god. All virile and large and shiny. Wait a minute. That was not me getting poetic about a male. Heck no. Wash my mind out with soap.
“We’re eating inside,” I said, averting my eyes.
“You don’t have to keep making me lunch.”
“It’s nothing.”
Things had been off since his arrival this morning. We were now uneasy around one another. I blamed it on the makeover out back. Lines had been crossed. Not that there’d been any clear delineation previously. But in my experience, a dude didn’t buy cushions and party lights for just anyone. His apparent determination for us to be friends was...surprising. Though now that I thought about it, maybe he just felt bad about how his birthday night ended and wanted to make it up to me. In which case, I was definitely making more out of this than I should be. Overthinking things was such a joy.
Once he’d washed up, he sat opposite me at the round mahogany dining table. Then, without preamble, he picked up his fork and dug into his bowl of cauliflower gnocchi with semi-dried tomatoes, chicken, basil, and a creamy parmesan garlic sauce. A simple enough dish. Not a big deal at all.
“This is nice,” he said between bites.
My smile was more of a wince.
The other half of the table was taken up with my laptop and assorted paperwork. One of the issues with having a floating office was the tendency for things to become strewed about. And that was good. It meant I hadn’t completely lost my fucking mind and gone overboard trying to impress Lars with my domestic skills or anything.
“Do you think we’d be sitting here together now if not for the divorce certificate?” I asked.
He stopped and pondered the thought. “I don’t know. I really thought someone would have come forward by now. Said that they forged the certificate and placed it in the wall somehow.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, it’s fake. We both know that. It has to be. It would just be nice to know how they got it in there. ’Cause I still don’t have a clue.” He stared off at nothing for a moment. “You’re probably right, though. Without it, we wouldn’t have made this weird connection or whatever it is.”
“I think if the certificate hadn’t appeared we wouldn’t have had any of these conversations,” I said. “You’d have done the work on the house. It would have been awkward having you here. And then you would have finished the job and gone on your merry way. The end.”
“Mmm.”
“We wouldn’t have gotten to know each other on a different level separate from days of yore and therefore we wouldn’t have become friends. That’s my theory, anyway.”
He nodded.
“Did you know that there are three types of friends according to Aristotle?” I asked. Just making conversation. “Friendships of utility, friendships of pleasure, and friendships of the good.”
Lars blinked.
“Utility is when you’re useful to each other. Say, a neighbor or a coworker or a client. While friendships of pleasure are when you enjoy each other’s company. Like you and your hiking buddies, for example. You enjoy doing certain activities together,” I explained. “Whereas friendships of good are based on mutual respect and admiration. Shared virtues and goals. You may not have many actual interests in common, but these people are your closest friends just the same. Isn’t that interesting?”
“Sure.”
“Just thought I’d share that.”
He cocked his head. “Nothing in particular made you mention that today?”
“Well, it’s just that you could say we’re friends of utility because of our current professional relationship. What with you working on my house.”
At this point, he set his fork down, giving me his full attention.
“Or a case could be made that we’re perhaps more friends of pleasure. Because we enjoy dining and sometimes drinking together.”
“Okay.”
“But friends of good is the ultimate goal, right?” I asked. “Building long-term relationships with people you can trust. You might not necessarily feel like you have room or a need for someone like that in your life, however.”
“Are you asking what kind of friends we are?”
I shrugged. “There’s every possibility I’m overthinking things. But I like to know where I stand with people. And this situation between us can be confusing.”
“Because of the divorce?”
“Because of everything.”
“Is that what you need?” he asked with a frown. “Labels?”
“I guess it is. As cute as confused looks on me, I can’t say I enjoy it.”