Two days passed without contact from Collier. I finally came clean with my friends, and in turn, they’d all rallied around me, offering their support. Beck tried to talk to her brother but hadn’t gotten anywhere and told me just to give him some time. I resigned myself to whatever happened, but I couldn’t stop thinking of him. Something happened after I finally admitted to West how deep my feelings ran. Everything I’d been pushing away in an attempt to deny any attraction to him was now front and center—with my friends, Collier, and in my mind.

Work left me wanting to knock my head against a wall. The hours alone turned into mind-numbing internal browbeatings. I second-guessed every interaction I had with Collier since the day we’d met, trying to determine when and where I could have worked a confession into the situation. No matter how much I had thought about it, I couldn’t come up with an answer. From the first time I’d met him, to the times he’d been there with me crying, and everything in between, West and I just…were. I was comfortable in his presence, and for once, I hadn’t felt the need to share my past or bare my soul. He accepted me as I was, flaws and all, and even in my sordid mess of sexual confusion, he just enjoyed being around me, and me him. There was never a time I wanted to give that up. I realized now that was selfish, but it seemed to work for both of us then.

Every time my phone rang, my heart raced with anticipation, only to crash when I realized it wasn’t him. My friends meant well by checking on me constantly, but none of them soothed the emptiness I felt not hearing his voice or seeing his name on my phone. It was irrational, we’d gone days before without talking—hell, we’d never even shared an intimate moment—but all I could think about was what I’d lost in my ploy to gain something different. The grass wasn’t greener on the other side of the fence, it was just AstroTurf someone had laid down to give the illusion of perfection.

My phone rang for the fifteenth time today, and once again, disappointment clouded my judgment when Ronnie’s name appeared on the caller ID.

“Hey, V. What’s up? It’s been at least an hour since we last talked.” If she couldn’t hear the sarcasm and irritation in my voice, then she was a moron.

“You know, most people would appreciate their friends’ concern. Not you. Luckily for you, none of us care what you want because we know what you need.”

I blew on my nails as my latest coat of OPI “Berlin There, Done That” dried, and I listened to my bestie’s plot to fix my life. “And what would that be?” I turned my hand to inspect my polish job, proud of my work.

“Night out on the town.”

“It’s the middle of the week. Where is it you think we’re going?”

“You need to get back out there. Back on the hetero-hunt.”

“I don’t want another male, Ronnie. And I screwed up the only one I had any interest in. Can’t we just let this settle down? It will be easier to suffer alone than to parade around like I’m single and interested.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to vote. You can’t sit around moping. Trish is out of town on business, Roma and Stella are working, so it’s just me, Roxie, and Beck.”

“Where’s Amy?”

“I don’t know. Who cares? The point is that it’s just the four of us, and we can have fun. I don’t want to worry about coming to your house and finding you high from nail polish fumes or buried face first in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.”

“They’re really the only men I should bother with at this point.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight. Be ready. If you’re not, I’m just going to drag you out in whatever you have on. That could go all kinds of horribly wrong for you, so don’t fuck with me, Gizzy.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“See you later.”

As promised, Ronnie showed up at eight o’clock. I didn’t do much to get ready. I hadn’t even bothered to freshen up my makeup. Jeans and a fitted T-shirt were as fancy as it was going to get.

“Wow, you’re really not aiming to impress, are you? I don’t remember seeing you this bad off since Mark Mangus junior year.”

“I told you I didn’t want to go out. You insisted. You get what you get.” I shrugged to show my indifference, and she grabbed my hand to pull me to the car.

Inside the vehicle sat my closest girls. It was funny how tight we’d become in a relatively short amount of time. Ronnie and I had known each other since Jesus was a baby, but the others didn’t become part of our tribe until a few months ago…now, I couldn’t imagine my life without them. I’d even developed a liking for their significant others…for the most part. But I had to admit, it was nice to think I was getting the core of our group minus the additions.

They sang out my name in a chorus of welcomes when I slid into the back seat next to Beck. She grabbed my hand with a gentle squeeze and offered me a soft smile. “Hey, girly.”

I placated her with a half-hearted grin, but all I really wanted to do was go back inside, put on my comfies, and veg out in front of the television. If things got really rowdy at home, I could get totally reckless and pick an obnoxious color of OPI to shake things up and make me grin. What I didn’t want to do was drown myself in empty calories at a bar. And regardless of what Ronnie said, dancing and sweating didn’t burn off the toxins or the carbs in each glass.

