One by one, I gently place my feet on the basement stairs, cringing every time one creaks. Despite my pounding heart and the fear that I’m feeling, whatever, or whoever is down here, will be facing the aluminum end of the bat clutched tightly in my fist when I find him.
As soon as I make it to the bottom of the stairs the door flings open and…
“Ah!” I jump out of my office chair and scream when my phone rings. Grabbing it, I don’t recognize the number which just freaks me out more. “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” I yell into the receiver.
The female voice on the other end remains calm. “Uh, it’s Joie and what I want is my ear drum back now that you blew it out of my head screaming.”
Clutching my chest to try and calm my racing heart, I collapse back into my hair. “Ohmygod. I’m so sorry, Joie. You scared me.”
“Really. I hadn’t noticed.” Unsurprisingly, I sense sarcasm in her tone. “What are you doing that caused you to react like that to a phone call?”
Dropping my head on the desk, I continue trying to get my breathing under control. I recognize the ridiculousness of the situation. I’m never going to hear the end of it once she tells Jack about it. “I’m working.”
“Uh huh. I’m guessing there’s more to it than that.”
Scrunching my nose, I fess up to my less than stellar idea. “I picked up a new client who writes thrillers. And, well, I don’t do scary.”
“What do you mean you don’t do scary? How scary is scary?”
I begin ticking it all off on my fingers. “All the lights are on, all the blinds are open, it’s the middle of the day, I’m currently listening to Jingle Bell Rock and I still screamed when my phone rang.”
“Oh my. That is bad,” she says, not even trying to hide how hard she’s laughing. “Why did you agree to do this if you knew you were going to be scared?”
Because I’m an idiot, I think to myself. “Because I had to turn down a few jobs when we moved so I wanted to get back on track.”
“Greer.” Joie’s tone turns motherly. “If you’re struggling to make ends meet, you need to let us know. Jack and I can help out while you get settled.”
I smile, even though she can’t see me. “I appreciate the offer, but I promise we’re doing okay financially. I just meant I need to keep my name out there and making sure the community knows I’m active with my business. The second these Indie authors think you’re no longer working, they find someone else to do the job instead.”
“That’s good to know. But the offer still stands any time.”
“And I appreciate it.” Swiveling in my chair, I relax into the seat and lean back to look at the ceiling, resting my shoulders. “Anyway, what’s going on with you guys? I assume this is a pleasure call?”
She giggles and I can only imagine where her brain has gone—the same place mine did the second she started laughing. It’s an industry hazard when you edit romance books. You end up with the humor of a twelve-year-old boy. Oli was one just a few years ago and his giggles used to come at the same types of conversations.
Joie finally clears her throat and suppresses her laughter. “That depends on what you choose to do with my offer.”
I crinkly my brow. “Your offer? You have my full attention.”
“The Vikings have a home game this weekend. I would love to take Oli and Julie to the game on Saturday and then they could spend the night with Jack and me. Maybe go to a movie Sunday afternoon before bringing them home that evening.”
Sitting up in my chair, the idea of having a little bit of freedom for a whole twenty-four hours makes me really excited. It’s been, gosh, I don’t even know how long since I’ve had that much time away from the kids. Not that I don’t love them and love being around them, but I could use some time to not be in supervisor mode. I could take a nap. Or see a movie. Or work.
Scratch that. I’m not working during a momcation. The possibilities feel endless.
Still, years of feeling like I’m being judged for my parenting abilities make it hard to let go. “Are you sure you want to? You know how Oli can get and I…well, I can never guarantee he’ll be on his best behavior.”
“I know. We both know. But I’ve been reading up on de-escalation techniques and Jack will be there.”
“But during the game—”
“—Jack will be just a couple rows away if it comes down to it. But I don’t think it will.”
I bite my lip and try to tamp down my own personal insecurities. I’m here in Flinton for a reason… to be closer to my brother and have a small support system. I need to take advantage of the opportunity for Oli’s sake, but also for my own.
“They would love that,” I quickly respond before I change my mind. “But make sure you lock up all your electronics that night. Oli’s, uh… well, he’s struggling with sticky fingers again.”
“Again?” she asks and I know she’s not being judgmental, just a concerned almost-aunt.
“Yeah. He’s struggled with it before. Dumb things like picking up a cell phone if he sees it and hiding away to download games. We usually have it pretty under control but I think maybe he has some anxiety from me dating, or left over from moving or something. I never really know what triggers his setbacks, just try to push through them.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her to change her mind about having the kids visit, but I shouldn’t underestimate her. “Well, that’ll be easy. I have a small fire proof safe in my closet for important papers. I’ll just store everything in there for the night.”
Letting go of that breath, I feel nothing but relief. “Thank you, Joie. It’ll be nice to have a night off.”
“And,” she singsongs, “this way you can go on a date with that hunky cowboy you’ve been seeing. Maybe you should pack an overnight bag. Just in case.”
My jaw drops open at her insinuation because, holy cow. I could get some sex.
I start making a mental list of what I need to do before this weekend. Pedicure. Bikini wax. Rewind the clock and spend two years in the gym prepping for this opportunity.
Okay, so hindsight is 20/20, but at least I can get the nails and waxing done.
“Greer?” Joie’s voice cuts through the line. “So that’s a definite yes?”
