Page 27 of More With You

“The twenty-sixth is fine,” I gasp. “But maybe send me those details anyway. Can’t hurt, right?” I choke out the last words: my head spinning.

My rent is cheap, sure, but finding another grand a month is going to kill me. I’m already thinking of second jobs, third jobs, as many jobs as it takes to get those bills covered. Maybe, one of the cafés would take me on breakfast service, so I can get to the casino by two. Or I could ask John for extra shifts.

“Of course, Miss Larson,” the receptionist replies, with more clackety-clacking of her keyboard. “That should be in your inbox soon. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I straighten up, turning my weary gaze up to the damp-stained ceiling. “How is she?”

“She’s… in good spirits, Miss Larson. Good days and bad, but today is a good one. She’s been in the communal room, listening to records. I hear she’s quite the jiver.” The receptionist chuckles. It’s probably supposed to comfort me, but it doesn’t. I wish I could be with her. It’s painful, seeing her listless and not always aware of who I am, but I need a mom right now, and she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to that.

I think I might cry, and I don’t want to sob on the phone to a stranger. “Give her my love, will you? Tell her I called and asked about her.”

“Of course, Miss Larson. Is there anything else I—”

“There is, actually,” I interrupt, blinking back tears and trying to hold some strength in my voice. “If anyone other than me calls you again, hang up on them or threaten to call the cops. My grandma doesn’t have a nephew. She only has me.”

And I only have her.

There’s an awkward silence. “I’m so sorry, Miss Larson. I didn’t know.” She’s panicking. I can hear the change in her voice. “He sounded so convincing, and he knew a lot about her.”

“I bet cold callers and scammers love you.” I swallow. “Just… don’t let it happen again, or I’ll be forced to report it.” The receptionist might be a gossip, but she deserves a second chance. Everyone does.

Everyone does…

I shake off the deeper meaning. “Thank you, that’s all.” I hang up before she can reply.

With another thousand dollars of debt hanging over my head, I drag myself off the floor, gather my things, and head out. My phone is warm in my hand as I walk to my car, feeling safer in the daytime than I would at night. Still, there’s one voice who could chase away the worries weighing down on me. One person who could make me forget, albeit temporarily.

Getting into the driver’s seat, I stare at my phone for a long time, going back and forth in my mind. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression, but I don’t want to be on my own, right now, either.

Not yet… It wouldn’t be fair. The realization saddens me, as I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and pull out of the parking structure. It would be so easy to run to him, but easy now might mean tricky later. With a kid in the mix, I can’t be selfish.

But there is one other place I can go, where I know I’ll always be welcome.

“Ms. T,” I whisper above the lilting music of the radio, “I’m coming for you. I hope you’ve got the coffee ready.” Who else could unravel this twist in the tale, if not a bookstore owner?

BEN

I thought I’d let fate guide me again, since it worked so well the last time. It took me into town, and I went to the places I know she likes to go. I’m not trying to disobey her request for space, but I need to see her, even if it’s just from afar. I don’t want the edges of her face to blur in my memory, and I don’t want that sad, disappointed look in her eyes to be the last expression I ever see of hers.

But, more than that, I need to know she hasn’t gone anywhere. Being cast away from her house has made me realize how new we are to each other. There aren’t enough pieces to make a whole picture, just yet, but I want to fill in those blanks. I wouldn’t start a series without intending to finish it, and she’s the masterpiece of a lifetime. Still, it makes me nervous that she might skip town. I can’t believe myself to be a strong enough anchor to keep her here, until I know what’s going on in her mind.

It’s been less than a day, but I’m feeling lost at sea. It’s the not-knowing, you know? If she wanted nothing more to do with me, I’d accept it (not graciously, but I’d honor her wishes). If she wants to carry on exploring what we have, I’ll wait for as long as I have to, but I wouldn’t mind a hint or a sign. A bit of hope, so I’m not driving myself mad, waiting for the phone to ring.

It feels weird, writing this from the booth. Lou is singing to himself, and he’s a belter when it comes to Elvis Presley. I should probably head home or go for a long drive, but I kind of want to be in one place, in case she comes looking for me. This is the only place I can think of, where she’d know to find me, or know of someone who knew where to find me. So, I’ll hang tight for a while, listen to Lou’s crooning, and hope she comes by.

10

SUMMER

“So, that’s where I’m at,” I say with a sigh, and polish off the tiny cup of rich, aromatic espresso. “My head is like one of those mystery plot boards. Tangled threads everywhere.”

I’ve just told Ms. T the whole tale, from where she and I left off to where Ben and I have: the yacht club, the kiss by the car, the perfect date, sucking on crawfish heads in the sunshine, the call that dragged him away, the mind-blowing sex, and the simple five-letter word that has altered everything. I also had a few choice words to say about Levi that would ordinarily have made Ms. T reach for the soap to wash my mouth out, but she’d given me a pass for obvious reasons.

She releases a low whistle, like she’s calling a squad of dogs to heel. “Hon, even I’d be in a scramble, and nothin’ gets me in a mix these days.” She shakes her head, cradling her espresso cup as if it were a small bird. “I know this ain’t one of my romance novels, but I’m feelin’ this is the blank page before the “Part Two.” Is it goin’ to end happy or go tits up? No one knows.”

“I thought you were going to tell me to get my head out of my ass and go on back to him,” I reply with a half-smile. Her tough love is the one thing I can rely on, and usually it’s the tonic I need, but I’m glad she’s going softer on me today.

Ms. T wags a finger. “Lord, no! Honey, if your head was up your ass, you’d be eatin’ syrup and waffles with him on that cozy porch of yours, tryin’ to pretend this kid don’t exist. Sure, you’d have yourselves a wild couple of weeks, rollin’ in the hay and indulgin’ in some fine lovin’, but then what?” She tuts, clearly disapproving. “The handsome ones always have the secrets, huh? See, my Mr. T—ugly as an old toad, but I wouldn’t change him for all the tea in China. He ain’t got no secrets, and he’d beat every last one of my fantasy highlanders in the sack, but then I never did have a Ben waltz into my shop to sweep me off my feet.”

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