For the next hour, I spill my guts to Shari,to my friend. I tell her everything—my mom dying during childbirth, the safe house with Ben, being stalked, where I’m living, and I finally get to today—“So now I’m not sure if they still want to hire me, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if they don’t.” Ben’s refused to let me pay rent. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know who to pay or how I’d pay them—but that can’t last forever.
“Wow, okay. That’s a lot.” She laughs quietly. “First, they’re going to hire you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, because when Willa called to check your references, I told her you were the best there was, and even though you were let go, we’re going to have to find two people to replace you. Itold her she’d be crazy not to hire you, so I suspect she’ll be calling very soon.”
I get up so fast that Joan Wick hisses at me. “Wow. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for telling the truth. Now, about this man of yours.”
“He’s not my man.”
“Part of being a good friend is telling your friend when she’s being stupid. And right now, girl, you’re being stupid. Aside from him dropping everything to deal with your stalker, that man packed up your shit and moved you into the apartment across the street from his. It can’t get much more obvious than that.”
I start pacing. “He cares about me, I know that.”
“Yeah, and I promise you if he had his way, he’d have just moved you straight into his place. The only reason he didn’t is because he thought you’d need space.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. Did he not come over and kiss you silly this morning?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
She cuts me off. “But nothing. What are you so scared of? You trust this guy and you went to him for help. He clearly cares about youa lot. You might be in denial about it because you’re protecting yourself from getting hurt, but you know it’s true. And you care about him, too, don’t you?”
“Yeah, so much.”
“I think it’s time you show him that, Annie. Stop for a second and actuallyseewhat’s in front of you. Look at where you are right now. Maybe you’ll finally understand that words don’t have to be spoken for someone to tell you how they feel.”
Awareness brings me to a halt as I open my eyes. The pull-out that I used to use for a bed is folded up like an actual couch because I have a real bed now. I look up at the loft, which has anew mattress and new bedding. I know because I saw the tags in the trash can.
My bookshelf, the cat tree, and the bistro table I had crammed in the corner of my kitchenette now sit in the middle of a spacious kitchen.
It feels like I’m home because I’m surrounded by everything I own, and I’m realizing that was intentional. He didn’t want me to wake up somewhere unfamiliar. He knows how uncomfortable I felt in the safe house.
He knows I needed a minute to come to terms with everything.
He knows I needed that space, but he also knows I needed him, so he kept his distance while also reminding me he was close…he is close. But right now, he’s too far away, and I need to change that.
Laconic: using or involving the use of a minimum of words: concise to the point of seeming rude or mysterious.
I pull on my faded jeans as I look at the word of the day and realize I really don’t have to say a lot to tell Ben how I feel. And I’m going to, right now, before I chicken out.
I change my shirt four times before settling on a plain black fitted T-shirt that leaves a half inch of skin exposed. I dab my lips with a tissue, then inch back to look in the full-length mirror, expecting to feel more confident in what I thought was going to be a sexy makeup look. After about four seconds, I realize how wrong I am. “It’s too much. Isn’t it too much, Joan?”
She purrs and rubs against my leg.
“You’re right, it looks slutty.” I use a makeup wipe to remove the thick eyeliner and rub off my lipstick.
I toss the dirty wipe in the trash and take another look at my reflection. Ben kissed me when I hadn’t even brushed my teeth this morning, but this is definitely a step up. I’m still the usual plain Jane I’ve always been. Passably pretty with makeup, but not drop-dead gorgeous or beautiful. I’m not insecure about my looks, but I am realistic.
Satisfied with my appearance, I hold my head high and say goodbye to Joan. “Wish me luck.”
The smell of coffee from downstairs wafts into my apartment when I open my door. I slide my key in and turn the locks, tuck my keys in my purse, then walk to the crosswalk. My nerves tempt me to turn around, but that was theoldme. “He likes you. He kissed you,” I tell myself under my breath, then continue across the street, hyping myself up still. “Today’s the start of your new life. You’re confident now.”
Entering Bar Someday, I hold my head high and beeline it through the crowd to the bar. One spot is open, smack dab in the middle of the stools, so that’s where I sit. “Hey.” The super pretty bartender slides a coaster my way and raises her voice. “What can I get ya?”
