Page 69 of Room for Us

The fact I didn’t grow up on a ranch riding horses never mattered. Her point was clear.

I’m on my second cup of coffee a half hour later when Celeste bursts through the front door of Beans & Books in a flurry of blond curls and oversized tote bags stuffed with groceries. She sees me and grins, then weaves her way through the small aisles between tables, chirping sorries and tossing smiles as her bags knock shoulders.

She collapses into the chair opposite me, her face flushed. “Shit, hi. Sorry I’m late.”

I eye her bags. “Doing a little shopping?”

“I was at the grocery store when I called you, but then I ran into some ladies, and you know how it goes, they wanted to talk my ear off for a decade, but you can’t just walk away from them or they’ll spread rumors that you’re having emotional troubles.”

I nod. “Lilac Ladies strike again.”

“Oh my God, that’s right!” She laughs, a contagious tinkling sound that draws eyes from around the room. “I’d forgotten that you called them that in high school. Oh man, remember that essay you posted on flyers all over town? You had some serious guts. I always admired that about you.”

“I wouldn’t call it guts.” I shrug, taking a sip of coffee to hide my discomfort. “More like the aforementioned emotional troubles.”

“We all had those. Heck, I still do. You know, there’s a whole new generation of them—Lilac Ladies. At least back in the day, Barb and her crew had a little tact.”

“Uh, did you say tact?”

Celeste giggles. “Fair point. But they’d blow you up at knitting circles, never, you know, at the PTA. Plus, now there’s social media, which is a new level of nightmare.” By the time she finishes, there’s no trace of laughter in her.

I lean forward, lowering my voice, “Hey, what’s going on? Do I need to make up some new flyers?”

Celeste smiles bravely. “Nah. Just the usual stuff—single-mom in a conservative, nuclear-family town. You’d think these women would have something better to do than try to set me up on dates every other week with so-and-so’s brother or friend.”

I grimace. “Ew.”

“Exactly.” She stands. “I’m gonna grab a tea. Need a refill?”

“I’m good.”

By the time Celeste returns, I’ve finished my coffee and am scowling at a paper napkin I’m currently tearing into tiny pieces, a mirror of the chaos inside me.

“Um, something on your mind?” Celeste stares pointedly at my napkin massacre.

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Pick a place. I’m all ears.”

“I’ve never had any close girlfriends,” I blurt, then drop my head in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“What for? Hey.” Her fingers press over mine, stilling them. “Whatever it is, I’m in no position to judge you, or anyone. And I’m definitely no Lilac Lady.”

The pressure inside me builds, then bursts.

“I’m sleeping with my guest. With Ethan. And we’ve grown really close in the last week and a half. I just realized I have feelings for him, which is so stupid because he’s leaving in four weeks, so yay me! Then today—right before you called, actually—his daughter shows up for a weekend visit. Awkward but doable, right? A few days of acting like we’re not banging like teenagers. But then his girlfriend shows up, too. Or ex-girlfriend? Or maybe they’re separated but still together? I have no idea. I want to murder everything, but I’m mostly angry with myself. How stereotypical am I? Jumping into bed mid-divorce with the first man to show me the attention Chris never did? Ugh, I’m a bad Hallmark movie.”

After a pregnant silence, Celeste closes her gaping mouth and glances at her cup of tea.

“I might need something stronger for this.”

38

Since neither of us wants to be spotted at The Rooster at two o’clock on a Saturday, and Damien is at a friend’s house for the day, we end up at Celeste’s place drinking Bloody Marys. She lives off Main Street in a brick warehouse that was converted years ago into loft apartments.

Her loft is bright and airy from high ceilings and oversized windows, with two bedrooms and an open living room and kitchen. Splashes of color and an abundance of plants turn what would could easily be sterile, industrial living into a beautiful, eclectic home.

After mixing our drinks, she leads me to a deep purple sectional that feels like sitting on a cloud.

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