“Okay.” Rick relaxed against the back of the recliner again. “Just be aware that we cut you a lot of slack when it came to your shitty attitude after she left.”
“I know you did, and I appreciate it.”
“You’re going back in with your eyes wide open, so if you start that shit again, you’ll have your ass handed to you.”
“Understood.” He didn’t want to go back down that road any more than they wanted him to. “I just need to think with my head and not with my heart. Or my dick.”
Rick laughed. “Jesus. You are so screwed.”
Chapter Five
“Ohmigod, Wren! That is the worst!”
It was the third—and hopefully last—time she’d heard that since arriving at the salon. She was thankful they didn’t open until ten each morning because she’d had a rough night of tossing and turning on Cait’s couch. Her thoughts had bounced between how she was going to put her life back together and how she felt about Grant being back in it.
“Do you need anything? Like... I don’t know. Anything?”
“Thanks, Kelli. I’ll be okay, though.”
She wouldn’t say the women were her friends. She’d focused too much on just keeping her head down and doing her job to let that happen. But the owner and senior stylist, Sadie, along with stylist Kelli and Barb, the nail tech, were friendly enough and they were definitely distraught about the fire. But Wren was thankful when clients started showing up and distracted them so she could sit behind the reception desk and focus on the phone and appointment book.
Yesterday, while shopping with Grant, she’d bought a couple pair of black leggings with three tops and a pair of cheap ballet flats. She only worked three mornings a week at the salon, so those would get her through for a while. She’d also bought some jeans and casual shirts for her job at the market. Throwing in a winter coat had made her wince at the total cost, but it was February. She couldn’t go without a coat.
Answering the phone and greeting clients were her primary job, so Wren had to drink a lot more water than usual to keep her scratchy throat from getting so dry she couldn’t talk. Luckily, if she was fairly still and calm, she wasn’t coughing as much.
During the downtime at the desk, she poked around online, looking at listings for apartments she couldn’t afford. Some young women were looking for a roommate, but they were very young women and living with three college girls was pretty low on the list of options, as far as Wren was concerned. A better option than couch surfing or living in another apartment like the last one, but she liked quiet and she was afraid, even though she wasn’t that much older, she’d become the house mom.
But most importantly, there was Ben to consider. Maybe he wasn’t the problem she’d built him up to be, but she was leery to introduce three young women into the mix.
She might be able to find cheaper options outside the city. She could take the T to work and... Sighing, Wren closed the browser and leaned back in her chair. As much as she liked the couple who owned the market, neither of her jobs merited a commute into the city. If she couldn’t afford to stay in Boston, she needed to move out of Boston. It was that simple.
Except it wasn’t that simple. She loved Boston. Out of all the places she could have gone, she’d chosen to make Boston her home and she didn’t want to leave it. And she didn’t want to leave Grant.
No matter how awkward things might be, and whether or not he ever forgave her for leaving him the way she did, she didn’t want to move away from him.
At two o’clock, she handed the desk over to the full-time receptionist and, after promising the women yet again she’d let them know if she needed anything, she switched the ballet flats for the sneakers in her bag and after wrapping the scarf Cait had lent her around her face to protect her lungs from the cold air, went outside.
Boots. She really needed boots. Grant had offered to buy her a pair, but she’d insisted the sneakers would be fine. And they would be if it wasn’t unusually cold this week. She’d have to get a pair before snow showed up in the forecast again, but it was important to her not to take Grant’s money.
She was halfway to where she’d parked her car when her cell phone rang. She’d had the inexpensive prepaid model less than twenty-four hours, so only a few people had the number.
Instead of the dread she’d felt ever since Ben had called, she thought of Grant, and she smiled when she saw his number on the screen and nudged the scarf down just a hair. “Hello?”
“Hey, you busy?”
“I just got out of work and I’m on my way back to my car.”
“We’ve been invited to dinner at Patty’s house this evening. You remember her, right? Cait’s mom?”
We. They weren’t really a we anymore. “I remember her.”
“I know Cait already spoke to you about her old bedroom and—”
She cut him off. “And I told Cait it wasn’t a good idea. It’s still not. I don’t want to drag anybody else into this, Grant. Can’t you understand that?”
“Nobody’s getting dragged into anything. Gavin and Cait filled Patty and Carter in on your situation and they’re both on board.”
She hated that everybody was talking about her business, but it wasn’t as though it was idle gossip. They wanted to help her and it was time to let them in. Trying to go it on her own had cost her everything.
