Page 55 of Naked Coffee Guy

“Lawsuit?” Maren tilts her head and her eyes widen. “It was Molly’s family, wasn’t it? She was in and out of the hospital with that boy of hers. Then they moved without any notice. You paid them off, didn’t you?”

I nod, eyes trained on the ground. It was probably the lowest moment of this whole nightmare. It was the air conditioner. Every time they ran the unit, they were spreading the mold around the house. I didn’t learn about the extent of the issue until Benji slapped the lawsuit on my desk.

“Buy the apartments,” he’d said, pausing only to cough from the forcefulness of this words. By this time, Benji knew he was terminal. But it took legal action for him to finally let go of the apartments. “Buy them and take care of this mess.”

“I paid them off, then I bought the apartments from Benji,” I tell Maren now, “Benji had an inspector in his back pocket who wouldn’t turn us in, but he leveled with me on the true value of the place. He said the cost of fixing the issues would be more than I purchased the apartments for, which I was willing to pay. But then he pointed out that we were lucky to only have one lawsuit, that if we took the time to fix everything, the other tenants would become aware of the issues and we’d have more lawsuits on our hands.”

“So you tore it down to save your ass,” Maren says.

I exhale sharply, and I nod.

“That’s a simple way to put it,” I say.

“It’s not that simple,” she retorts, “After all, dozens of us had to scramble for new places to live while you slept cozy in your bed.”

Hundreds, really. The Beale Street Apartments were only the last of Benji’s properties to go.

“And to make things all the better,” Maren continues, “you saw me at that bar and actually thought it would be a great idea to get to know me better.”

“It’s not like that—”

“Really? Because it seems that way. You see me there about to throw away my sobriety, and you knew exactly why I was drinking in the first place. So, what? Did you have a good laugh that night? Have you been laughing this whole time?”

“Maren, you know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Mac!”

I take her shoulders, and she struggles to be free, but I hold firm.

“Believe that I made a lot of missteps in all of this, and it’s a lot more complicated than you think. But also believe that I am in love with you, and none of this has been a joke.”

The words slip out of my mouth, and I’m surprised at how easy I say them. I’m also surprised that I mean them. I notice the hitch in her anger, as if I chipped my way into her stony heart. But the fire is still there, and I know I have a long way to go to regain her trust.

“If I could take it all back, I would,” I continue, “but if I did, I don’t know that we would have met, and for that alone, I’m glad it all happened.”

I search her eyes, looking for something I can hold onto. All I see is rage. She yanks herself out of my reach.

“You’re fucking delusional,” she says, “Love me? How? Our whole relationship is built on lies. You could have told me everything from the beginning, starting with how we really knew each other.”

“Right,” I say. I huff a laugh. “You never even gave me the time of day. I came into your apartment to fix that leak under your sink, and you just strummed your guitar with Paramore on blast, ignoring me the whole time. So, why would I start with that?”

“Paramore,” Maren whispers. She points an accusatory finger at me. “I didn’t ignore you at all,” she continues. “You asked me about the posters on my wall, and then stayed an hour after you fixed that leak to listen to Riot! from beginning to end.” She pauses, then gives me a curious look. “Did you…like me?”

“I was fucking crazy about you.”

A half smile forms on her face, but she quickly brushes it away. She shakes her head, as if shaking away any kind of reasoning.

“Crazy about me? You didn’t even know me!”

“I didn’t have to. You made a big impression.” I dare a step closer, and when she doesn’t move away, I take another step. “But when I saw you at Torches, a glass of wine in your hand, I knew I was the one who put it there. When I realized you had no idea who I was, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you because then everything would come out, and I’d never get the chance to know you.”

“And when I left?”

“I thought you figured it out.”

“I didn’t,” she says, “I mean, not exactly. I found out you were the agent who sold it. I didn’t know you were the owner or anything else. That night, it was enough to know you had a part in it, and I didn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“And yet, here we are.” I offer a small smile and my hand.