Page 13 of Blade

That was when I left. I call them dutifully once a week. The conversations are short and frivolous; however, they relieve my guilt. I know I did what was right for me, but I do love my parents, and walking out caused quite a stir. Although, they’ve been telling all their friends that I’m in Europe.

Blade is simply staring and smiling at me.

“What?”

“That’s huge,” he answers, which I don’t get.

“What’s huge?”

“People apologize but follow it up with an excuse as to why they did whatever they did in the first place. Not you. I get a straight-up apology,” he says. “It speaks to the person you are, and I’m beginning to like you more and more by the second.”

I feel heat rising into my cheeks. “I like you too.”

As he’s about to resume eating, Blade’s phone buzzes. He picks it up and looks at his message. “Uh, babe, you got plans for the day?”

“Not until seven tonight. I’m meeting a couple and taking their engagement photos by the lake. It’s where he proposed, and she wants to use the pictures for invitations and such. Why?”

“In an hour, you’re going to be swarmed by Vi and company.”

“Here?” My voice squeaks. “I can’t entertain. Where would they sit? For Pete’s sake, I have nothing to serve.” I’m rambling, and I know it. Panic sets in as I jump out of my seat and rush to my refrigerator. I have lots of fruits and vegetables. I quickly think about putting together a fruit tray and a vegetable tray. I try to calm my erratically beating heart and will my home to magically fill itself with furniture and food that would be fit to serve.

It’s not until I hear Blade’s voice that I turn swiftly in his direction, but he’s not speaking to me. He’s talking into his phone. “You’re going to have to cut Vi off at the pass, bro.” There’s a pause, then Blade says, “I know she wants to help, but let’s put this off until the truck arrives. We’ll make it a moving-in party. The women can cover the food, and the guys can get her stuff set up. It gives her the day to get ready for a job she has tonight.”

There’s another long pause with Blade chuckling a couple of times. Whoever is on the other end must be telling him quite a story.

“I know she’s a force to be reckoned with, but if anyone has the ability to charm and appeal to Vi, it would be you,” he says, followed by “Thanks, bro.”

I can feel the tension ease out of my neck and shoulders. My heart slows to a steady tempo, and his warm grin calms me right down. “You took care of me again,” I say.

He comes over to me, shutting the door of the refrigerator that I still have open, then pulls me into his arms. “The Lady Pride can be pushy, but they mean well. I’ve held them off for now, but the reprieve won’t last long. They’ll supply the food, and I’ll pick up the beer.”

“When do I get to take care of you?”

“Right now,” he answers. “Kiss me.”

I stretch up on my tiptoes, clasping my hands on his shoulders and moving my lips over his. Blade wraps his arms around my waist, and suddenly, I’m being dipped like they do in the movies and kissed so thoroughly that my toes curl. It doesn’t matter that my hair’s a mess and I’m wearing my old bathrobe, because Blade doesn’t even notice.

Eight

A Magical Night

Blade

The garage is as busy as ever, and by the time I finish with the first car, there are two others waiting to be serviced. I left Emryn to get ready for the day. She had a long list of things she wanted to get done before heading out to the lake for the photo shoot, including making a call to the moving company to make sure her furniture is going to be delivered as planned tomorrow.

With all the noise in the shop, it’s easy to miss a call, so every so often, I check my phone. I see that I have a missed call from Emryn, and there’s a voicemail. I call my girl first.

No hello. Emryn jumps in with “They’re jerking me around. I told them I won’t stand for it. They made all kinds of excuses, and when I told them that I’ve been rescheduled twice, they insisted there was nothing they could do about it and hung up on me. I repeat, they hung up on me.” Her voice is shaking with fury.

“Babe, I understand you want to handle this yourself, but it’s gone beyond talking. Text me their number and I’ll give them a call,” I insist.

“What can you do? They have my stuff. Or I think they do.” She gasps, “Oh my God, what if they sold my things, and that’s why they’re putting me off. Now what am I going to do?”

“Emmy, calm down. One way or another, you’re getting your stuff,” I state firmly. “Text. Me. The number,” I repeat, emphasizing the need to get this done.

“All right. I’m just so furious. I have half a mind to drive over there myself?—”

“You go and you won’t make it back in time for your appointment tonight.” That gets her attention, as I thought it would. “You take care of your business, and let me take care of the rest. Okay?”

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