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“Fifteen seventy-five.”
I grab a twenty out of my wallet and hand it to him. “Keep the change.” I’m so embarrassed I was caught fantasizing that all I want is to get out of this car as fast as possible, which I do.
Once inside my place, I lean against the door. My body is still warm with little tingles sprinkling across my skin in places I haven’t felt in a while, places that have been ignored for too long. I release a deep breath and try to shake myself out of this crazy daydream. The liquor in my system makes me dizzy, so I pause as it rushes back to my head, then I start to walk.
Yeah, it’s just the alcohol making me think craziness like this. Charlie’s from Jim’s world. I’m sure there are more similarities than differences, and I don’t think I can put my heart at risk to prove my head wrong.
I hang my coat in the closet and kick my heels off when I enter my room, working my way to the bathroom and tossing my dress onto my bed.
After brushing my teeth, I slip off my bra before pulling a tank top over my head. When I climb into bed, I realize it’s not that late, but I’m exhausted. Switching on the television, I relax into the mattress with a cooking show playing in the background. Recounting the day is interesting, as Charlie’s face fills every moment worth remembering. He was a bright spot on an otherwise dark day.
Thinking back to Jim’s funeral, it could have been awful, even more awful than the fact that I was actually attending his funeral. The stares, the whispers—I heard them all. I saw them all gawking at me like I did something wrong, like I was the one who cheated on him. That’s Cherry’s doing. She’s woven her web of lies and used me as her tarnished-halo-wearing son’s scapegoat. She can’t have the truth come out about someone in her family, much less her picture-perfect son. He wasn’t all bad as a person—I did fall in love with him, after all—but he wasn’t all good either.
Maybe she doesn’t know what happened between us. Maybe he lied and blamed me. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out, but I do know I can’t dwell on it. It’s not healthy for me to live in the dark any longer, especially not when the light feels so good.
I’m nervous the next day while walking into work. I shouldn’t be, but I am. My stomach has been twisted into mini-knots all morning. I’m blaming those for the extra drink I have in my hand right now, passion fruit and mango iced tea from the deli downstairs—Rachel’s favorite.
Am I sucking up or trying to butter her up? I shouldn’t have to. Charlie made the reason they aren’t going on another date sound mutual. I just hope that’s the truth, but I still need to talk to Rachel. That’s the right thing to do. I raise my chin up a degree and walk with more purpose and confidence toward her desk. Yes, this is the right thing to do. My only hesitation is that she might say she doesn’t want me to see Charlie again, even as friends.
“Good morning,” I say, setting her drink down next to her. She is focused on her computer screen but glances over and smiles.
Spinning around, she grabs the drink and sips it. “Thank you, and good morning to you.” Her eyes flash to the drink again, then back to me. “This is a nice surprise.”
As I lean against her desk, I attempt to play it off. “Yeah, I was going there anyway, so I thought I’d grab you one.”
“That’s very thoughtful.” Her expression turns serious, and I know she sees right through me. The guilt must be written across my face. Rachel hesitates before asking, “How are you? How was the funeral?”
I do a mental brow wipe in relief before answering. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She turns in her chair to face me, sipping her drink. I smile and try to sound casual. “You never told me how your date with Charlie went?”
“There wasn’t much to tell.”
“It’s not like you not to share.”
She shrugs. “I just didn’t because I was a little disappointed. He’s a great guy, but he isn’t ‘the one.’ ”
“But you also haven’t seemed like yourself,” I prod, hoping she opens up, needing more and hating to see her sad.
“Paolo called to tell me he’s not coming back, and the whole dating scene here is out of vogue. I’m tired of being optimistic and everything fizzling before it gets started.”
Dropping my purse to the floor, I set my drink down and move closer. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not about always looking, but letting things happen naturally.”
