Page 21 of Single-Minded
I wilted back into my chair, belatedly realizing it wasn’t realistic to think he could pivot on a dime and spend his evening working on my project. “Of course. Don’t mind me. I’m just excited and hyperfocused. I can research the rest of these suppliers on my list tonight instead.”
He chuckled. “Don’t forget to eat.”
“Right,” I said, absently thinking I hadn’t stocked up on groceries since moving in. I’d grabbed a lot of carryout so far and existed on that, cookies, popcorn, and wine.
The number one reason I’d just changed my entire life—address, career, goals—was to take better care of myself. I might not be a health wizard, but I knew cookies, popcorn, and wine were not doing it.
“Dammit,” I bit out, disgusted with myself.
“Sorry. Guess that’s not my business,” West said, seeming like he was about to stand.
“That wasn’t directed at you,” I clarified. “Nothing to apologize for. I do need to eat. I suck at this.”
“At eating? Or not working too much?”
“Ouch.” This guy didn’t really know me, had just met me three days ago, and was spot on with that guess. “I’m trying to get better at that but failing.”
“What would happen if you waited until tomorrow to research suppliers?”
“I’d sit around tonight, antsy and nervous because I could be researching suppliers.” It was an honest response, and I knew as it spilled out of me, it was the wrong answer. “I’m not so good at moderation.”
“What do you do to relax?” he asked.
I gazed out at the pretty lake, where a small boat carrying a fisherman was trolling past my dock. What do I do to relax?
With a self-effacing grin, I said, “I have no idea. I haven’t had time to relax since middle school.”
“Why do I think you’re serious about that?”
“Because I am. I couldn’t afford to relax when I was in finance. I barely had time to sleep.”
“You can’t keep doing that for too long,” he said.
“That’s why I’m here, at least in theory.”
“You moved to Dragonfly Lake to relax?”
“Right. To slow down.” I picked up my tall coffee cup, then remembered it was empty.
I closed my eyes, hesitating before saying more. I hadn’t told anyone this before. West seemed like a safe sounding board. Low stakes, unlike Chloe, who’d ride me daily to slow down and take a weaving class or something equally hellacious if she knew what was going on. “My mom died of a heart attack at age fifty,” I started.
He let out a low whistle. “That’s young.”
I nodded. “Her marriage with my dad was…bad,” I summarized, not wanting to get into how he’d hit her on the regular. “She finally left him when I was ten. She received no support, but we were safe. It’s not easy to feed and clothe two kids as a single mom with no specialized skills, no degree.”
“I was raised by a single mom too,” he said. “She had to work two jobs for my whole childhood. She was the office manager at Skeeter’s Auto Repair during the day and worked nights cleaning businesses.” His love for his mom was evident in his tone.
“Mine was the manager of a chain restaurant,” I said, feeling a kinship with him that surprised me. “They worked her seventy to eighty hours a week, always on her feet, always dealing with staff shortages, employees who flaked, customers who complained. She basically worked herself to death.”
I felt his gaze on me.
“Yes, I was doing the same thing she was except investment banking instead of restaurant management,” I said before he could point it out. “Like I told you, I’m driven, and I had goals. I didn’t notice the similarities. I didn’t take the time to notice.”
“But you must have if you moved here to change.”
“A few months ago, I started getting headaches, but mostly I worked through them. Eventually I had a couple dizzy spells, so I made an appointment with my doctor. My blood pressure was really high. Like, scary high. She put me on meds and bluntly told me I was going to end up with a heart attack or a stroke before I was fifty.”
West grimaced. “She got through to you?”
