Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1) - Page 35
Right or wrong, I broke up with her.
I gave her hope we’d work some kind of long-distance thing out.
I slept with Katie.
I had a kid.
Glancing up as the flashlight beam bounces off the window above me again, my heart fills with a love I’ve never felt for anyone else.
I wouldn’t change it for the world.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NEELY
Focus,” I demand. Flexing my fingers, I start again.
Dear Mr. Snow,
Thank you very much for the invitation to interview.
My fingers stop working.
I throw my head back and sigh.
It’s taken me twenty minutes to type twelve words I don’t hate, and all I’m doing is thanking a man for an opportunity to interview. It’s a basic email. I should’ve been done with this nineteen minutes ago.
Alas, I take a deep breath and start where I left off.
I can be available for an interview at several times next week.
I groan. “All week because I have no life.” I start again but stop when a knock sounds on my bedroom door. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Mom says, poking her head around the corner. “I’m heading to the grocery for tea. You want anything?”
“I can’t think of anything.” Scooting my computer off my lap, I narrow my eyes. “You look different. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She says it too quickly. “Just running out for some tea.”
“Eyeliner. You’re wearing eyeliner.”
“So?” Her cheeks turn a shade of blush that isn’t natural. “Can’t a woman my age wear eyeliner?”
Grinning, I swing my legs off the side of the bed. “Yup. Especially if you want to look hot. Who you looking all spiffy for, Mama?”
The blush deepens. “Will you stop it?”
“Not until you answer me.” I walk across the room and pull the door open. “And you’re wearing a skirt.”
“A maxi skirt. For goodness’ sake, Neely. It goes to my ankles.”
“So you’re going for a classy look. A ‘you have to work for the goods with me’ type of thing.” I raise a brow. “I like it.”
Her hands fly through the air in exasperation. “When do you go back to New York?”
“Needing this as a love pad?” I tease. “I can stay with Claire, you know.”
“No, you may not. You’re staying here.” As she smooths down her skirt, the pink in her cheeks pales. “Mr. Rambis needed a few things, so we’re going together.”
“Mr. Rambis from across the street? The guy that taught algebra for a hundred years?”
“It wasn’t a hundred years, but yes. That’s him.”
I consider this. “Not bad. He’s cute. Could lose the mustache, though. But his lawn is impeccable. You might want to consider that.”
“And why should I consider his lawn when I’m just getting some groceries with the man?”
“Because,” I say, sitting back on the bed, “it starts with groceries. Then you start baking for him. Then he’s staying late into the night, and the next thing you know, he’s in your bed.”
“Neely!”
“It’s true. I’ve read articles on things like this because God knows I don’t have any experience. And they say if a man’s lawn is too tidy, that means he doesn’t spend enough time inside.” I waggle my brows. It brings the blush back to her face. “If you get what I’m saying.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
With a roll of my eyes, I lean against the headboard and bring my laptop back to my lap. “It’s been said.”
The banner on the screen is for a cosmetics line, and the logo is a bright green. That’s all it takes to send my spirits in a downward spiral.
I bite my thumbnail and try to shake the vision of Dane and Mia together from my brain. Looking up, I see my mother still standing in the doorway.
“What’s the matter, Neely?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” she prods. “You owe me after that Mr. Rambis crap.”
Guilt gnaws at my insides. I’d hoped it would be gone by now. I’d prayed that I would put some distance between us, get a shower, eat half a cheesecake, and fall into a carb-loaded bliss and not feel so bad about the things I said. Or implied. Or insinuated.
Didn’t happen.
Instead, there might be a hole in the wall of my stomach from this evening alone. It grows a little deeper every minute.
“Have you ever had a Rocket Razzle?” I ask.
Her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “Yes. Why?”
“Well, it turns out those turn off a filter in me, and I say things I’m not proud of.”
Mom sits on the end of my bed. “What did you say? And to whom?”
I can’t look at her, so I look out the window at the dark night sky. “I said some questionable things to Dane.”
“Questionable, huh?”
“Fine. Maybe nasty.”
“Oh, Neely,” she mutters. “You’re better than that.”
“I know.”
She lays her hand on my foot and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Do I want details?”
“No.” I look at her again. “I don’t owe him an apology for anything. He hurt me. But I feel so freaking bad, Mom.”
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