Chapter Eight
“What am I doing?” I felt the panic start as a pinpoint, but quickly blossom into painful streaks across my chest.
“My hair,” the most precious giggle answered my question. “But I think you forgot.”
I looked down at the mass of dark curls wrapped in my fingers. Juliet tipped her head back and wrinkled her button nose at me. “Did you forget about me?”
I smiled at her. It was impossible to look at her porcelain skin, sprinkling of light freckles and dark, blue eyes and not smile at her. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And I could hardly believe I had some hand in creating her. “Never! I could never forget about you. I made you, you know. You’re ingrained in my brain.”
Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “Then maybe you forgot you,” she concluded. “Because I’ve been sitting here forever!”
“Okay, okay, Miss Thing. Sit still. I’m almost finished.”
“I have been sitting still,” she grumbled.
Her attention turned back to the TV, and this time I tried to focus on braiding her hair. My fingers weaved through her thick, soft strands as I pulled at it gently.
Before Juliet was born, I didn’t know how to braid. I didn’t know how to do most female rituals. But it was funny what having a child forced you to learn.
“Mommy, are you an alien?”
I looked down at her again as I tied the hairband around one braid and moved onto the second. The question did not even faze me. “If I’m an alien then you’re an alien.”
She giggled making that squealing sound that always made me laugh too. “I mean, are you an alien tonight? You keep forgetting to listen to me!”
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her freshly washed forehead. “I’m sorry, Jules. I’m sad that I’m not going to tuck you into bed tonight. It’s making me spacy.”
“Don’t be sad, Mommy. Just stay with me. Jesse can watch the movie with us and you can talk about the big horsies here.”
I finished her second braid and spun her around to face me. “I would love to stay home and watch the movie with you.” The roaring panic stretched to my fingertips and made them tingle. It reached up to my shoulders and neck and pulled my muscles tight.
I glanced at my phone on the kitchen counter. Maybe I could still cancel? Would it be rude to call him while he was probably already on his way?
As if in answer to my silent questions, the apartment buzzer blared through the room. I dropped the hairbrush on my toe and nearly fell backward in surprise.
“We need a different buzzer,” I told Juliet while she watched me with an exasperated expression.
I wobbled over to the voice box in three-inch heels. “Hello?”
“Let me up!” Francesca shouted into the box. “I forgot my keycard.”
I buzzed her up and unlocked the door so she could let herself in. I turned around to find Juliet twirling in happy circles with her arms spread wide. “The pizza’s here! Finally!”
I leaned my hip against the island and crossed my arms. “Oh, have you been waiting a long time?”
She stopped twirling and matched my pose with arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Mommy, I’m starving to death!”
Her adorable attitude calmed some of my racing nerves, but just barely. I walked over to the microwave and checked my reflection in the glass.
I’d pulled my dark hair into a pretty, sophisticated bun low on my neck and applied more makeup than I had in years. I used to keep my hair chin length, in a bob that was low maintenance and flattering. After I had Juliet, my hair had changed enough that a new hairstyle was in order. Besides, I had wanted to shed my East Coast look and change it up. Not just because it was safer this way, but because I didn’t want to remember the person I used to be. Frankie had done the same thing—only she’d finally been able to chop hers short.
My little black dress was way too little and tight and short, but Francesca swore my unattractive bits remained hidden and my boobs were safely tucked away thanks to the high collar and long sleeves. Juliet had saved me from a lot of things, but she’d also helped me lose some pieces of me that I hoped to find again, like my before-baby body and sex appeal.
I hadn’t dressed up in years. I spent most of my life in yoga pants and thermals at home, and what could only be described as hiking chic when I was at work—tunics and leggings paired with my oh, so stylish hiking boots. I didn’t go anywhere else. My life with Juliet, raising her by myself, was simple, but also busy. There wasn’t much time outside of our necessary routine.
Which was how I liked it.
I liked to control every last detail. I lived for routine and repetitive structure. I was at my best when things were mundane and predictable.
Francesca swept into the small apartment with all of the vivaciousness and energy of a woman possessed. In an alternate reality, Frankie was the kind of girl that would be quickly climbing her way to the top of a corporate ladder right about now. She had the focus and drive to command huge companies. And the ruthless instinct to run the rest of them out of business.
In our current life, she had been raised to head another kind of business empire. And had we stayed in DC, she would have excelled in the role her uncles had designed for her. She would have kicked ass.