Ronnie made eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. “Stop being so negative, Gizzy.”

I grimaced in confusion. “I didn’t say anything?”

“You didn’t have to. That vibe is just oozing off you. And, by the way, it’s not attractive. Try to smile. You add ten years to your appearance when you frown.”

The cheap shot at my age was just a low blow to get a rise out of me. I contemplated arguing with her, but the sooner we got this charade over with the sooner I could welcome a hot bath and fuzzy slippers in my own home.

The three of them chatted it up while I stared out the window on our way to who knew where. I didn’t hear much of what they said and only half recognized where we were. This wasn’t a big town, but there were still parts of it that weren’t familiar. I wasn’t aware of any bars or clubs on this side of town, it was primarily residential. I was shocked when Ronnie pulled into a driveway instead of a parking lot.

“Where are we?” I finally piped up.

“We thought we’d do something a little more fun than getting sloppy with people we don’t know on a work night. Plus, you said you weren’t interested in hunting for pig.” Beck was far too excited. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the car.

“And that means what?” I questioned again.

“That means you’re finally going to meet Mama Betsy.” Roxie beamed as though she’d just presented me with the Publisher’s Clearing House check.

“Who’s Mama Betsy?” One of these days, one of these heifers would answer my question.

“My psychic,” Beck said those two words as if she were referring to her hairdresser or nail tech.

“Who the hell has a psychic?” Shocked, I didn’t know how else to phrase the question, and now my friend appeared offended.

Ronnie interrupted before Beck could answer. “Just have an open mind, Gizzy. This is supposed to be fun, not life-defining.”

The smile returned to Collier’s sister’s face, and a part of me ached when I stared into the eyes I’d missed so much. The two twins were clearly related. They looked enough alike that no one would doubt their lineage. But their eyes haunted me. I loved the way those same green irises took me in when they were on the face of her sibling.

“I’ve been coming to see Betsy since I was in high school. I met her in a self-help class I took, and she’s been a special part of my life ever since.”

“Was she teaching the class?” I couldn’t help but snort at the thought. A psychic could totally capitalize on the needs of others if she were indeed legit. If not, she would be the biggest con-artist and roll in some serious cash.

Beck rolled her eyes. “No, silly. It was a workshop on positive thinking and changing your perspective by changing your mind.”

Laughing at my friend wouldn’t make this any better, but it sounded like a load of hogwash.

“Seriously, Giselle. Don’t be such a downer. Even if you don’t believe in any of this, you can still have fun going through it and listening to us have our cards read. Plus, Mama Betsy is by far the best cook I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t skimp on the wine. The spread alone is worth coming for.”

I’d never been to a medium. I’d seen them on television, and they fascinated me, but I’d never admit that to anyone. Here I stood with the opportunity in front of me, and I wanted to make the most of it. With my mind made up, I grabbed Beck’s hand and said, “You’re right. Open mind. And I’m always down for wine.”

I didn’t have time to prepare for this, but what I encountered wasn’t what I’d expected. Although, I wasn’t sure what I had thought we’d see when we went into her house. It was modest from the outside, middle-class, nice yard, and there was a swing on the front porch. But nothing indicated a clairvoyant lived or worked here. There was no neon sign, and the woman who answered the door wasn’t wearing one of those funny little hats on her head that looked like a swami.

She was five foot nothing, petite, and I instantly felt at home in her presence. The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the aroma of chocolate chip cookies flowed out onto the stoop where we stood, waiting to be invited in.

The smile Betsy greeted us with warmed my soul and fed me in a way I’d never eaten before. She engulfed Beck in a motherly hug, and then without so much as addressing Roxie or Ronnie, she moved Beck aside and zeroed her gaze in on me.

“You must be Giselle.” Clearly, my friend had filled her in on the crew she’d be bringing by.

I didn’t know how to respond other than nod. But Mama Betsy didn’t stop there. She nudged her tiny frame past my friends, extending both her hands as she approached me. Not knowing what to do, I glanced at Beck who might as well have had cartoon hearts in her eyes. With no help from her, I gave Mama Betsy a shaky smile and allowed her access to my fingers.

