Page 53 of Late Bloomer
Opal clears her throat. “There you are. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”
“That’s correct, yes,” I say hoarsely. Because it’s true.
After the… shenanigans of last night, my head has been a muddled knot. The only way I could think straight for a second was to avoid her. I got an early start this morning, skipping lunch and only dragging myself back here when I was about to pass out from hunger (and also confirming her car wasn’t in the driveway).
Color floods her cheeks. “Well… I appreciate the honesty… I guess.”
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I say, scrubbing my eyes. My brain feels gritty, full of sand from the laser focus of the past few hours.
“Slipped in through the front,” she says with a soft smile, tilting her head toward the opposite end of the house. “I had dinner with my sisters downtown.”
I nod because, honestly, I’m not sure what else to do. I have this bizarre urge to ask her a thousand questions. Where did she go? What did she get? Did she like it? Did she have fun? Would she want to go back? Maybe with me?
All nonsensical and ridiculous.
There’s a long pause, and a rush of adrenaline floods my system as I look at her, memories of last night trying to bust out of the boxes I’ve shoved them into.
With a few hesitant steps, she moves to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting next to me. She picks up one of the papers. “What’s all this?”
“A giant mess.”
Her eyes skim over one of the pie charts, brow furrowing as she nods. My urge is to hide it, sweep all the awful papers to my chest and pretend it’s not real. This is how people scam you. They figure out your biggest problems and leverage them to their advantage. But I don’t have the energy for that. Opal is my only chance at making a dent in this disaster; I might as well let her look her fill.
“I take it business isn’t…blooming,” she says, pressing her lips together against a smile. There’s a pause. “Get it?”
“Please don’t make me kick you out of here.”
She laughs at that. We sit in tense silence for a moment before she clears her throat.
“I’ve been thinking—”
“That can’t lead anywhere good,” I mumble.
Opal rolls her eyes, sticks her tongue out at me. The movement holds the entirety of my attention.
“I personally believe you’ll like my idea,” she says with a prissy flick of her hair.
I shrug, casting my gaze to the floor. Here it comes. She’s probably figured it out. Not only does she own the only place I’ve ever been able to call home, but she also knows how she can help me. And, tragically, the damn woman seems to actually want to help people. The only thing I hate more than asking for help is accepting it. Looks like I’m about to do both.
But I will humble myself and do what I can to hold on to this farm. For Grandma Lou.
I take a deep breath, trying to untangle the words at the tip of my tongue. Say it. Just say it. I’m gonna do it. Here it goes. Any second now…
“I know what you’re going to say,” I finally bumble out, right as Opal sucks in a breath. I find the courage to look at her.
Deep crimson floods her face and neck. “You do?” she whispers.
I nod, licking my lips as my gaze travels over her face. “It could go horribly. I shouldn’t even broach the subject but it’sprobably obvious how desperate I am. Very real chance it would be a total disaster.”
Opal’s mouth flaps open and closed a few times, eyes narrowing at me. “Ye of little faith,” she eventually says, an odd, self-deprecating laugh punctuating the words. “I know a thing or two.”
My eyebrows knit. “With all due respect, not all skills are transferable.” From what I’ve seen of her studio, she works primarily with paint and ink, a few sculptures in the mix. Creating something from flowers seems like a totally different ball game. “You might be clueless with this, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”
Opal’s face twists, and she pushes away from the table, the legs of the chair screeching as she plants both hands on her hips. “Well, with all due respect, yours would hardly be the first clitoris I encounter.”
My mouth absolutely plummets to the floor. “Um… what?”
Opal’s face is full of anger as she leans toward me. “That’s what you’re implying, isn’t it? That I wouldn’t be good in bed? Just because my last relationship was with a man doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”
