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Guilt hits me square in the chest, hearing her words. I usually face my life with a lone-wolf type of attitude, but Cheryl has always been there for me. After all my prayers to find a forever home, Cheryl was my saving grace. She was always there for me to vent to about Michael or to ask for advice. She was the mom I never had. I’ll never be able to thank her for all that she did for me…and I don’t know that I’ve ever tried.
“Hey, Cheryl,” I begin. “Thank you for always being there for me. You’ve been amazing ever since I met you.”
“Honey, as I said, the moment I saw you, I felt like God brought you to me for a reason. At that moment, you became one of my own.”
Tears fight to make their way out of my eyes, but I try my hardest to hold them in. I don’t need runny mascara right now.
She takes note of the silence and tries to lighten the mood. “And now that you’ve moved, I expect that you will come to see me more often. Tennessee is a hell of a lot closer to Chicago than California was.”
I laugh away the threatening tears. “Okay, deal.”
We talk for a few more minutes. She tells me about how she’s trying to find new hobbies. She’s trying knitting, but it ‘makes her feel old.’ Her words, not mine. She’s a trip.
Soon, we are saying our goodbyes and hanging up.
When the phone is off, I lean back in the chair and think about what she just said.
If my dead husband’s mother doesn’t have an issue with me moving on, why am I so hard on myself? Hell, Michael moved on while we were still together. Why is this so hard for me? Why do I have to be so damn guarded?
Jonas has been nothing but wonderful to me, and all I’ve done has been acting like Negative Nancy.
A man who is fucking amazing to look at, sweet as hell, and dynamite in the sack. A man who actuallywantsme, and I’m coming up with every excuse of why this is a bad idea. But I’ve never stopped to think about how wonderful it might be.
How wonderful it might be to have a man to continuously show me I’m loved.
But as much as I would like to sit around all day and fantasize about how I could possibly have a perfect life, I’m far too much of a realist for that. There’s no such thing as the perfect life. Something always goes wrong.
Always.
Listen to me. I sound ridiculous. I’ve been seeing this guy for a few days, and I’m acting like it’s life or death. Why can’t I ever just go with the flow and have some fun?
I rub my temples in an attempt to get some clarity, but it doesn’t work.
“Hey baby, you okay?” Jonas asks, startling me.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear him come in. That or he is just as stealthy as a ninja.
“Hey you,” I say with a smile. Funny how just the thought of this man brings a smile to my face when I was just on the brink of a mental breakdown.
That has to mean something, right?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reassure. “Just a little bit of a headache.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He starts walking toward me. “How about we get out of here, and I’ll make you forget all about that headache once we get home?”
His words ignite every dirty thought that I have.
“Let’s go, cowboy,” I say, not wanting to waste another moment.
He reaches for my hand, and I take it as he helps me up.
Walking back to the house, he never lets go, and it just feels so right.
As we get closer to the house, something catches my eye.
Something in my driveway.
A moving truck.