“Yes!” I practically yell making Joie laugh again. “I mean, that would be great, thank you.”
“That’s what we’re here for, Greer. It’s why Jack was hoping for so long that you would move close. We know how hard it is… well, Jack does. I haven’t been around very long, so I’m just now learning what it all entails. But I’m guessing the last date you had was last month when Jack babysat? When you went dancing?”
I bob my head from side to side because she’s right, but she’s wrong, too. We talk on the phone every night and we’ve seen each other at least twice a week for over a month. Sometimes it’s lunch. Sometimes it’s a matinee. Sometimes it’s a coffee. But lately it’s always ended with a make out session. Depending on where we are, maybe even some heavy petting. Of course I don’t tell Joie any of that.
“The last time we went out at night was then. But Ace has been really sweet, trying to meet up during the day sometimes, too. He has to come to town for supplies and stuff about once a week, so we try to do lunch. He took me to get snow cones at this really great little shack on the side of the road.”
“Oh I’ve seen that place! I wonder if they’re still open.”
“Nope. Closed for the season. I wanted to take the kids the very next day but they were already shut down.”
“That’s a bummer. Now I’m craving a snow cone.” I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me. Partially because Joie is funny, but mostly because of the nerves that are suddenly over taking me.
Am I ready for this? Am I ready to spend the night with Ace? I think I am. I like him that much. But it’s been so long. Surely it’s like riding a bike, right? Well not a bike, but like riding…
I giggle again because, twelve-year-old boy humor.
“Um, that wasn’t funny?”
“What? Oh. Sorry, Joie. I got lost in my thoughts. What did you say?”
“I asked if noon was too early to pick them up. I’ll take the kids to lunch and maybe we can walk around the tailgating party in the parking lot before the gates open for the game?”
“Yeah. Yeah, noon would be fine.”
“Okay,” she announces. “I’ll pick them up then. And Greer,” she adds. “Enjoy taking some time for yourself. Even if you don’t go on a date, you’re not allowed to work.”
How is it possible for her to know me that well, already? My automatic instinct is to always work when I don’t have to keep a close eye on anyone else.
“I promise,” I reply. “I won’t work. I’ll take a nice, refreshing nap instead.”
We work out more of the details, like how the kids need to dress for the game and the medications Oli is taking. When we hang up, I stare at my phone for a while, thinking.
Am I really going to do this? Am I going to make the first move?
No. I don’t want to be presumptuous. What if Ace already has weekend plans?
But what if he doesn’t?
Decision made, I grab my phone and open my text messages.
Me: My brother and his girlfriend are going to keep the kids Saturday night. You wouldn’t happen to already have plans would you?
Placing my phone back on my desk, I nod once and mentally pat myself on my back for being cool about all this. While I wait, this is a good time to get back to editing. I’m not sure I can be engaged enough in the story for it to feel as scary, so I continue reading.
As soon as I make it to the bottom of the stairs the door flings open and Pumpkin, our cat saunters through.
Lowering my bat, I lean down to pet him. “What are you doing you silly cat. Are you the one making the noise down here?”
Out of nowhere, I hand grabs the back of my neck and…
“Ah!” I jump out of my chair and scream when my phone pings. “Dammit! Is that going to happen every time?”
Picking up my phone, I’m still breathing heavily as I open the text. It’s from Ace.
Now I’m breathing heavily with anticipation about what he’s going to say, not just because White Christmas isn’t buffering my fear factor at all.
Stupid, useless Christmas carols.
Ace: I have no plans at all, unless you consider taking you out as plans.
Me: If that’s your way of asking me on a date, I accept.
Watching the three little dots start and stop, my anxiety ratchets up a notch. Is he thinking the same thing I am? Is he just busy and I’m distracting him? I want to distract myself from waiting for whatever it is he’s about to say, but I’m not sure continuing with this edit while the kids are gone is a good idea.
I snort a laugh at my own ridiculousness. Because waiting for my teenaged children to come home and protect me from the hand that just grabbed her at the bottom of the stair case makes so much sense. Besides, I should be able to finish this in the next few hours before they come home right? I’m on page…
“Fifty-seven of one hundred and eighty?!”
Groaning, I lean back and look at the ceiling again. Why did I think this was a good idea? It’s going to take me three more days to finish at this rate, and I’ll have nightmares for twice that long.
My phone finally alerts me of another text.
Snatching it up as fast as humanly possible, I have to read it three times to make sure I’m not seeing things.
Ace: Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to pack an overnight bag?
Biting my bottom lip, I try really hard not to squeal with excitement. Ace wants me to spend the night.
I’m going to have sex.
I think.
Well, crap. Now I’m being presumptuous.
Me: Not presumptuous at all.
Ace: Good. I’m in the middle of cleaning stalls right now, but I’ll get with you later tonight to work out some details, if that’s okay with you.
Me: Perfectly okay. Talk to you then.
Placing my phone back down, I’m practically giddy with excitement. I don’t know what will happen Saturday night but it never hurts to plan ahead.
Pulling up Yelp, I scroll until I find what I’m looking for, pick up my phone again and dial the number.
“Um, yes, I’d like to schedule an appointment for a bikini wax,” I say when the receptionist picks up.
Nope. Doesn’t hurt to plan ahead at all.