“I’m so glad you’re all here.” She dropped my hands as quickly as she’d taken them, and then turned to the others to corral us inside. “Come in. Come in.”

Her house looked like any other. I didn’t see any curtains in odd places or crystal balls to tell the future or pots with odd brews and smoke rising off the surface. I nudged Beck and whispered into her ear, “Where’s her eye of newt and black cat?”

Beck stopped in her tracks, allowing the other girls to follow after Mama Betsy. “She’s not a witch, Giselle.” My friend looked at me as though I was a moron just before she rolled her eyes.

I ignored Beck and caught up with Roxie and Ronnie on the heels of our hostess. Within minutes, we were all huddled around the bar in her kitchen giggling about nothing with glasses of some of the best wine I’d had in ages. Betsy had laid out a spread of cheeses and crackers, but the baked desserts were screaming at me to taste them. I tried not to make eye contact with the treats, but the pull of the sugar dragged my attention away from the conversation repeatedly. Carbs would be my undoing. And these were the worst possible kind—they were buried in fat and covered in icing. Every single brownie, cookie, and little cake was nothing but a temptation masquerading as pleasure. Bastards.

Betsy must have noticed my visual affair with the platter. Without so much as a word in my direction, she continued talking to the other girls while taking a miniature cake from the tray, placing it on a silver napkin, and sliding it across the counter in front of me. Unable to resist, I picked up the little slice of heaven and bit it in half. The moan that escaped my mouth stopped the hum of conversation, and all heads turned in my direction. A genuine smile, the first in over a week, lifted the corners of my mouth, and my taste buds sang a chorus in perfect harmony. That one bite had been worth the trip across town and the extra mile I’d have to run tomorrow.

“Stop calculating the distance you have to jog to burn that off, and just enjoy it, Gizzy.” There were times I hated how well Veronica knew me.

Before the night was over, we’d all had our tarot cards read, guzzled too much wine, and the others had eaten their weight in food. Beck, Roxie, and Ronnie listened with rapt attention as Betsy spoke, telling them what each card meant. They hung on her every word. But I couldn’t recall a single thing she’d said to me, or a card I’d pulled, or what they’d meant. All I knew for certain was, Mama B had renewed my spirit just being around her, interacting with her. I half wondered if she’d baked pot into her cake I was on such a high.

We should have left hours ago, but none of us made any motion toward the door. Instead, we acted like teenagers having a slumber party. When we finally called it a night, I was relieved the conversation had never ventured into my current dilemma or relationships at all. It had been exactly what I needed.

I should have known better than to think I’d escaped the interference of my friends just because it hadn’t happened at Betsy’s house. They caught me off guard in the car on the way back home. We dropped Roxie off first because she lived closest and then Beck was next on the list. But the moment Roxie closed the door, Beck turned around in the front seat to face me.

“I wish you’d talk to him, Giselle.”

I released a long sigh. “It’s not me who isn’t talking, Beck. Collier said he needed time to think. I’m just trying to give him that.”

“Boys are stupid. They don’t have a clue what they need. My brother leads the pack in relationship ignorance, and you need to educate him.”

“What does that even mean?” I didn’t know how much Beck knew. I hadn’t told her anything and didn’t think Collier had either, but I wouldn’t put it past Ronnie to share the depths of my embarrassment.

“It means he’s been miserable for over a week. He’s back to his controlling ways and the yelling…my God, no one needs to hear that. And somehow, I’m back on his radar. Whatever happened can’t be that bad.”

“I kissed him, Beck.”

“You would have had to lick him like a dog for him to have lost interest, Giselle.”

“Maybe you could hump his leg or send him nudey pics. Guys love that shit, right?” Ronnie decided now was the time to add to the conversation. “Or how about show up on his front door in nothing but lingerie?”

“Are we talking about shit that would turn Collier on or that would appeal to you, V? Because from where I’m standing, if he wasn’t interested in kissing me, he sure as hell doesn’t want me leaving a trail on his leg.”

“You’re so foul, Giselle. You know men don’t like ladies who talk like their friends?” Again, Ronnie with all her experience with the opposite sex was giving me relationship advice.

“I’ve never met a man who doesn’t like for a woman to talk trash.” I raised my brow, waiting for one of the two lesbians to retort.