Which was just one of the many reasons we had to get out of there. For Frankie’s sake.
To be honest, she was a little lost here. She liked her management position at the Lodge, but I could tell she was bored. She was bored with our whole life. Not enough to want to go back to DC, but enough that I had been worried about her lately.
She was used to constant activity and a high level of authority. Here she was low level management without friends or a social life or a purpose. She was trying to be happy. She was trying to be thankful. But I saw the struggle. And I understood it. If I didn’t have Juliet, I could imagine myself just like her, afraid to try because it would mean potential exposure, afraid to make friends because she didn’t trust anybody. Afraid to be happy because the other shoe could drop at any moment. Purposeless, listless, rudderless.
But she was trying. For us.
“Whoa, Mama!” Francesca whistled when she took in my evening ensemble. “You look… you look like…”
“Like I’m trying too hard?”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “I was going to say like a woman. A real, live woman.”
I turned back to the microwave, wondering if I should wipe off some of my fire engine red lipstick. “I think it’s too much. He’s going to think that I’m… that I’m…”
“Into him?” She smiled at our game, but panic tightened my chest.
“I can’t do this.”
Francesca picked up Juliet and plopped her on a high barstool. “You can!” she sing-songed to me.
“I’ll just stay home,” I decided. “I’ll hang with you two.”
Frankie and Juliet glared at me, twin stares of impatient judgment. “You’re not staying here with us,” Francesca insisted. “We plan to misbehave for the next four hours, eat way too much candy and stay up long past our bedtime. You’ll ruin all of our fun.”
Juliet looked up at Frankie like she was an angel sent from heaven.
I turned around and leaned back on my hands, pressing them against the cool granite counter. “Frankie, I’m serious. I can’t do this.”
She smoothed her hand down Juliet’s braids before looking over at me with a solemn expression. “Caro, you can. You’ve been hiding yourself for too long. You can’t lock yourself in this apartment forever.”
I stared at my little girl and knew that I could. Knew that I probably should. The world was an insidiously dark place. I knew more than most how many dangers lurked in the shadowed places. I could easily stay locked in this apartment to keep her safe… to save her.
To save me too.
Frankie walked over to me, deliberately blocking Juliet from my sight. She rested her hip on the kitchen island and softened her voice so Jules couldn’t hear everything.
“It’s just one date,” she reasoned. “It’s not a marriage proposal. He won’t even expect sex. You’re just going to an event that you want to go to anyway. That’s all.”
“I’m freaking out,” I whispered to her. “I can’t feel my face.”
Her lips twitched with a gentle smile. “You didn’t take something trippy did you?”
I glared at her. “Of course not.”
She leaned forward. “I wouldn’t blame you. Jesse is…” She trailed off to fan her face with her hand.
Her enthusiasm for my date did not help me settle down. Nobody was more aware of how long it had been since I’d been on one of these. And even back then… it wasn’t…
Well, it wasn’t this.
“I’m too old to date. Shouldn’t I be trolling the internet or resigning myself to my bedside drawer? This is ridiculous!”
“Oh my God, Caro,” she growled and laughed at the same time. “You’re twenty-five! You’re hardly facing a midlife crisis! Most girls our age are out every night.”
My gaze flickered back to Juliet. Determination mingled with the hysterical lunatic inside me. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my little girl.
And I just didn’t know if dating while she was so young was the right decision for her.
“Yeah, well, I’m not most girls.”
“You’re right,” Frankie agreed seriously. “You’re so much better.”
I returned my focus to my best friend of my entire life and smiled at her. Besides Juliet, she was the only family I had left. I would be lost without her.
“This is why I keep you around,” I said. “I need you to boost my self-esteem before I leave the house.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled out her cell phone. “You keep me around because I babysit for free and order enough pizza for you to eat when you come home.”
“Those things are also true.” My smile died when the buzzer once again blasted through the room. “Oh my God, that’s him.”
“You look hot, Caroline. Go have the best damn night of your life.” She slapped my butt as I shuffled to Juliet. I let out a squeak while Jules laughed at our antics.
“I love you, munchkin. Be good for Aunt Francesca or she’ll eat all of your pizza.”
“I’m always good for Aunt Francesca!” Juliet insisted.
“So it’s just me that gets the attitude?”
