“Do you like Billie?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Then make your appointments whenever you can with Billie and we’ll work it out. How often do you go?”
“Once a week. Twice if I push myself just this side of too-hard.”
“What happens if you cross to the other side of too-hard?”
“Last time, I was stuck in bed for three days.”
My curiosity is killing me, but I don’t want to overstep. We finally make it to the front of the line and place our drink orders. I add sugar and cream to my cup and stand with her as she waits for her drink.
“I got hit by a car a while ago, and it messed my leg up,” she says quietly.
“Shit. Should you be walking and standing so much?” My heart thuds wildly in my chest, worried she’s in pain.
“It’s fine, Alex. I can’t do multiple flights of stairs very well, so hopefully the elevator doesn’t break down anytime soon. Most of my heel collection is gathering dust at the moment, which is tragic.” The barista calls out her drink and she takes it with a sweet, “Thank you.”
I can tell she’s not telling me something. And it’s probably none of my fucking business, but I can’t stop myself from needing to know. We step outside, but I grab her arm gently and move off to the side of the walkway. “What else, Amelia?”
She tilts her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“That car. What did it take from you?”
She’s silent for a minute before answering. “Dancing. I started in preschool and, well, it was my whole future before the accident. I still love it, but I’ll never be able to dance like I did before. And please, don’t say you’re sorry, Alex. I know people mean well with that, but?—”
I reach out, taking her free hand in mine.
“I promise I won’t say it. Ever.”
She nods softly, and we stand there for too long with our hands touching, but not long enough. Reluctantly, I release her, and we return to work.
It’s only her first day, but I already know my life is better with her in it.
Chapter 3
I refuse to do the Dougie
February
Amelia
Cramps and brain freeze are a bitch of a combination. My mint chocolate milkshake is already gone, and I’m only halfway through my lunch break.
I look longingly down the hall at the little bistro tables and chairs on the balcony outside, covered in a light layer of snow.
Stupid snow.
Stupid winter.
Stupid February in New York.
I miss sitting outside for lunch. Alex even joined me more often than not. But then it got too cold and he begged me to stay inside until spring. The man was worried I’d turn into an icicle and said he would be lost without me.
That second part is a pretty accurate statement. It wasn’t my intention to become invaluable to him. I just wanted to make his life easier. It’s been my main focus for the last six months. It’s literally my job as his personal assistant, and I’m damn good at it. That eldest daughter, people pleaser shit pays off sometimes, I guess.
This job was supposed to be temporary while I picked up the pieces of my life.
