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Millie
Tess showed up insanely early for story time again, thank goodness. She’s helping me set up craft supplies and lending a listening ear while Hannah entertains Lily and Riley. After being home with two tiny humans all day every day, she needs someone to talk to almost as much as I need a listening ear.
“Sorry for ranting to you so much,” I say after telling her the multitude of reasons I am scared to admit that I love Jameson.
“It’s okay. Great, actually. If you only knew how often I have conversations about poop, you would know that this is like a mini vacation for me,” she says with a tense laugh. I turn from the table where I’m organizing crayons and colorful cotton poofs to get a good look at her.
She has bags under her eyes, and her hair is a frizzy mess. “Are you okay?” I ask, concerned for my friend.
“What? Yeah, I’m great. Look at those cute kids over there! I made them!” she says, pointing at her girls on the other side of the room. She has a dreamy look as she watches Lily run around while Riley’s head turns side to side, watching her. “Let’s get back to talking about you and Jameson, though.”
“What else is there to say? I’m crazy about him, but I don’t know if I can be what he wants. He’s ready to settle down and have a family, and I’m still terrified. And what about Lo? What happens to her if the two of us do get serious?”
“Listen, Millie. It’s okay to be scared. Most people are at least a little scared when they’re doing something new. But Jameson is a good man. I’ve known him since we were kids, and let me just say, they don’t make many like him. Don’t miss out on someone like him because of fear. I can say with complete confidence that he will handle your heart like it’s a piece of fine china given to him by the Queen of England herself.”
The rational side of me knows what she’s saying is true, but my heart is still palpitating thinking about it. Jameson is kind and honest and good. Everything that a sane woman would be chasing after.
It’s not his goodness that I doubt. I’ve seen enough of him to know for a fact that he’ll treat me right. But no one can guarantee that nothing will ever happen between us that could cause us to separate. No one can guarantee that we’ll both live until old age. My dad’s cancer proved to me that life is unpredictable and it’s best to guard yourself against it.
I’ve already been hurt too many times in the past: a mother who didn’t want me, friends who decided I wasn’t worth their time, a father who was healthy one day and then dying the next. I’m only twenty-six. How much more can I stand?
“I can see you overthinking everything,” Tess says.
“I am not…”
“Yes, you are. Don’t go do something drastic, okay? Just take it day by day, and see where it goes.” She rubs my arm in a comforting, motherly gesture. It must be something that women innately pick up after having children.
I nod my head and give her a quick hug as I notice families beginning to trickle into the room. Moms direct their children to sit on the rug in the center of the room as they take a seat in the chairs against the walls. I laugh as they breathe a sigh of relief that, for a short time, someone else is in charge of the rowdy crew. I love doing story time. It’s why I wanted to become a librarian.
“Alright, who wants to play with instruments?” I ask the kids and watch as all the caretakers collectively die a little inside.
It’s late at night, but I couldn’t get to sleep. Five million thoughts were playing on an endless loop in my mind, so I decided to get up and do a workout. That only made me more awake, though. So, here I am, at 2 AM, staring at my bedroom wall, thinking about the next twists and turns I want to write in my novel.
My heroine is being a little angsty at the moment, and I’m not sure how I’m going to resolve the issue. She has to come to her senses at some point. She kicked the poor guy to the curb, and she’s floating on that ‘I don’t need no man’ high because she’s angry. Rightfully so—our not-so-perfect-after-all hero has been keeping some pretty big secrets. She should give him a chance to explain himself, but she is so obstinate and headstrong that she’s making Jane Austen proud from her grave.
Just when I think I’m starting to figure something out with the plot, there’s a strange noise outside my window. It sounds like a ginormous animal is crawling around in some bushes. It better not be another skunk. Animal control said they took care of that thing. Do skunks travel in packs? I cannot go through that again. Hannah still sniffs me and laughs hysterically every time she sees me.
It sounds like a flower pot gets knocked over, and I jump out of my bed. I’m not crazy. Something—or someone—is definitely out there. I throw on a hoodie and slip on my sandals before exiting my room.
What am I going to do? I’m 5’0” and approximately 115 pounds. What if it’s the crazy person who has been stalking Jameson?
I grab my phone and call Jameson, but he doesn’t answer. What do I do? What do I do? I see the baseball bat that Jameson forgot over here on Thursday after his weekly baseball game. I roll my shoulders back, put on my brave face, and grab the bat.
Once I’m outside, I am feeling significantly less brave than I was ten seconds prior while standing safely in my living room. My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear it in my ears. I’m shaking like a leaf, and I think I might pee my pants. Is this how Jameson feels when he has to go arrest bad guys? How does he live like this?
I tiptoe to the edge of my front patio and peek around the corner of the house. There’s no one at my house, but I look across the yard in the direction of Jameson’s house and see a shadowy figure.
I hold my breath as I watch a man dressed in all black scurry around outside of Jameson’s house. I flatten myself against the wall to hide myself from the man’s view and try to call Jameson again, but he still doesn’t answer.
Peeking around the corner again, I see that the man has a backpack full of who knows what. For all I know, he’s planning to set off a bomb. I have to do something. I can’t just stand here and watch him hurt the man I love.
I raise the bat and take off in a run like a crazed lunatic ready to do battle. The problem with this tactic, I quickly realize, is that it is incredibly noisy. The man hears me and turns and points a gun right at me.
“Stop right now, or I’ll send a bullet through you,” he says in a low venomous voice. He’s angry, and I don’t know if it’s with me or Jameson. Or perhaps both.
“Jameson! Jameson, help!” I shout. The man steps closer, and I can see the barrel of the gun more clearly now. My entire body is shaking with fear. “What do you want? Do you need money? I’ll give you money. Just leave,” I beg.
“What I want is for you to shut your trap,” he growls. He starts pacing in front of me. I’m guessing he’s trying to figure out what to do about me. He probably wasn’t counting on a witness to whatever crime he’s got going down here. I slip my phone out of my pocket and dial 911 while he’s distracted trying to figure out a plan for me. I refuse to be kidnapped without a fight. Lo’s spending the night with Amy. She wouldn’t even know what happened to me.