She smiled a smile that reminded me of my dad and I immediately wanted to lock her in her room for the rest of her life to save us all the trouble. “It’s just for you, Mommy. I know you love me the most.”
“This is true.” I kissed her nose and squeezed her tightly.
When the buzzer shrieked again, I reluctantly let her go and grabbed the clutch I’d bought earlier today that went perfectly with my dress. I hadn’t had anything more than an old Target tote and a hiking backpack lying around my apartment. I knew Jesse wouldn’t mind if I showed up in jeans, an old T-shirt and a Duct tape wallet, but if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. No more hiding behind the single mom version of me. Or the blending into the wall version. Jesse had gotten to know me over the years, maybe not all of me, but enough to want to take me out on a date. So out of respect for him and our friendship and these real, but terrifying feelings I had for him, I was done hiding.
At least in the existential meaning of the word.
In every other area of my life, I was still very much, very necessarily hiding.
I jabbed the button with my freshly painted nail and said, “Be right down!” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before shouting “I love you” a few times at Juliet, then hurried through the door.
I cursed my heels on the ride down the elevator. Before Juliet, heels had been like second nature to me. I had lived in them. Now I was like a fawn just learning how to walk—Bambi ice skating with Thumper. My old self hovered over my shoulder, silently judging me.
The elevator doors opened and I had to take a steadying breath at the sight of Jesse waiting for me. He stood hovering underneath the awning outside, avoiding the light rain falling on this autumn Colorado night.
I waved to Jesse when he caught sight of me through the clear glass. He shot me a bemused half-smile and I second-guessed this decision for the millionth time. What was I doing? I concentrated on not tripping on the wrinkled rug beneath my towering heels and leaned too hard on the push bar.
The door flew open and I careened dangerously from the building and would have face-planted on the rough concrete if Jesse’s large hands hadn’t been there to catch me.
“Whoa,” he murmured in that deep baritone drawl that had drawn me to him the first time I met him. “Are you okay?”
I blinked up at him, trying to find the answer to that question. His handsome face stared down at me in concern, but amusement twinkled in his brown eyes. “Sorry,” I squeaked. “I’m a little unsteady in these shoes.”
His eyes traveled the length of me, taking their time in a sweet kind of perusal. They finally found my shoes and one corner of his mouth kicked up in a crooked smile. “I can see why.”
“I haven’t worn heels in a long time,” I explained unnecessarily.
“Do you want to change?”
I shook my head, embarrassed that we were still talking about my walking problems and that he still held me so tightly in his arms. “I’m sure I’ll remember how they work. Like riding a bike, yeah?”
The other corner of his mouth joined the first in a genuine smile. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
He finished setting me upright and moved his hands to my shoulders to make sure I was steady. “I would have come up to get you.”
I took in the chiseled lines of his jaw and his strong Romanesque nose, the subtle curl of his golden-brown hair. His strong, corded neck looked so startlingly tan next to the white of his crisp oxford. “It’s okay,” I hurried to explain. “This is better.”
“Not ready for me to be up in your space?”
I shook my head. I was suddenly afraid that I’d offended him. Had I managed to ruin the night before it began?
That might set some kind of record.
“It’s okay,” he assured me smoothly. “I get it. You’re being a good mom.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and some of the panic that had been threatening to choke me all night eased. I didn’t let anyone into my space. Where Juliet and I lived was as much of a secret as I could manage it to be. I used Maggie’s on the Mountain for my address for everything. Not even the daycare had my real address. Phone number yes, but not place of residence. I wasn’t listed in the phone book or on the internet. Frankie was the same way. We were not ever careless with where we lived.
We were just as vigilant about Juliet. Maybe people saw us around town, but I didn’t advertise our life for any reason. We only invited a small, select group of people to get to know us—mainly it was just Maggie and Jesse for me. Frankie had a couple friends at work, but nobody she would bring back to our apartment.
Jesse and I had eased gently into friendship and stayed there for two years before he started pursuing me so intently. I trusted him as a friend. And I had tried to make sure we stayed firmly in the friend zone. But there was an attraction between us that I couldn’t deny anymore. And Jesse had obviously stopped denying it a while ago.
So here we were. On a date. He was looking better than I had ever seen him. He was calm and so cool—like he always was around me.
And I was trying not to flail my arms and run around in circles like a chicken with her head cut off.
