“There’s security.” I wanted to believe it was enough. Moving locations, falling into anonymity as one of the millions in the city would give me some measure of security. Plus, I had a restraining order.
“You should take a leave of absence,” Mama said, still fretting. “Your safety’s too important to risk, Ida Jane!”
“I met someone,” I said, mainly because I couldn’t talk more about Dillon. I smiled at my driver as I exited the vehicle, glad to be back in the relative safety of Millie’s condo. I headed inside the lobby doors quickly. Old Mrs. Gordon sat in her normal chair right by the doors.
“You’re not even wearing stockings. What kind of lady goes out with bare legs? Ahussy.”
I rolled my eyes even as I offered a tight smile. Mrs. Gordon loved the 1950s—everything since was…
“Such a travesty, what’s happening with the world today,” she said, right on cue.
“Who’s that?” Mama asked.
“A neighbor.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about stockings and the country’s shortcomings right now. I want to hear more about this young man you’ve met and to make sure you’re safe and got a plan to stay safe.”
“I am, Mama.” I paused, but she’d calm down if I shared the next bit. “He said I could stay with him for a little bit. He’s got a nice house and a good security system.”
“Hmmm. When did y’all meet? What does he look like? What does he do?”
“Is he a criminal?” Mrs. Gordon asked.
I laughed. “Not a criminal.”
“Steer clear of those men, Ms. Barlow. Criminals love you and leave you,” Mrs. Gordon warbled. “Such a travesty.”
“She’s got that right,” Mama said.
“He’s a hockey player,” I said. I chose not to tell Mama I’d only met him last week—no reason for her to worry more than she already was. “I like his eyes. They’re this pale blue…” I shivered, remembering the feel of Maxim’s gaze as it drifted over my skin. It had been electric. Like a physical touch.
I pressed the button to the elevator. It opened immediately, and I headed up to my floor.
“Hockey. That’s different, but you know your daddy likes sports. I’m sure he can fit in a few more games a week,” she said, her voice dry.
“I…like him.”
“I should hope so, especially if y’all are thinking of living together, even if it’s just as roommates.”
I shuffled into the apartment, making sure to lock the deadbolt and put on the chain—just as I had all week. “He’s moving faster than I am.”
“Ah.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means you’re dragging your feet because you’re worried about whether you have impaired judgment after dating that…that dufus.”
Millie had said something similar on Friday.
“I don’t know, Mama. I mean, I need to besure.”
“My lovely girl, there’s no such thing as sure in life. If you love him and he loves you, if you respect him and he respects you, then you’re better off than most.”
Mama just added more thoughts to my swirl. After we hung up, I texted Maxim good luck in his game. I watched it, more excited than I’d ever been at my brother’s games. I cheered and danced when the Wildcatters scored.
I texted Maxim great game and fell asleep, clutching my phone…not because I wanted him to text me back…
Or because I was terrified Dillon would show up in the middle of the night.