“When his face is between your legs, that’s probably true, but that’s where they keep the freak…between the sheets.”

I didn’t have words for these two. Beck had her brother’s interest at heart, and Ronnie had mine, but together, it was just a disaster waiting to happen.

“I’ll figure it out. Okay?” I felt like a broken record.

We pulled in behind Collier’s car, and I fought the need to get out and plead with him to talk to me. Beck got out, and I assumed the front seat, but before I closed the door, she stopped me.

“His light’s on. Do you want to come in?”

“Thanks, Beck, but I need to do this my way.”

“I’m here if you need me. You know I’ll help if I can.”

Gone was my cake high and a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach replaced it. I closed the door and waved goodbye. When Ronnie drove around Collier’s car, I chanced a glance up at the illuminated window, but it was empty. Just like me.

I dug my phone out of my purse, not sure what I wanted to say, but desperate to reconnect with him in any way. I typed out the words as quickly as they came to mind and hit send before I could back out.

Me: I’m sorry. I miss you.

There had been no response by the time I got home and climbed into bed. I refused to cry myself to sleep, but my eyes filled with tears on more than one occasion before my brain finally gave in to rest, and I closed my eyes.

The next morning, while I was out running, I made up my mind. I wasn’t going to let Collier slip through my fingers without a fight. It had been me who hadn’t given him an accurate picture, and it would be me who had to win him over. Somehow, I had to show him what he meant to me…that I was exactly the girl he knew. Now the only question that remained was how to make that happen.

I tried calling him when I got out of the shower, knowing he’d be on his way to work, but I got his voicemail. I left a message as though nothing had changed in hopes he’d return my call. When he didn’t relinquish the ban on speaking by lunch, I tried to text him again. Being honest hadn’t worked last night, so maybe the damsel in distress might appeal to his inner alpha.

Me: I’m sitting on the side of I-78 with a flat tire.

Collier: Don’t you have AAA?

It wasn’t the response I had hoped for, but at least he had responded.

Me: Nah, I couldn’t spring for the extra $3 on my insurance per month. But I do have this amazing friend with a rockin’ red Porsche that I’d bet money isn’t in need of repair.

I was desperate. And at this point, I’d slash my own tire if it would give me five minutes with him. Although, I didn’t have a knife and would probably get arrested for vandalizing my own property.

Collier: Do you really have a flat?

My days of misleading Collier were over. I couldn’t lie to him…I’d done enough of that already.

Me: No…but I could. Have you seen the condition of our roads in this state? Someone really should contact a senator.

I waited for his response, but none came. The afternoon turned into a brainstorming session of excuses to get Collier to my house. Nothing I came up with seemed plausible, and based on his aloof reply this afternoon, my next attempt would have to be valiant…but truthful.

When I got home, the quiet evening ate away at me. I tried to clean, but all that did was destroy my nails. I cranked up the stereo to lose myself in music, but every song that played reminded me of him. Finally, I broke down and warmed up leftovers in the microwave. Each bite was worse than the last, and nothing in my fridge appealed to me. I pushed the remains of my meal down the garbage disposal and turned it on. Instead of the drain clearing, water started to back up into the sink. My initial response was panic until whatever was lodged in the blades cleared, but not before it gave me an idea.

My mind raced a mile a minute trying to think of things I could shove into the drain to jam the disposal so far beyond my ability to fix it that he’d have to come to my rescue. Food wouldn’t work. I tried paper, and it shredded the sheets as easily as it would vegetables. But fabric wasn’t quite as forgiving or destructible as perishables.

I raced up the stairs to my room in search of anything I was willing to part with in order to get Collier here. T-shirts were too thick, and there was no logical explanation for how they’d end up in my sink. Same with jeans and shorts. But panties…panties needed to be hand washed, and the sink was the perfect place to do it. Riffling through my underwear drawer, I found several pairs I didn’t mind losing to the cause, and with a smile on my face, I trotted back down to the kitchen.

My fingers clutched the satin and lace while I hovered in front of the sink. I took a deep breath in, and then one by one, I stuffed each of the five pairs deep into the hole. I turned on the water to ensure they wouldn’t just swirl around, and then I flipped the switch. The motor came to life, but instead of the garbage disposal whirring and grinding, it hummed with a high-pitched squeal and stopped.

