Page 35 of The Scars I Bare
“How is she doing?” I asked. “I mean, is she acclimating well?”
He nodded, helping himself to the nachos we’d ordered. “She’s going to be great. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”
And there it was. My window. To ask about Cora. To tell him about the way she’d shied away from my touch. The haunted look in her eyes.
It was right there, hanging in the silence, but I let it go.
Why?
Because this wasn’t Jake’s problem.
And it wasn’t mine either.
I needed to step back and mind my own business.
She clearly didn’t need my help.
“I’m just desperate for it to simmer down,” he continued. “Molly and I have been back together for only a handful of months, and with the wedding coming up—”
“You want time,” I finished, understanding his dilemma.
“I know that’s lame and selfish. But that’s just where I am.”
“It’s not lame or selfish. You’ve given yourself completely to this town. Wanting a little time with your fiancée isn’t asking much. Are you sure you don’t need anything? And don’t give me that shit about having it all under control.”
He chuckled, taking a sip from one of the amber-colored glasses, before answering, “As much as I want to say no, I can’t. I really do need help.”
“Knew it. And who better to help than your loser best friend who has nothing to do?”
He gave me a hard stare. “That’s on you, buddy. There’s nothing holding you back.”
I ignored him and instead pushed ahead. “So, what do you need me to do? Take temperatures? Make appointments? If you say anything that has to do with the phraseturn and cough, I’m out.”
A familiar grin that used to get me in a lot of trouble formed across his face. “Filing.”
“Filing?” I repeated, feeling less than enthused. “All my experience with bookkeeping, not to mention the fact that I own and operate my own company, and you want to use me for filing?”
“Operated.”
“What?”
“Past tense. You do own a company, well, co-own, but as for the operating, that’s all your brother these days. Don’t take credit for that.”
My eyes rolled as that familiar twinge of guilt gnawed at my gut. How long would it continue to do so until I finally broke down and did something about it?
“Whatever,” I finally answered, ignoring the churning feeling in my stomach like I always did. “Anyway, filing?”
“Yep. There’s days’ worth. When Betty left, I put a few in a stack and told myself I’d get to it later, but later never came. There’s stacks on top of stacks. It’s just damn embarrassing. And Cora is so immersed in learning—”
“I get it. You need someone to do the grunt work. Have you ever considered hiring a secretary?”
“Sure,” he sneered. “Give me an extra thirty to forty thousand a year, and I’ll gladly do that.”
“Right. Okay, filing. I can do that,” I said, holding up a half-empty glass of IPA. “Just do me one favor?” I asked.
He gave me a meaningful glance. “Anything.”
“Make sure that fiancée of yours sends you into work with plenty of coffee and pastries.”
