“Well,” she finally says, “I’m happy to help.” Then she leans in, wraps her skinny arms around my own, and squeezes. After a second, I hug her back. It’s kind of nice. “Oh!” Claire jumps back and skips—literally, sheskips—toward the front desk. “I almost forgot, this came for you today.”
She pulls open a drawer, grabs a small, rectangular card, then hands it to me. It’s a postcard. I know who it’s from before I even start reading the familiar cursive handwriting.
Hey, Bitch!
Sounds like a rad ass town! Other than the occasional farm, super nice people, and lack of anything resembling a mall, of course. But hey, that leaves you, which is reason enough for me to wish I was there! I miss you, lady. Been trying out this new lemon juice fad and without my bestie, I don’t even have anyone to make fun of me over it. I tried using Daniel as a temporary Lou replacement, but you can imagine how that went over. He wouldn’t even wear your signature perfume for me! Major party pooper, that one.
Speaking of parties and poop, I feel like I need to rub in your face that the kids and I partied hard without you for New Years. I’m talking breast milk shots, poopie diapers, and temper tantrums galore, so, yeah. Bet you’re feeling pretty disappointed about your early midlife crisis now, aren’t you?
P.S. You’re beautiful. (I still hate you for leaving, though.)
xx
I can’t help but laugh. God, I miss you, Jamie. Probably my one regret about moving. When I look up, Claire’s tied up on a phone call. I tap the desk to get her attention, give her a wave, and head for the door.
Just as my hand reaches the handle, the door whips open, sending a blast of cold air over my face and through my hair. A guy walks in, pulling the door shut behind him as he glances between me and Claire, who still has the phone to her ear as she jots something down on a notepad. He returns his attention to me, a slow, deliberate smile lifting one side of his lips.
Wait, I know him. His blonde, buzzed hair, those light brown eyes that zero in on my curves. He’s that waiter who flirted with another server on the night Bobby took me out. Dylan, I think.
I don’t know if he recognizes me, but he doesn’t refrain from letting his gaze rake me over. It feels sleazy, sinking into my skin. All the soap in Ashwick can’t rid a girl of a look that dirty. I narrow my eyes, wishing looks could kill when he finally makes it back to my face.
“Dylan!” Claire’s cheery voice snaps him out of it. She sounds both pleased and baffled. “What are you doing here?”
He strolls over to her. It’s a lazy, arrogant walk. “Hey, baby.”
Baby? He leans across the desk and presses his lips right onto Claire’s. Perhapspressingis too mild a word—this guy’s practically eating her face. After a few seconds, she breaks away and shoves his shoulder playfully before glancing over at me, her face flushed.
Please don’t tell me you’re with that guy, Claire.
She clears her throat. “Lou, this is my boyfriend, Dylan.” Her eyes warm as she gazes at him. “Dylan, this is Lou.”
“Ah, the infamous Lou,” he says with a smirk.
I’m grateful I’m still standing near the door, too far away to be expected to shake his hand. I do not want this guy’s hand anywhere near me.
At my silence, he raises an eyebrow. “Not gonna ask how you’re infamous?”
“Nope.” I glance back at Claire, whose eyes plead with me.Give him a chance, they say.Please, for me. The fact she even feels the need to plead with me this early upon introductions tells me that somewhere, hopefully not buried too deep down, she knows he’s a douche.
My attention darts to the clock ticking away behind her. I need to leave. And I don’t want to hurt Claire.
Finally, I turn back to Dylan. “Good to meet you,” I offer, trying my best to sound sincere, “but I really need to get going.”
“Hey, Lou,” Claire shouts as I shove the door open. “Happy New Year!”
I smile over my shoulder. It’s a genuine, full-hearted smile. “Thanks. Happy New Year to you, too.”
I inhale the cold air as I walk, enjoying the quiet streets around me. I haven’t quite sorted out my many conflicted emotions yet, and I get the feeling it may be a while before I do, but sometimes it helps to focus more on the things right in front of you.
Of course, there’s still a hole in my heart; a gaping, burning void that had settled in uncomfortably the morning I found Grams’s lifeless body. It’s carved right in between the one I was born with from Mom being taken from this world, and the one Dad dug himself when he chose to follow her. But little by little, there’s a new light building in there, too. A warmth that gives me hope. It’s in the little things like Happy New Year wishes and a winter’s breeze, and it’s in the power of a friendly smile from Claire and a signature ‘Hey, Bitch!’ from Jamie.
I’m aware I’ve got a long way to go before I figure out my new normal, though—whatever that word means, anyway.
How can I even begin to scale ‘normal’, when I spent my morning conversing with a man who goes by Death?
Shaking my head, I listen to the gentle thump of my boots hitting concrete as I walk.Conversinghas to be the biggest understatement ever. I don’t understand the way he makes me feel. How someone I don’t even know could have such an effect on me. When he’s near, it’s like something else takes over entirely. It’s a warm oil being slowly, lazily, drizzled down my neck, spine, and thighs before it’s set on fire—a blazing, all-consuming, give-me-more kind of fire.
And I don’t know what to do with it. Then again, I guess nothingcanbe done, so I should just stop thinking about him altogether until I know what’s going on.
