“Oh, Carson will be there?”she jokes, laughing at my expense.
“As awesome as my son is, that was cruel and unnecessary,” I scold her.“I’m afraid you’ll have to content yourself with me.”
I stand up, needing to stretch the cramped muscles in my legs.
“I guess I can manage a meal with you for company,” she teases, and I’m glad to see a bit of a sparkle back in her expressive eyes.“As you said, a girl has to eat.”
“Good.Six, be ready.”
She throws me a mock salute and starts her car.I close her door and step back, as she pulls out of the parking spot and drives off.
When I get behind the wheel of my truck a few moments later, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror.
I’m smiling.
Chapter4
Bess
A quick glanceat the clock shows it’s too late for me to cancel now.
I’d planned to, even as I drove away after saying yes to dinner with Hugo.I wasn’t going to go through with it, but Strange Brew was packed when I walked in after filling my prescription in town.I was busy all afternoon and I didn’t lock the doors until a few minutes before five.Then I had the kitchen to clean up and get ready for tomorrow morning, and I only just now got up to my apartment.
It’s twenty to six.I barely have time to rinse off and throw on some clean clothes.Dry shampoo will have to fix my hair, washing it will have to wait for tomorrow night.
I keep telling myself it’s just dinner; he reminded me often enough we’re just friends, and it’s not like we’ve never shared a meal before.So then, why does the thought of sitting across from him at the swanky new restaurant in town have butterflies swarming my stomach?
It feels like a date, that’s why.I’m pretty sure it was the comment about my boobs that put that thought in my head.I’m probably reading way more into that than I should.Hugo’s a guy, guys joke about boobs, it’s genetically imprinted, like scratching their balls when they think no one is looking, or sniff-testing their clothes to determine their cleanliness.Some may come off a little more polished than others, but ultimately, they are all the same underneath.
Still…
I rip the shower cap off my head and quickly towel dry my body, before I duck into my closet for clothes to wear.One perk of having only three minutes left is there is no time to agonize over what to wear.I grab the first thing I see, which is the cobalt-blue wraparound sweater Savvy gave me for Christmas that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet.I hope it’ll look okay with my go-to pair of black wide-legged pants I wear any time my jeans aren’t fancy enough.
I get dressed, going on faith alone, since there’s no time to check my reflection.Then I give my hair a quick upside-down spray of dry shampoo to fluff it up.The knock on my outside door comes as I’m blindly wiping some gloss on my lips.
Instantly panic sets in.
What the hell was I thinking?
This is not a good idea and it won’t end well.
For me.
A few weeks ago, I felt in full control of my life.Everything was where it belonged—either buried deep or kept at a safe distance—and I knew my place in this world.
Somehow, between then and now, the wheels have come off and my life is spinning off course in every which direction.And right now, I stand to lose more than just my control.
This time the knock on my door is a bit firmer, and I briefly wonder if I can pretend I’m not here, but then I hear Hugo’s voice.
“I know you’re in there, Bess.Open the door.”
Busted.
“Hold your horses,” I snap defensively.“I’ll be right there.”
I slip my small cross-body bag over my head and stuff in my phone.Then I grab my duffel coat and my keys, and open the door.
Dammit.
