Page 100 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
I groan as if I’m in pain. “Why do you and Erica think this has been going on for years? I just met him a few months ago.”
“I don't believe you. It sounds suspicious. It’s too neat, you both ending up in the same place.”
“I have no reason to lie!” I exclaim, thinking that my family's objection to Lance is too far-fetched and no longer valid.
“You always lie when it comes to him,” my mother says with a huff.
“I don't know why you hate him so much.”
“He's too old for you. I don't trust him.”
“For being old?” I retort. “And he's not old. He's young at heart and ...” I see Lance naked in my mind's eye. The man is beautiful.
“He was your teacher—”
“But he’s not my teacher now!”
“This man is trouble.”
“He's been very good for me, Mom. I didn't go into this lightly. I didn't rush into anything”
“You certainly know how to pick them,” my mother snorts. “You're always so unlucky when it comes to men.”
“Why do you think that is?” I snap. “Maybe it's because I saw you and dad and how your relationship worked out. You weren’t the best role models.”
“You keep blaming me! How can you think I caused all of this?” She’s angry, and now she’s making me angry. We’ll just end up saying nasty things to one another if this continues.
“Let’s not fight, Mom.”
“Are you going to stop seeing him?”
I can’t believe she’s asking me that. “No.” Nothing can stop me. Nothing and no one.
She hangs up on me.
Lately I feel more and more isolated, by Arla, by my family. Lance is the only solid, dependable person I have in my life.
I miss him. I miss being with him, I miss talking to him. I miss him but we’ve agreed to stay away from one another for a few more days. He’s busy marking some papers and I need to pace myself because I have no resistance or willpower around him. Right now I’m tempted to go over to his place, or ask him to come to mine so that we can continue on from where we left off.
Texting is all we have right now, and when I jokingly—or maybe not so jokingly—suggest that we get together, he reminds me that he’s taken a lot of work home. He tells me to practice restraint; that I don’t need to jump into bed and throw myself at him. I have a sneaky suspicion that he finds me too forward. That’s why he made me wait so long before we were intimate.
I also suspect that things are hard on him emotionally as well. I can't imagine that his ex-wife is going to let him go completely, and Lance still beats himself up about the way his daughter found out, even though it wasn't his fault that the poison witch went behind his back and told her when they’d already agreed that he would.
Even though we're just texting, it's nice to have someone in my life again, and Lance cares for me more than I'm used to having someone care for me. It takes some adjusting to having something other than work in my life.
In the days that follow, I work later than usual, slowly reverting to my long hours again just so that I have something to keep me distracted.
Then Preston walks in. I inwardly groan.
“I'm moving offices,” he tells me, that smug self-satisfied look permanently plastered to his face.
“Yeah?” I smile at him and start putting my things away. I decided the moment I saw him come in that it’s time to go home.
“I'll be really good to you when you're working for me.”
“What if I don't want to work for you?”
His face sobers when I don't laugh and he realizes that I’m being serious. “Why? I'll give you all the best clients, and the most interesting work.”
