No one normal.
Only when the buzzer goes off to the downstairs door do I remember that Jess is walking me to work. Fortunately, no panic or dread follows this memory and realization. I simply don’t appear to be reactive today, but then again, this is also Jess. She knows about Adam, at least some things about Adam. And she’s all about a man opening his wallet for a woman. Jack will be another story. I haven’t fully explained my transformation to him. If I tell him about Adam buying me luxurious gifts, he’ll be worried in a way Jess will not. Therefore, where Jack is concerned, I may be forced to ride a fictional line with him that I’d rather not call a lie.
Instead of buzzing Jess up, I grab my oversize purse, in which my newest book is still marked with the letter opener “bookmark” at the same spot as days ago. Want proof I’m not me? I’m not reading. That’s not me. It’s someone I do not recognize one little bit. I stuff my Mac inside my bag as well, check the weather to decide whether I need a jacket, finding it mild and the jacket unneeded. Ready, or as ready as I can be for any day with Adam in my life, I head down to the door and then downstairs.
I meet Jess at the door to the bookstore. As usual, she is beauty and style personified, in a black pantsuit, a silky pink blouse beneath offering a perfect splash of color. I have no idea what brand she wears. Again, that’s not my thing, but she knows mine, and right away.
She gives me an up and down and says, “Gucci. It looks good on you. He couldn’t splurge on shoes to match?”
I roll my eyes. “Really, Jess?”
She shrugs. “Do it right or don’t do it at all.”
“He bought shoes. They’re too high to walk to work and around the library.”
“Then he didn’t do it right, but at least he has footwear awareness.” We start walking toward the coffee shop. “He must be some civil engineer to buy you Chanel and Gucci,” she comments.
She’s right, of course. This all seems extravagant for a civil engineer. “They did bring him in from Texas to design some highway, but maybe he inherited money like you did, too. We haven’t talked about it.”
“Hmm,” she replies. “Yes, well, I don’t use mine.” She glances at me. “I would—you know I would for you—but you would never let me throw my money at you. Interestingly, though, this man is another story. You’re letting him buy you things.”
“Not really,” I say. “He’s just rather dogmatic in his generosity.”
My mind hangs on that word,generosity, when I want to replace it with another, such asthreatsordemands.
“He must be,” she replies. “When can I meet him?”
Never,I think. I don’t want him anywhere near the people I love. “He wants to meet you,” I say. “We just have to work out the details.”
We enter the coffee shop and place our order before claiming a seat at a table. “You could bring him to my award ceremony,” Jess suggests, picking up where we left off in the conversation.
“You already know I’m bringing Jack after I attend his uncle’s wedding with him.”
“And how does this man of yours feel about Jack?”
“Order for Jess!”
She lifts a finger. “Hold that thought. I’ll grab our coffees.” She stands and disappears, out of sight and mind for just a moment.
I’m no longer numb. Fear and worry form a fist in my gut. How will Adam react to me attending the wedding and the party with Jack? Do I tell him? Of course I have to tell him. He knows. He always knows. Seeming to hide anything from that man feels dangerous. Heknows about Jack. He knows he’s just a friend. And I’m not even sure Adam is really into me as a woman. It’s more like a protégé or submission. Maybevictimis a more fitting choice.
Jess rejoins me, setting my coffee in front of me. “Where were we?” she asks. “Oh yes. How will the new man—Adam, right?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “Adam.”
“How will Adam feel about you and Jack attending not one, but two, events together Saturday?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “But I’m not letting Jack down.”
Unless Adam forces me to in order to ensure Jack’s safety,I think.
“I’m not surprised,” Jess replies. “As much as I don’t approve of Jack as your plus-one, I know you, and you are stubbornly committed to him.”
“And you,” I remind her.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Which is why I tolerate him.” She moves on before I can punch back on that one. “You and this Adam dude are new, so my advice you didn’t ask for: either don’t tell him about Saturday, or tell him and make it clear he has to deal with it or be gone. Don’t do what you did with Kevin and stand in the background. Set the rules up front. Demand your own identity. I mean, him dressing you is all fine and dandy—but I only somewhat approve.”
“Why? You love a man to break out his plastic.”
