“Art is everything to me.”
His hands paused by my shoulders. “But you never talk about art. For God’s sake, you’re an actuary, Kira.”
“Not all of us have the privilege of working in the same field as our passion.”
Xavier was a chemical engineer. He loved numbers, organic chemistry, and formulas. Meanwhile, I had to beg my high school chemistry teacher to bump my 89.8 up to a 90. Which was a big deal at the time, considering I had never received lower than an A+.
The point was he got to go to work every day and do what he loved. Not many people got to do that. Me included.
“Sure, but you like being an actuary, don’t you?”
My shoulders deflated, and he removed his hands. What was my point, again? We had strayed so far from the original question.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ll find someone else to replace Jordan.”
“What about Macey?” Xavier suggested.
Between her busy blog that kept her on the road and her frequent love fests with her boyfriend, Macey didn’t have time for a massage appointment, let alone time to volunteer with me.
“Maybe,” I said. Just to let the issue die.
“It’ll work out, baby.” Xavier shot me a smile, all straight teeth.
I wished I could share in his positivity. But there were few things in life I had taken for myself, the volunteer art class one of them, and I had a sinking feeling that would soon be ripped from me too.
With one hand, I rubbed at my eye. “Sure.”
“Did you want to?—”
“Actually,” I cut him off, “I just remembered that Macey needed help with something at the apartment. I can’t stay tonight.”
Disappointment showed on his face, but even though the smile faltered, it didn’t fade. “Sure. I’ll drive you back.”
“It’s okay.” I grabbed my cardigan off the chair at the dining table. “The weather’s nice. I’ll walk.”
I had the two things needed for a long walk: good shoes and inner turmoil. Walking home would give me the chance to wear both out.
Besides, Macey owed me two dollars.
4
LANDON
Let the record show that I wasn’t a stalker.
I couldn’t help that I happened to run into Kira on this street last Sunday morning right before she went into the Community Connections Center. I also couldn’t help that the center was right down the street from the diner.
Sure, I technically did follow her down the street to the double glass doors of the center. But a real stalker would have followed her inside the building. Instead, I watched her go inside and then I left.
Unfortunately, that part of the argument was about to be moot, considering I was entering those same doors right now. But other than sliding into her DMs, this was the only way to talk to Kira. It might be pathetic—I probably was pathetic—but once I got it into my head that Kira might be unhappy, the thought wouldn’t leave me.
Fuck, was it a bad idea showing up like this? Josh had tried to convince me it was creepy, but I dismissed the idea. Now, entering the lobby, I worried he was right.
The sound of laughter and the lively chatter of kids greeted me. A large bulletin board above the front desk showcasedupcoming events, community programs, and cheerful artwork created by local children. The lobby was warm, with bright murals of Chicago’s skyline painted on the walls. Its high ceilings allowed natural light to flood the space through large windows, making me feel much smaller than I was.
A kind-looking woman approached me, clipboard in her hand. “How may I help you?”
She carried herself with the posture of someone who knew this place inside and out. If I had to guess, she either worked here full-time or she was a knowledgeable volunteer who started the position after retiring. Either way, she smiled at me with bright pink lips.
