Page 66 of Almost Home
If that didn’t tell me exactly how far gone I was, I didn’t know what would. But between not getting to see her, then the doc’s suggestion that itcouldbe this easy, and knowing we wouldn’t actually get to spend time together until at least Saturday, though we hadn’t talked about that… I was in a surly mood, to say the least.
My cell rang just as she hung up, and the afternoon went like that for a while, until almost closing time. When I looked up to find her leaning in my doorframe watching me work, a bolt of pleasure shot through me and I shut my laptop.
“You going to get to leave anytime soon? Seems like you’ve been working nonstop this week.”
The sympathy in her voice did something to me. Maybe I’d been too long without tenderness, or maybe I was just an idiot and her soft, sweet voice made me feel stupid. Either way, I liked it, and I liked her standing there looking at me like she cared I was tired and I’d been working too much.
“I’ve got a couple interviews with some people overseas coming up tonight, so unfortunately, no.”
“I’m sorry.” She entered the room and took a seat across from me. “I was hoping we could do dinner.”
“Maybe this weekend?” I suggested, wondering how terrible it would be if I canceled the interviews tonight.
Then I could hear Bruce’s irritation and see myself wearing thinner and thinner as I worked without help and we did actually grow this business, so I trashed the idea. As much as I wanted time with Sarah, I couldn’t cancel.
“Tomorrow?”
Her smiled faded when I said, “Sorry. I’m… busy.”
Her brow furrowed and she blinked a few times before recovering. “Okay, maybe Saturday?”
Yes. Saturday. But a nudge from somewhere inside me made me clarify tomorrow. “Tomorrow’s the anniversary of some of my friends—of their deaths. And wherever I am, if at all possible, I take some time out to remember them.”
Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I shook that off. “It was a few years ago. But I learned a while back that if I bottle that sh—stuff up, if I close it in, eventually the grief and anger and memories come rolling out when I can’t control them. So I make sure to honor them, and honor my relationships with them, by being purposeful.” The idea had come from Bruce.
“Do you do it alone?”
I shifted in my seat. “Usually with Bruce, and sometimes other guys, when I was in.”
A quiet beat passed during which she clearly realized this would be my first time marking the anniversary alone.
“Do you want me to come?”
“No,” I said, too quickly. “Sorry, no.”
The grief wasn’t fresh, but it was familiar. The ritual of the day helped. Remembering my friends helped. But it felt separate from her, separate fromhere, even. The first real vestige of the life I’d only just left, and I wasn’t ready to try to wedge it into this new version of things by having her with me. It’d be much too loaded. I might decidedlyactthe fool then.
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have even—”
“Sarah, no. It’s great that you offered. So thoughtful.” I shot to my feet and rounded the desk to take her hand. “I appreciate it more than I can say. But I want to look forward to seeing you Saturday, if you’ll have me, and I promise I won’t be distracted or moody or anything but completely…”Yours.But I settled for saying, “Present.”
A small smile appeared on her lips. “You? Moody?”
I gave her a squinty look, and she laughed. I went in for a kiss, lingering with my lips to the smooth skin of her cheek before withdrawing, dropping her hand, and stepping away. “Just let me know when I can see you Saturday, okay?”
“Of course.” She smiled broadly, a genuinely glorious sight, and then left me wishing I could cancel everything—everything—and just spend time with her.
* * *
Every damn thing had gone wrong today. Everything.
Considering how good yesterday had been—kissing Sarah, making plans with her, knowing we’d have time together in the not-too-distant future—I should’ve been able to function today without a cloud over my head. But that wasn’t the real problem. Today was never going to be happy-go-lucky, and I was fine with that.
It was the number of problems I’d had, the walking through mud sensation I met with, at every step for every action on my list of things to do today, that had my irritation at its peak.
Equipment that should’ve been here late yesterday failed to arrive. The shipment that did included broken product and in one case, the wrong thing, despite the order being correct. Bruce had called twice while I was out needing information I didn’t have about the Reynolds account, Grenier had wanted a one-month financial run-down and I didn’t even know what the hell that was, and Sarah had been quiet. Really quiet.
