“Tell me something,”Jacksaid as he found the perfect chip from the side of the pile. “Whathad you all riled up at the house?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”Ilied.Iknew damn well what he was talking about.Itwas just thatIdidn’t want to talk about it.
Not completely, anyway . . .
I didn’t feel like a failure.Iwasa failure.And, in some strange way, that made it easier to grasp the reality of the situation.Butmy pride was still hanging on for dear life, desperate to combat the idea that this was my new normal.
“What’d you say your name was, sweetheart?”Ernieasked as he slid two more baskets of loaded chicken cheesesteaks in front ofJackand me. “Sorry.Mymemory isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”
“Aurora,”Isaid with a smile.
There was an odd twinkle in his eye.SomethingIcouldn’t quite explain. “That’swhatIthought you said,”Erniesaid with a nod as he shuffled off to get our drinks.
“That was cryptic,”Isaid asImanhandled my sandwich out of the deli paper.
“Nice try.Youcan’t get out of this,”Jackmumbled as he hunched over the bar and wolfed down half of his sandwich in one bite.
I made it through three more bites before he gently elbowed me.
I took my time, wiping my hands with paper napkins and downing sweet tea thatIwas certain was going to give me a cavity.
I grimaced as the syrupy taste coated my mouth. “Issweet tea an acquired taste or something?”
Jack chuckled. “Iguess it is if you’re not from around here.”Herested his arms on the bar and clasped his hands together. “Youdoing alright?”
There was something about the way he said it that made me believe he actually cared and wasn’t trying to get into my pants.
“Is it the move and the house, or something else?”
“The house is fine,”Imuttered asIgrabbed a chip and aimlessly swirled it around in my dwindling cup of ranch. “It’sa piece of shit, but at least it gives me something to do.”
“Because you’reretired.”Hepunctuated that disgraceful word with air quotes.
“BecauseIwas forced into retirement,”Isaid.Therewas a sharp edge to my voice thatIdidn’t recognize as my own. “BecauseIwas blocked for so long thatIlost my book deal and had to pay back my advance to the publisher.Andthen my boyfriend, whoIwas living with, decided to break up with me after running up my credit cards.Andbecause everything in our shared lives was in my name,Igot stuck with rentIcouldn’t pay, a carIcouldn’t afford, and very, very limited income.”
Jack swore under his breath.
“So,Isold the nice car and bought the piece of shitIdrive now.Imoved back in with my mom.Whichsounds great on paper, except she flip-flops between freaking out over my well-being because she doesn’t understand thatI’ma whole adult, or being frustrated because she doesn’t understandme.”
He winced.
I decided to put the now-soggy chip out of its misery and let it drown in the dip. “Soyeah,Ihad a bad morning.BecausehereIam.Ipeaked at thirty-two, which meansIprobably have fifty or sixty years left where it’s all downhill.”
“Nah.Idon’t know about that.”Jackturned on his stool.Onefoot was braced on the support bar between the legs, and the other was flat on the floor.Hewas infuriatingly tall. “Idon’t think anyone ever actually peaks.”
“No,”Isaid asIstuffed a chip in my mouth. “Ipeaked.Iwrote one bestseller.Topof the charts, there was a book tour, talk show appearances—the whole shebang.Therewas even talk of a movie option.Andthen the hype settled, andIsat down at my computer andIcouldn’t write.Icouldn’t plot.Icouldn’t even come up with an elevator pitch.”Ilooked him dead in the eye. “Ichoked.Icouldn’t handle the pressure of having to follow it up.”
Jack rested his arm on top of the bar.Hisfingers grazed my wrist, gently stroking back and forth. “You’refromColorado, right?”
I nodded.
“You ever climbed any mountains?”
I scoffed. “DoIlook like the kind of woman who climbs mountains?I’moutside-y.Notoutdoorsy.”
His smile made the corners of his eyes wrinkle. “Haveyou ever watched videos of the people who climbEverest?”
I nodded.
