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He nods. “I’d heard good things. I’m glad it worked out.”
“It did.” I wish he would give a little more. Soften up. Warm up. Show something other than the professional mask.
But that’s silly and selfish. This is a job to him. I’m a job. He’s always made that clear.
And that’s all I’m supposed to be.
“So anyway,” I say with another loud, ragged inhale, “I’m sorry for everything. And thank you. I hope your job this time will be a lot easier.”
“Whatever the job is, I’ll do it.”
Well. Okay. That’s… something.
“I know you’ve made a good life for yourself here,” Caleb says, glancing around at the small, pretty room. “We won’t get in the way of that. We’ll keep you safe for as long as necessary, and then you’ll be free of us again.”
“O-okay.” I have no idea how to respond to what he said. It sounds like he’s trying to make me feel better, but it only makes me feel weirder. More resistant.
I ignore the feelings. They don’t matter. None of my awkwardness and embarrassment matter.
They’re all part of a past that I’ve moved on from.
I’ve been doing better, and I can keep doing better.
And I’m not going to let these weird feelings for Caleb pull me back into the person I used to be.
The person I never want to be again.
2
Several years ago,my days didn’t begin until well after noon.
I’d wake up around one or two in the afternoon and lie around for a couple of hours until I managed to make it out of my apartment. I’d go to my flashy health club for massages, skin treatments, and occasional exercise. Then I’d get together with friends to shop or visit the salon. Afterward, I’d return home and take it easy until it was time to get dressed to go out and party all night.
Sometimes I’d travel, and occasionally my dad or cousins would talk me into sponsoring some sort of pretentious charity event. But for the most part, my days were empty and self-serving.
I wasn’t happy. I can’t remember ever really feeling at peace in my own skin back then. I was always chasing one high after another—a drink, a pill, a man, a certain kind of attention. And even when I got it, it was never what I’d thought it would be.
It’s all a hackneyed cliché. I can see it now. Anyone could have predicted the spiral of my life, and anyone could have told me how to start changing it.
But it took me four years to figure out.
At rehab, they focused a lot on cultivating a healthy routine with my days rather than allowing them to remain empty. I’m still holding on to those habits. When I get up at eight the morning after my cousin’s visit, it feels like I’ve slept in.
I’m actually surprised I slept so late since I usually wake up closer to seven. I’d have thought I’d be restless and anxious from having a bodyguard on duty right outside the house all night, but Trey, the friendly freckled guy who is going to be on duty in late afternoons and evenings, is so laid-back and unassuming that he didn’t bother me the way Caleb’s stern presence would have.
When I told Caleb yesterday that most of my activities outside the house occur in the mornings and early afternoons, he decided he would work that shift. Trey would take the four-to-midnight shift, and Mick, the other guard in the rotation, would cover midnight to eight.
I lie in bed for a moment, listening to a muffled murmur of voices from outside. I can’t hear any words, but I know one of those voices belongs to Caleb.
Shift change. Caleb is here to relieve Trey.
The idea of Caleb lurking outside somewhere propels me out of bed. I pull on a soft, fuzzy robe over my tank and pajama pants, make a quick stop in the bathroom, and then head to the kitchen to make coffee.
While I wait for it to brew, I check my hair and face in the hallway bathroom. My hair is smooth and perfectly straight. I’ve got a few flyaways, but they settle neatly when I smooth them with my hands. My face is clean and slightly flushed. My brown eyes are a little too big for classic symmetry, but my lashes are so thick and dark that my second-grade teacher once made a fuss because she was convinced I was wearing eye makeup. My nose is small and straight. My lips are wide, and my teeth are perfect after years of orthodontic work and the best whitening treatments available.
I’m tall with a slim build and long limbs. My friends used to grumble that I could eat whatever I want and never gain weight. In fact, I used to be seriously underweight because I ate sporadically and unhealthily and drank way too much.
I’m used to looking good. Everyone has always said I’m beautiful. But the truth is it’s only in the past couple of years that I’ve actually liked the image I see in the mirror.
