Page 15 of Falling for You

It’s a little embarrassing to admit that to him, and I drop my head, focusing on the table as I pick at the black nail polish on my thumb. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t have his life together. That wouldn’t know how to make a simple business plan and present it to the bank. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even have to go to the bank to get the loan like I did. I make enough money at the salon to cover my bills easy, but I still have medical bills that incurred from Mom that weren’t covered by her insurance and she didn’t have life insurance to cover any of it. But the embarrassing part is that I didn’t know that you have to actually have a little bit of debt to gain credit.

When Mom passed, she had been not feeling well for long enough that she shut down her own place a few years ago. At the time, I refused to have her hold on to something that was only causing her more stress so I found a job here in Liberty and she moved here with me. Well, she bought a house and I lived in it with her while I worked.

Man, I really am ridiculous. Twenty-nine years old and I have nothing to show for my life except for a home I inherited and the small amount in my IRA that, yup, I inherited. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it away in a retirement fund so I could plan a little better.

“So you own your own home and they wouldn’t consider you? That seems like bullshit to me.”

“I don’t know. They said that I was too much of a risk for them to take on.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Beats me. Maybe because I don’t have any ties to Liberty?”

“I’m not sure that’s a viable reason for a bank to deny you a loan.”

“Well, whatever the reason is, they said no.”

I sound like I’m giving up, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. One can only hear the word no so many times in her life before they just can’t take it anymore. What I don’t tell Rex is that two days ago is when the start of my shitty day actually started.

Receiving a phone call from my grandparents, who I had never met in my life, was shocking, to say the least. They had found out that my mother passed away and proceeded to rip me a new one because I hadn’t let the family know. Like they were any sort of family to her, or me, for that matter.

And then, to top it off, Paul, the man who my mother had a son with, came into the salon for a haircut. He pretended like he had no idea I worked there but I know he did. I still don’t know how his hair looked when he left my chair. My mind was reeling in a thousand different directions the entire time.

If my mother hadn’t left him and his son, would he have been my father? Which, no, not really, becauseIwouldn’t be here. Then I kept wondering why he cared so much. Does he really want to have a relationship with me? Or is he just like my grandparents, looking for something he thinks he deserves after Mom died. If he was looking for money, which is what my grandparents were after, he’s definitely looking in the wrong place.

It had been two solid days of my mind wandering and anxiety sky rocketing and I had no one to talk to. My friends know a little about my past but not enough for them to offer any kind of advice or support in the situation.

“Chloe?” Rex says my name loudly and snaps his fingers in front of my face. I shake my head, look at him, and realize I’d been having an entire conversation in my head for a while.

“Sorry. I zoned out a bit.”

“I noticed. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie, hoping he’ll just drop it. By the look on his face, he knows I’m lying, but I think he’s nice enough he’ll let it go. Or maybe he doesn’t care enough to ask more questions. The crazy woman who doesn’t even know where to begin to get her hot water heater fixed or how to get a startup business loan is probably not worth his time.

But he doesn’t seem like that type of guy to me. He’s the one who asked me to Balance for desserts and has seemed genuinely interested in what I have to say all night.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. I think I just fell into a bit of a sugar coma there for a bit.”

He smiles a crooked half smile that brings out a little indentation below the right corner of his mouth.

“What happened there?” I ask, pointing to the spot but not touching.

“Where?”

“By your lip. When you smile, I see it. But when you’re not smiling I don’t. It’s a scar, right?”

He watches me for a moment, head turned to the side before he nods slowly. “Yeah. I, uh, was running in the house, tripped and fell, head butting the kitchen cupboards. The handle jabbed into my lip.”

“Stitches?”

“Just a couple. I was only three.”

“It’s cute.”

His fingertips rub the small scar, whether it’s consciously or not, I don’t know, but it’s adorable. Every time I mention something on his body, he touches the spot. I want to challenge my theory, test it out a bit. See what else I can get him to touch.

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