“Well," she sighs, "I’m about to spend a ton of money, and I don’t think that I can spare the expense. Something's gotta go, and since I need gas in my car, a phone for work, and a place to live, then I think I can give up my nails for a while,” she says somberly.
“I see.” I take a slow swallow of my orange juice. “What are you thinking about for dinner tonight?” I ignore the uncomfortable feeling at seeing her have to sacrifice anything, especially something that she takes pride in, like her appearance.
“I’d like to make a pot pie. Do you like pot pies?’ she questions, putting her fork down with several bites of her omelet left. So I help myself, slicing through her omelet from the other end easily. Noting her amused grin.
“I absolutely do,” I half laugh. Glad I'm not the only one who craves fall time foods in the summer.
Sarah rubs her arm nervously. “Ok, well, I’ll pop over to the store, grab some stuff, and I’ll make it tonight. But I gotta disappear for a couple hours,” she says, giving me a pretty smile as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.
My heart skips a beat.
“We’llpop over to the store. And what do you mean you have to disappear?” I ask, raising my brows as I place our forks into the skillet before turning to place it in the dishwater.
“I have to lock myself in the bathroom and do my hair.”
“Oh.”I can't help the disappointment in my tone. “Well, I’ll take that time and mow the backyard then.” I turn back to the sink, scrubbing the pan and rinsing it.
“You don’t have someone do your yard for you?" Sarah says with a slight frown. "That’s a pretty big backyard.”
“I enjoy taking care of my own home. And I like it mowed a certain way,” I reply absentmindedly, wiping my hands on a dishtowel.
"I hear you. On Fridays I get down on my hands and knees—” I flick my eyes to her suddenly, and she sucks in a surprised breath. “And I scrub the baseboards and clean at my practice,” she trails off, her lips twisting slightly as she tries to hide a smile.
God…
“Hmm-hm.” I grunt softly. “Well, I’m off to mow. Let me know when you are done with your hair, and we'll go to the store,” I say, giving her a look as I saunter out of the kitchen to go up to my bedroom to change to go work outside.
Ten minutes later I pop in my air pods and crank up the lawnmower, pausing momentarily to look up at her window. My blood rushes at the knowledge that the subject of my desire is just beyond the pane, undressed as she washes her hair. I shake my head and think about an hour ago and how perfectly I’d played my cello. Wishing it was her I could wrap my body around and play instead. But I'll just have to be patient.
Another one of my not so great qualities.
Chapter twenty-three
Friends
Icrackmyeyesopen on a low moan. Dimmed beams of light shine through a crack in the curtains, showing me it's the next morning. I eye the clock on the nightstand, seeing it's a quarterto seven. Turning my head, I see the other side of the bed empty, making a frown grace my lips as a pang of disappointment fills me that he's not lying next to me.
I feel so safe with him.
My eyes narrow as they settle on a note folded neatly on the pillow beside my head. Hurriedly sitting up, I lean back against the headboard, noticing I'm thankfully still fully clothed in my pajamas. I have a tendency to rip my clothes off in the middle of the night while I'm asleep.
Opening the note I smile, thinking he's so old-fashioned because he could have totally texted me this information, but there's something so intimate about knowing another's handwriting, and the fact it requires more effort and thought than beating out a quick text.
Sarah,
I wasn’t sure what you planned on doing for work and didn’t want to wake you to ask. I did set the alarm for seven a.m. just in case you needed to go into the office, though I’d prefer you didn’t, honestly. You need your rest to recover. However, I know what it’s like to have clients you can’t cancel on, and I just want to let you know I sympathize with you. How about we work on finding you a backup therapist to help shoulder some of your work load so you can take time off when you need to?
There’s coffee in the pot in the kitchen, or hot tea in an electric kettle, as well as a breakfast sandwich in the warmer downstairs. I also made you lunch; it’s in a glass container in the refrigerator. Your car keys are next to your purse by the door, and just in case you forgot, the code to lock the house if you leave is 070280.
Don’teven think about not coming back! You are supposed to stay here until you move into your apartment, so I’ll be expecting you for dinner. I’ll have it ready by 6 p.m.. Do you like salad enough to have it for a main meal?
AR
Out of all the things he wrote, his last sentence pierces me straight through the heart, leaving me flushed and feeling very considered. And I've not even gotten out of bed yet.
Folding the note carefully, I roll out of bed, ignoring my phone for the moment in favor of using the restroom. A few minutes later I pad back into the bedroom and grab my phone off the nightstand, hearing the soft melody of the alarm of the clock beginning to chime. Smiling, I turn it off, swiping my phone awake.
Pulling up my text app, I find Alex’s name under Dr. Richardson and click it.
