Rock Bottom (Dawson Family 6)

Rory: OMG YOU’VE PLAYED?

Me: That would be a no. But if you want to teach me…

Rory: Nice try.

Me: What if I really wanted to play?

Rory: If you actually wanted to play D&D? Like for real? Then yeah. I’d teach you.

Me: Can we play naked?

Rory: And THAT would be a no. Goodnight Dean.

I set the phone down, and that same strange feeling comes over me. But this time, I know exactly what it is.

There’s no way I’m going to keep Rory off my mind.Chapter 20RoryI step back, looking at my sundresses laid out on the bed. It’s Wednesday evening, and I’ve officially been signed up to go to Miami next week for work. To offset the days I’ve been missing, I worked a double yesterday and stayed over a few extra hours today when one of the evening-shift nurses was running late.

The weekend went by fast, and it was so nice to see my brother and parents. And then Lennon was here for her interview—which she nailed—and we got to hang out that evening.

Now it’s business as usual, and with the promise of sunshine and beaches in the near future, I know this week is going to drag by.

“It’s only a few days,” I say to Figaro, who’s batting a bottle cap around the floor. “But I’d rather have options than get there and regret not bringing more, right?” I nod to myself. “Right.”

I put two dresses back in my closet and move the other to my “pack” pile, which is starting to get so big I’m not sure I’ll be able to fit everything in my suitcase.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Johnson is going to take good care of you. You might not want to leave when I get back. Which we’ll have to talk about.”

I pick up the bottle cap and throw it for Figaro to chase. The woman in the apartment above me is letting me drop Figaro off with her for the week while I’m gone. We’ve already introduced him to her cat, and after a few good hours of nonstop hissing at each other, the two cats seem to mildly tolerate each other now.

I pick up the agenda for the week and sink down onto my bed. Each day starts with breakfast, and then moves right into presentations. Some actually sound interesting, and others are being put on by medical and pharmaceutical companies trying to sell their products. Which could be interesting, yet if I can find a way to get out of one or two, I will. I’d much rather take that hour lying out in the sun than listening to someone talk about the different ways to sanitize surgical tools.

I’m a bad girl, I know.

“I only have one swimsuit, and I’ve had it for years.” I pick up the bottle cap again and roll it across the room. Figaro bats it under the dresser. Instead of trying to get it, he looks at me. “I’ve created a monster.”

I get the bottle cap back, wondering why I even bother with cat toys, and grab my laptop. After a few quick minutes of online shopping, I order two new swimsuits. The first one is a white one-piece with a deep V-neckline and high-cut sides. It’s sexy while still holding onto a bit of modesty and will be perfect for my pool time after I’ve gorged myself at dinner.

The second is right there on the edge of my comfort zone, but I processed the payment before I had time to second-guess myself. It’s a sparkly blue bikini, with cheeky bottoms and a rather skimpy top. I’ve always been on the thin side of average, but I’m by no means in good shape, and with only a week until the trip, there’s no way I can get to my ideal body weight in that time.

“I’m fine the way I am,” I say, looking myself in the mirror. I’ve wrestled with body image my whole life and spend most days somewhere between I need to change and I’m hot the way I am.

Yawning, I close my computer and set it aside on my nightstand. My stomach grumbles, and I groan when I remember that I didn’t go grocery shopping on my way home from work because I was tired. My plan was to nap and then head out before this snowstorm hit.

I ended up looking through my clothes instead, and now the snow is fluttering down. People still tend to panic whenever a bad snowstorm is predicted, and the store is probably picked over. This is what I get for putting things off.

Forcing myself up, I look out my window, watching the snow fall. While I complain about the cold and lament about how much I miss the sun, there’s no denying the beauty in fresh snow.

There’s something about the way it blankets the earth, softening everything and muffling harsh noises. It always made me feel safe too, because if someone was trying to get into my house, I’d see their footprints in the snow. It might be a weird thing to appreciate about snow, but it gave me piece of mind when I thought someone was standing outside my window at night.