Page 170 of Checking Out the Librarian

“One tonight, and then one at your apartment later.”

“My place.” His voice wasn’t as confident as he would wish, but Connor had never criticized his apartment. If anything, he’d seemed to like it, even if most of the furniture was trash.

“Yes. The place you want me to help de-furnish. The place I’ve never seen. The place you allegedly live. Unless your apartment is actually a coffin at the Masonic cemetery?”

“Fine, we can do that. Fine.” Lily would like the chaise longue, she wouldn’t stay long, and anything she said about his home would be funny, not mean.

He would craft the fuck out of these kits and not think about more people in his space. It would be glorious because he was improving and opening up to new possibilities and la la la. Also, next Monday he could tell his therapist, so double win.

The rest of the day followed the pattern, story time, answering questions about how to get on job posting boards, constantly handling books and periodicals, helping people open new library cards. All of it the same. He should be enjoying this.

He missed Connor.

Connor was going to come out to his family this week and Jonathan had no earthly idea how that would go, which was eating at his dark doomed soul. Connor was the world’s nicest man, thus his family must be nice because they raised him; but he suspected that corollary had no basis in logic and he was spiraling.

He was so fucking spiraling. He needed Pawsley and a glass of chilled pinot grigio and, most of all, Connor.

Finally, it was the end of the day. He carefully draped his library cardigan, which had survived the dry cleaner after being Pawsley’s emergency blanket, over his chair. No more delay. He turned and saw Lily gathering her bag, and the pit of his stomach told him that taking the next step might mean he was no longer merely cosplaying as a well-adjusted person.

“So, you want to meet me at my place?”

She looked at him wordlessly but nevertheless conveyed her disbelief that he’d bothered to ask.

“Fine.” Ugh, he needed to stop using that word. It had become meaningless. “I’ll give you the address. We have to load up Pawsley and take him to Connor’s too so he can get socialization.”

“He’s in my car! Mine!”

“He rides with a litter box.” They should get a second one when Connor returned.

“Your car! He’s in your car!”

An hour later, after a blessedly brief interlude of marveling over his couch, his Rebecca poster theme, and the faux zebra rug, they had retrieved everything, including a rambunctious kitten, from Jonathan’s home, and unloaded at Connor’s.

“Where did you get this furniture?” Lily examined the pieces they had carried through the hall and into the living room.

“Various places.” He crouched to put the drop cloths in place along the baseboard, which gave him something to do with his hands.

“Seriously, this is nice.” She ran her fingers along the white lacquered sides of the shallow closed cabinet perfectly sized to conceal shoes, something which had been sadly lacking in Connor’s front hall and which recent events had only emphasized. “And the gold handles match the mirror perfectly.”

Jonathan felt his face get hot.

“Wait. You look funny. Why?”

“It’s mine. They’re mine.”

She continued to stare at him. “Both things? The shoe cabinet and the mirror?”

And the pillar candle waiting to become a welcoming object d’art, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

“I didn’t have time to thrift, alright? It’s not a big deal. I’ll have plenty of time in the fall when Connor’s back at work to find myself a replacement and refinish it, but I wanted to get this done for him.”

“You did this finish?” She stroked the glossy white sides again. “You’re good.”

He ducked his head and shoved more of the drop cloth into the corner. “Should I get a blue and white floral type bowl, or a more natural stoneware, what do you think?”

“Absolutely no idea. What’s it for?”

He stood and moved to the stack of paint trays and rollers he’d bought yesterday. “Well, there’s already going to be a lidded jar for dog treats, and a scented pillar candle. I’ve discovered that dog treats are not unscented, and that has to be neutralized.” He finished removing the plastic wrapping. “The bowl would be the third thing in the vignette, and it might hold keys or whatever Connor decides. It’s his house.”