Page 9 of Cut Off from Sky and Earth
* * *
I was nervous, even more nervous than I thought I’d be. I must’ve told myself to forget it and walk away a dozen times during Emily’s forty-five-minute session with Dr. Wilde. But I didn’t.
Instead, I paced back and forth inside the crystal and candle store across the street from the psychiatrist’s office. The one-year anniversary of Cassie’s murder was approaching, and I knew this would be a vulnerable time for Emily. It was important that I meet her now.
So I ignored the dirty looks of the wild-haired proprietor of Insight, Scents, and Sense and continued to keep one eye on the glassed-in lobby across the street and one eye on the time. Finally, the owner approached me.
“Sir, your energy is unsettling. Please either buy something or leave.” She met my gaze with clear hazel eyes.
I peeked at the time—four more minutes until Emily’s session would end—and grabbed a candle at random from a skirted table. I caught a whiff of a familiar scent that reminded me of aftershave as I crossed the cramped shop and plunked the candle down beside the cash register.
“Mmm. Sandalwood and amber. Excellent choice. Sandalwood is known for relaxing, calming qualities and is believed to bring positivity and purity of thought,” she told me as she carefully wrapped the glass candle container in brown paper.
“Yeah, that’s great,” I responded absently.
She reached out and wrapped her bony fingers around my wrist. I started.
“Your pulse is quite high, and your energy is agitated. The candle should help regulate your nervous system.”
I didn’t want to get snarky with her. And I definitely didn’t want to miss my chance to meet Emily by getting sucked into a conversation with this woman. She was woo-woo but well-intentioned. So I managed a smile.
“That’s good to know. I hope it works.”
She smiled back and slid a pack of wood matches with colorful tips into the bag alongside the candle. “It will. I know it.”
She rang up the purchase, and I handed over two twenties. Apparently, relaxation and positivity didn’t come cheap. Another glance at my watch. T minus 90 seconds.
I practically ran out of the shop. Then I jaywalked across the street and positioned myself to bump into Emily. I waited with my hand on the building’s entrance door and stared through the glass at the lights above the elevator bank inside. When a light and a faint ding announced the arrival of the elevator from a higher floor, I rushed inside the small lobby.
Emily stepped off the elevator, her head down. I knew from past encounters that she lowered her gaze to hide her red-rimmed eyes and puffy face after her sessions. I walked directly into her path.
A middle-aged mom-type shook her head and skirted us as Emily bounced off my chest.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Emily exclaimed, raising her head.
“Don’t be. It was my fault. Are you okay?” I caught her elbow with a light touch and guided her over to the wall, out of the flow of foot traffic.
“I’m fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she confessed.
I smiled my understanding. “I get it. I get lost in thought, too. Sometimes what’s going on up here,”—I tapped a finger against my temple—“is way more appealing than what’s going on out there.” I waved my hand at our surroundings to indicate the outside world.
She eyed me more closely. “Yeah, sometimes it is.”
After that, it was easy enough. I walked her back to her apartment, invited her for coffee the next day. We fell into a casual friendship. Started hiking on the weekends. Our first kiss. Some Netflix and chill, as we used to say. A few parties. Eventually, we started having sex, always at her place. But I never spent the night.
Then, at the end of March, I had her over to my place for a dinner date and a sleepover. Decidedly not casual. I wanted to signal my readiness to take our relationship to the next level.
She stopped on the porch to stomp the snow off her boots. I yanked the door open, and she hurried inside, her cheeks red from the cold and her long hair windblown. She thrust a bottle of red wine into my hands.
“Here. I hope this goes with what you’re making.”
“Lasagna. So, yeah. Thanks.” I kissed her, and literal sparks flew from the static electricity.
We both laughed.
“Lasagna, huh? Do I smell garlic bread, too?” She inhaled deeply, sniffing the air. Her blue eyes went saucer-wide and the color drained from her face. She wobbled on her feet.
“Em, are you okay?”
