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I shook my head on the pillow. Frustration filled me and I wasn’t sure how to even explain how I felt about her. “You’re different than anyone I’ve met before, Hazel. You’re so unapologetically you that you make it impossible not to care about you. The thing is, I know that caring too much will result in a broken heart, so I have to roll this line I drew in my own mind so I don’t come off as a jerk but also, so I don’t come off as clingy.”
“Are you coming at it from the angle that I’ll eventually leave?”
I pointed at her with a nod. “That. Everyone else has.”
“I’m not everyone else,” she said, as though that should be obvious.
“No, you certainly aren’t,” I agreed with a laugh that held more frustration than mirth.
She settled into the bed deeper and pulled the blanket over her shoulder before retaking my wrist and waiting for me to grasp her forearm. “Here’s the way I look at it, Irving. When we protect our hearts to feel safe, we accomplish that goal, but in the end, we don’t feel safe as much as we feel lonely. In theory, if we don’t put too much of ourselves out there, we don’t get hurt when a relationship falls apart, right?” she asked, and I nodded. “In practice, that’s never the case. Usually, the relationship fails because we hold too much of ourselves back. We end up hurt and feel that void the other person left anyway. That tells me that holding back our hearts doesn’t keep us from being hurt. It blocks us from having intimate, open, quality relationships with people as friends and as lovers.”
“It’s better to have loved and lost,” I said and she nodded, her long red hair brushing against the pillow.
“Than never to have loved at all,” she agreed. “I’m not asking you to give more to this relationship than you’re comfortable giving, but I will be giving everything I have to our relationship. I want you to see, hear, taste, and touch that someone will keep coming back, no matter how many times you push them away.”
“Our relationship?” I asked in confusion. “Work relationship?”
“Work, friendship, or something more. I can’t define it right now, and that’s okay. All I know is, I’m in it for the long haul, so you better get used to this face.”
She pointed at her face with a wink, and I smiled. “You won’t get an argument from me, Hazel, but I don’t know how much I can—”
Her finger came down on my lips, and she shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t justify why you feel something or don’t feel something. Don’t try to lay out parameters for our relationship. Just give it time to unfold and show its true self. At some point, it will. Maybe it will be a working relationship only. Maybe we’ll have an epic friendship. Maybe we’ll have an epic love story, but whatever the case, don’t stunt it here tonight by saying something neither of us can forget.”
“That’s fair,” I whispered once she moved her finger to my cheek to caress it. I was so tired that her skin against mine was relaxing me and I could hardly keep my eyes open.
“Sleep now, Irving. I’ll be here when you wake up and every day after that.”
I closed my eyes and imagined how it would feel to have her hands caressing the rest of me like a lover would. The scary part was I could imagine it. I hadn’t allowed myself to do that for years. Was there a chance that we could be more than friends? Was there a chance we could have an epic love story? As I drifted to sleep feeling loved for the first time in too many years, I understood that the chance rested squarely on my shoulders.
Chapter Nine
The diner was quiet when I entered at barely five a.m., but the scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee filled my senses. Though I couldn’t drink it, I still loved how the smell made me feel inside—especially mixed with baked goods. It reminded me of Saturday mornings at home when my parents didn’t have to work, so they made a big breakfast for us to share. There was so much nostalgia in the smell of coffee that it was a shame I couldn’t drink it. Especially today when I needed a jolt to my soul.
The sleep-out event was tomorrow night, and we had all agreed to meet here for the final meeting before Friday. When they suggested meeting here for breakfast, how could I turn them down? Irving would have come, but I convinced him to stay home and catch some extra Zs. When I climbed out of his bed at four-thirty, he’d stirred, but I encouraged him to go back to sleep after I put Star out. I had slept in his bed every night since he’d hurt his hand, strictly platonic, of course, but after a few days, I noticed he was more relaxed at work, and with me.
Over the last week, he smiled nonstop and even laughed as I sang Christmas carols around the building. The Grinch hadn’t joined in yet, but my goal was to convince him to sing one song before the holidays ended. I hoped he would be a completely different Irving than the one I’d met in September once he'd soaked up enough of my nonjudgmental care and tenderness. Don’t get me wrong, I love who he is, but he’d lost his ability to love—to truly commit to loving someone wholly—no matter the consequences. I desperately wanted to give that back to him.
He was making great strides just by me sharing a bed with him. By showing him that he wasn’t alone, he’s starting to take better care of himself. When he got an infection and an embedded stitch in the wound, he asked me to take him to the clinic to address it. After a round of antibiotics and removal of the one stitch, it has slowly healed up, so we’re hoping they’ll take the rest of the stitches out at his next appointment on Friday morning. Will I go back to my apartment to sleep once that happens? I wish I could answer that. I tipped my head for a moment as I unwound my scarf from my neck. If I was truthful with myself, I could answer that question already. I wanted to stay in his bed, wrapped up in his arms come the morning light with his head against mine. The last ten nights had shown me that Irving wasn’t the only one who needed to learn how to risk their whole heart again.
“Ivy?” I called, taking my gloves and hat off. It was below freezing this morning and I could smell the snow in the air. We’d get some before Friday, but not enough to cancel the event. Just enough to prove our point about the need for housing for everyone.
“I’ll be right out!” Ivy called from the kitchen.
I was the first to arrive, so I grabbed a booth and slid into it, hanging my coat on the hook by the bench. I was barely settled when the door opened and a whoosh of cold air ushered in a gaggle of giggling girls. This booth wasn’t going to be big enough, so I scooted in as close as I could as Heather, Mrs. Violet, Addie, Mel, Becca, and Indigo tromped in, shedding layers of clothing as they did so. They all hung their coats on the coat tree and greeted me with broad smiles and open arms.
“Good morning,” I said, leaving the booth to accept hugs from Mrs. Violet, who had, of course, gotten in line first.
“Good morning, gorgeous. It’s going to snow!” She was as exuberant as a little kid watching the sky for the first flakes and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“That’s what I heard too,” I agreed. “Maybe it will flock the tree just so for the tree lighting next week.”
I hugged the rest of the girls as Ivy bustled in from the kitchen and slid a pan of cinnamon rolls across the counter so she could get in on the hugging. Then she shooed us into the booth, which we did, three deep, and that still left Ivy and Mrs. Violet to grab chairs. Ivy passed out coffee, tea, and rolls than sat down to join us.
“Where are your companions?” Mrs. Violet asked between sips of coffee. “Isn’t Irving part of the team?”
“He is,” I agreed, “but I convinced him to stay in bed this morning. I let Star out and told him to get a few extra hours. His hand isn’t healing well and we’ve been burning the candle on both ends to get this event ready all while doing our other work.”
“Wait, you were in his apartment this morning?” Heather asked with a sly smile.
