Nadine: Thank you for joining me.
Logan: My pleasure.
For some reason, his words send a jolt of heat right through my center. Way to go, Nadine. As I shower, I admit to myself there is another reason for my enthusiasm: seeing Logan again, which is silly. If there was ever bad timing to fantasize about a man, it’s now. I have to focus one hundred percent on my business if I want it to stand any chance. Still, I’m glad he’s coming with me to meet the realtor. Logan’s confidence in my idea on Friday was like fuel for my dream; I can use some more of that today. Besides, that man is some serious eye candy. The fact that I don’t want to involve myself with anyone right now doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his sexy ass.
After I shower, I inspect my business plan for a while then dress in a suit. I still have some time left before I have to leave, so I call my mom. She picks up quickly.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Morning, sweetie.”
As always, I breathe a sigh of relief when she sounds happy. For as long as I remember, Mom has suffered from depression, coming in episodes. Sometimes she was happy, and sometimes she wouldn’t rise from her bed, or even talk. When I was five, my father left us. We never heard from him again, and sorrow crippled Mom for years. Between the lack of access to medication and the stigma associated with the illness, she could barely hold a job.
Friends and family helped for a while then stopped, saying Mom should “get over herself,” as if she was bratty, not sick. Growing up, I worked odd jobs in our small town in North Carolina. I did everything from mowing lawns to carrying mail or bagging groceries. I took care of us the best I could. When I was a junior in high school, things changed. Mom sought out treatment. Then she married Brian, and he’s the best man I know.
“Hun, are you there?” Mom’s voice resounds.
“Yeah, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts. I wanted to tell you that I’m seeing a realtor today. He’ll help me find a space for my shop.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
“Thanks. I’m excited, but also scared.” This is something I wouldn’t admit to anyone but Mom. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“You can always come back home. Jack said you could always have your job back if you wanted to.”
I gulp. “Yeah, that’s right.” Jack is my last boss. He said he’d hire me back in a second if I wanted to. That’s my fallback plan. If I can’t make the store profitable enough to be able to take care of Mom and Brian after they retire, I’ll return to North Carolina and take Jack’s offer. My soul would die bit by bit in that job, but at least I have a plan B.
“I’m sure it’ll work out, though,” Mom says. “You worry too much.”
“Yeah. I’m a professional worrier.”
Worrying was all I did before Mom started taking medication, found a stable job, and Brian. It was the first time in forever that I didn’t have to worry about going to bed hungry, or about sleeping without heat. It’s been more than a decade since Brian entered our lives, and a small part of me still fears he’ll bail on Mom eventually, like Dad and the rest of our family did.
I’ll never be able to shake off those hard years when I took care of us, when there was no one to count on, and I never felt safe. I learned my lesson... or at least, I thought I did. I let my guard down with Thomas, and that was a big mistake.
“I’ll let you know how it goes, Mom. I have to leave now. Say hi to Brian for me.”
“Will do.”
An unpleasant knot settles in my throat as I leave my apartment. Shaking my head, I push away the negative thoughts, bringing back the smile I promised to Logan.
This better work out. I simply can’t fail.
***
A lovely early autumn morning greets me outside. The sky is a beautiful pink, interspersed with stripes the color of amethyst. I take the weather as a good omen. Smiling, I head toward my destination. My smile morphs into a grin as I approach the realtor’s office downtown, and an amalgam of smells overtakes my senses: magnolias, cypress, and the occasional whiff of Chanel.
I’m supposed to meet Logan in the park in front of the realtor’s office. I arrive with a few minutes to spare and find Logan sitting on a bench. Sweet Lord, he’s wearing a suit again, and he is perfect. I’m sure he’s mouth-watering no matter what he wears, but something about seeing him in a suit and cufflinks turns my knees weak. He exudes power, without losing the mouth-watering factor.
“You’re here early,” I tell him. He looks up from his smartphone, his dark eyes scanning me, resting on my mouth for a brief second. I wet my lower lip, averting my gaze when heat creeps up my cheeks. I haven’t blushed in ages, yet here comes this man, making me feel like a college girl with nothing but his eyes. Rising to his feet, he hands me a small paper bag and a coffee cup I hadn’t noticed.
“I bought you a coffee and a chocolate croissant.”
“Wow, thank you,” I say. “I love chocolate croissants.”
Opening the bag, I take out the pastry and bite into it then sip from my coffee.
“I know. I asked Ava.”