I was jumpy about relationships for good reasons. My experience with men was either highly manipulative and predicated on lies or it was intensely codependent. When it came to men, I couldn’t trust myself to make smart decisions.
Jesse was a nice guy, but even after our long friendship, I still wasn’t sure I knew that much about him. As sweet as things had started with him, I couldn’t help but anticipate everything eventually going south. I was a pessimist waiting for the sky to fall, for Jesse to finally wake up and realize I wasn’t a catch—I was a walking disaster.
And I was an expert at running. Even if I stayed in Frisco, there were ways to run from Jesse and cut him out of my life entirely.
“Should we go?” he gestured toward his sleek black truck parked along the curb.
There was a short time in my life when I would have turned my nose up at a truck like Jesse’s. I would have expected something sporty. Something insanely expensive. I was used to men obsessed with money and nice things and having everything they wanted. Legally or illegally, it didn’t matter. I had been a part of a lifestyle that needed shiny things to prove their value. And maybe I had bought into the lie too. But I was free of that life now. My attention had shifted to things that had meaning.
Like the heat of Jesse’s hand on my lower back as he guided me along the sidewalk and the heady scent of his cologne. I listened to the low rumble of his smoky voice and let myself be present in this conversation only.
Those were the things that mattered. For the next few hours, those were the only things that mattered.
He opened the door for me and waited while I climbed up into the truck cab as gracefully as possible. I slid all the way in before he closed the door behind me. When he had crossed in front of the truck and taken his place in the driver’s seat, I finally found the courage to speak again.
“This is an interesting concept, yeah? Half-restaurant, half-gallery, half-bar.”
Art was my one weakness. It always had been.
And it always got me into trouble.
He smiled at the road as he drove thirty-five miles per hour through zero traffic. “That’s three halves.”
“This place must be magic then.”
He turned to stare at me for a long moment, the truck idling at a stop sign. “Magic, huh?”
I licked my dry lips and tried to breathe evenly. “Just an idea.”
“I like that idea, Caroline. And I like you. I’m glad you finally said yes.”
“Me too.”
My heart punched the inside of my chest at the same time my belly flipped. One of my internal organs calling the other a liar. A cheater. A thief. The other simply responded the way any woman would.
I don’t live in DC anymore, I whispered to my heart.
It shriveled two sizes to teach me a lesson. You might not live there, my heart whispered back, but I never left.
In a few more minutes we’d traveled the short distance of Main Street and pulled up in front of a sleek, white-washed brick building vibrant with people and opening night excitement. The light rain cast a dewy glow around the renovated structure, softening the edges and giving it a picturesque quality.
The place was packed, especially for Frisco. People milled all around the building, on the sidewalk in front of the building, around the side, huddled under table umbrellas in a charming little courtyard complete with quaint iron tables and a pergola covered in climbing flowers. The windows to the building were cracked open, spilling out the sound of music and laughter and buzzing chatter. Golden light lit up the inside, illuminating the pieces hanging on the walls and on free-standing displays around the open design space. Waiters hurried back and forth from the bar to the tables to the kitchen and back again.
The setting was perfect.
Completely perfect.
Jesse parked right on the street, down from the main entrance. He hurried around the front of the truck and opened the door for me, helping me down the significant jump to the ground. His hand landed on my waist once I’d hit the ground. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze dipping to my shoes.
“I’m great,” I told him sincerely. “This place is amazing.”
His smile stretched. “Let’s go have some fun, Caroline.” He looped my arm through his and led me to the entrance of The DC Initiative.
I relaxed against him, finally letting myself open up and enjoy this perfect evening. The occasional raindrop felt like a familiar kiss on my exposed skin. I took a deep breath and decided to enjoy tonight no matter the cost.
I had to start enjoying my life and stop looking over my shoulder constantly.
It was time to start forgiving myself for the decisions I was forced to make. It was time to bury the dead and find happiness in the land of the living.
Still, my feet faltered just before the front door, a gust of something ominous twirling through me. My mouth dried up as I faced the restaurant-gallery and acknowledged that letting Jesse take me inside would irrevocably change who I was as a person.
It would change every single thing about me.
It would truly be a step in moving on—a step I had once assumed I would never be able to take. Until now.
Until this man.
“Ready?” Jesse asked, his eyes twinkling with promise for the night.
“Ready,” I answered, finally… finally feeling ready.
Later I would realize what an absolute idiot I had been.