“It says you’re human. No big deal. Everybody likes what they like.” When I glance up at her, she chuckles. “What? I told you. Almost dying has a way of making everything look different.”
Obviously. I hardly recognize what she’s saying. She’s always been the free-spirited one. Kind of wild, a little nuts. But this is beyond that. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to find out what they think about it,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
“That’s right.” She smiles as much as she can. “Look at you, being brave. Don’t forget about me while you’re busy dating three men at once, okay?”
If there’s one thing I don’t have to think about, it’s that. “How could I ever?”
I think it over on the way back to the motel. I should move, shouldn’t I? At least to someplace cleaner and more livable. I can afford it now, at least for a little while until Thatcher’s better.
And then what? I know what my heart wants. At least, I think I do. On the other hand, I was so looking forward to moving away and starting fresh.
Maybe I can start fresh here.
I’m still so distracted, going back and forth, that the sight of something spread out across the bed doesn’t register right away when I enter the room. When it does, I press myself against the closed door while my heart beats in triple time.
Finally, it’s clear I’m alone and that the dress came from Cassandra’s. I remember it as one of the outfits I saw on a mannequin this week. There’s a note sitting on top. Wear this tonight.
Do I even want to know how they broke in and left this here? Who have I gotten myself involved with?
Am I crazy for still wanting to see how far we can take it?