The Real

“Good for you, Abigail.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just don’t want to be late.”

“I understand. I’ve taken up a lot of your time,” she said softly before she perked up. “I hope this one sticks.”

“You and me both.”

She lingered a moment longer. It was obvious she’d recently dyed her silver hair; her hairline was stained purple. I’d been the one to help her with it the last few times she’d colored it. This time, she hadn’t even asked.

“Jenny, I really have to run. I’ll come by and grab that ziti on my way home.”

“Don’t you worry. It will be waiting when you’re ready.” She carefully made her way down the steps as I watched her struggle with her footing. I didn’t know how much longer she would be able to self-sustain. I would have to talk to her son about it in the near future. The thought of her leaving broke my heart. But instead of offering my company and making a promise for later, I kept my mouth shut. Miss Fix-It had a date.

Minutes later, after giving Bennie his twenty outside the café, I flew past Cameron with my borrowed I Wish I Were Felicia. She’s Always Going Somewhere mug and opened my Mac.

Abbie’s Mac: Hi. Sorry I’m late. I got cornered by my tenant again.

He’d been frowning at his screen while I got comfortable. His lips twitched with a small smile as he read my message then looked over at me.

Cameron’s Mac: What did you have to pretend to fix this time?

Abbie’s Mac: Nothing. Turns out she just wanted to feed me, and I was witchy to her before she even offered it. I’ve been spending a lot of time with her the past year and I’ve been neglecting her lately. I feel like shit. But I have to stop before she asks me to join her knitting circle, ya know?

Cameron’s Mac: I’m sure she understands. And I have to say, I’m fond of you for taking care of her like that. It’s a good thing you care.

Though it was warmer today, he was bundled up in a hoodie and wearing a ball cap which was a first. He looked exhausted and for the first time ever, thrown together. Something was . . . off.

Abbie’s Mac: Things looked serious over there when I got here. Everything okay? Are you getting sick?

He gave me a mustered wink as he did a slow perusal of me from the tip of my ankle boots to the top of my head. I didn’t know how he did it with a look alone, but by the time he was done, I felt worshiped. We’d been having coffee every day for the last week and I had to admit I was growing tired of my own rules.

Cameron’s Mac: And now you’re worried about me? Everything’s fine, nothing a little sleep can’t fix. Besides, there’s a lot more I’m interested in going on over there.

Abbie’s Mac: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Cameron’s Mac: As you should. Fuck, you’re beautiful.

Though the sky was gray, I felt covered in sun.

Abbie’s Mac: Do you do that to every woman you woo?

Cameron’s Mac: Do what?

Abbie’s Mac: Say things like that?

Cameron’s Mac: You get no history of woo. Your rules and woo? I mean I know what wooing is, but is that still a word fit for 2017?

Abbie’s Mac: It’s the best word. And I’d say you’re bringing it back fucking nicely.

Cameron’s Mac: Such a dirty mouth on a totally fucking wooable woman.

Though his eyes were lit with mischief and his tilted lips told me he was happy to see me, it was the weariness in his posture that prompted my next question.

Abbie’s Mac: Tell me what’s wrong.

He hovered over his keyboard and I saw him make the decision.

Cameron’s Mac: Can’t.