Pleased with myself, I raised up on my toes and bounced before grabbing my phone off the counter.

Me: My garbage disposal is clogged. Can you come by and look at it?

I hit send and held the phone in my hand, waiting for it to light up with his agreement to save me. Several long minutes had passed before the beep sounded.

Collier: Plumbers typically deal with those types of things.

Me: It’s after hours. That will cost me a fortune.

The waiting was killing me. I wanted to be upset with him. He’d always been very responsive, and it felt like he was intentionally playing games.

Collier: Gibson Plumbing is sending someone out. The guy should be there in the next thirty minutes.

Me: I can’t afford that.

Collier: I gave them my credit card number. It’s taken care of.

So he cared enough to buy my way out of trouble but not come on his own. It hurt, but maybe it was progress.

Me: I’m not comfortable with a strange man in my house at night. It’s not safe.

Collier: Giselle, I don’t have time for this. He’ll be there shortly. Let him in to fix the sink.

Ugh. I hated this side of Sybil. If we ever got back on speaking terms, I had to figure out a way to put that personality to rest—no one needed to experience it, especially not me. The bubbles appeared on the screen and went on forever. I stood there waiting for his next message, but they stopped, and another message never came. It dawned on me, a plumber would be standing in my kitchen in roughly twenty minutes, and I had a garbage disposal bogged down in Victoria’s Secret’s finest thongs. With my luck, the man who showed up to bail me out would either be hot as sin who would imagine me in the shredded garment or some gnarly old man who would keep them to sniff later. Both creeped me out.

I desperately started clawing at the sink, shoving my hand in to try to pull the wet material back out the same way I’d stuffed it in. But by the time the doorbell rang, I had roughly half of one pair of twelve dollar panties in my fist, and the other four and a half pairs were still tightly wound around the blade of the garbage disposal. With one hand still trying to rip at the lace, and the other on the counter for leverage, I finally dropped my head on the counter harder than I intended when the chime came again.

My hands were wet, and the right was covered in some substance I was afraid to try to identify. I needed to disinfect the drain, the brown gunk under my nails was disgusting. My nails. Oh God, my poor nails. Not only had I ruined the polish, but I’d also broken three of them on my right hand and two on my left. They snagged on the kitchen towel I used on my way to let the plumber in.

Mortified. Embarrassed. Flustered. The list of words to describe what I was feeling ran a mile long. There was no way in hell I could explain how five pairs of panties had met their demise. But I swung the door open just the same. There on my porch stood a man who could have doubled for Luke Bryan, right down to the Southern twang.

“Hey, darlin’. I’m Chance. What seems to be the trouble tonight?”

Kill me now.

He bent over to put white booties on over his shoes to protect my floors, and his ass was every bit as delectable as the country star. In any other circumstance, I’d send up a word of thanks to the big man upstairs for this eye candy…but tonight, I just groaned.

Karma hated me.

“Garbage disposal.” I turned, leaving the front door open, and assumed he’d follow me to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had an after-hours call for a garbage disposal.”

I wasn’t interested in idle chitchat. If I could have found a rock, I would have crawled under it.

“Is it clogged or did it just stop working?” he asked as he set his tools down and stepped up to the sink.

“Clogged.”

“Vegetable peels?” he guessed.

“No.”

Chance turned to face me. “Egg shells?”

“Uh-uh.”

“You just going to let me keep guessin’?” He winked a brown eye in my direction and displayed a grin that I was sure had panties dropping on the regular. But all it did was cause my cheeks to flush with embarrassment, and not from his flirting.

“Fabric.” I acted like I only knew ten words and was afraid to use them all at once. Before long, I’d just resort to grunting instead of forming syllables.

“Fabric…” He drew out those six letters like he hadn’t understood them.

“Yes.”

“Like a dishtowel?”

“No. Panties.” I cringed. “I’d prefer not to offer an explanation. Can you just fix it?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

I died a thousand deaths sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him to undo the damage I’d caused. If only it were that easy with Collier. He had me sign a bill but told me it would be charged to the card the dispatcher had taken and said goodnight. When I closed and locked the door behind him, I threw myself onto the couch and prayed for the day to end. My measly attempts to engage Collier had proven to be fruitless. It was time to up my game. Staring at my tattered fingernails, I formulated a plan.