“You know your therapist speak doesn’t work on me.” Though it does, kind of, and we both know it.
“Maybe yououghtto do some self-care, be nicer to yourself. Give yourself a break. Also, you need to parent yourself a little more. Maybe make healthier food choices, like less bacon.”
“I know your feelings on bacon.”
“I just think you should make more healthy choices.”
“I feel…” I glance at the vegan menu, suddenly craving bacon with my sweet potato fries. “Like eating more bacon.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Stella shakes her head, but she’s grinning, so I know there’s no hard feelings. Also, she already knows I’d make the worst patient on earth. She’s already told me that.
“Hey, mind if I interview you really quick for the column? I like the idea of delving more into this self-care stuff. That’s perfect forSolo February.”
Stella shakes her head slowly. “Self-care isn’t just for February. You should do it all year round!”
“And that, my friend, is going to be the headline.”
When I head back to my place, I take it slow on the icy Chicago sidewalks, as I meander through my eclectic neighborhood: half new condos, half old brownstones, all Chicago. The wind dies down, and the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, and suddenly it’s warmer than the usual February afternoon. Just your typical temperature swing in the Midwest: one second, it’s Antarctica. The next? Florida. The sun melts a little of the snow from the sidewalk, making the street gleam wet as if it’s just rained, and a few brown puddles pool at the intersections. I leap over them, thankful my ankle is nearly back to normal.
My phone pings with a message from Jack.
Hey, gorgeous.
Seeing that makes me feel all warm inside.
Hey yourself,I text back. It’s been only a few hours since he’s left my bed and he’s alreadychecking in? This seriously might be the man I marry.
Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.
I’m thinking about you, too. Naked in my bed.
I text it before I can stop myself.
Mmmmm. I like how you think.
Oh, boy, we’re on our way to a sexting session, and that’s not going to work for me here out on the sidewalk in Chicago. Abort!
Was just talking about you to my friend, Stella.
I hope good things?
ALL good things,I write and only feel slightly bad about the lie. Jack doesn’t need to know about Stella’s hesitations.
Maybe we could get together again?
I stop, dead still, and glare at my phone.
Also, I forgot to ask… today being THE holiday. Will you be my valentine?
I haven’t ever, in my entire life, had a man ask me to be his valentine. I don’t actually know what to say.
A car honks at me, and I jump, realizing that I’ve stopped in the middle of a crosswalk. I throw my hand up in an “I’m sorry” gesture and hurry across the street.
I’m not too far from Margo’s, I realize. What could it hurt if I just dropped by to say hi?
Fourteen
JACK
