A Fine Mess (Over the Top) (18 page)

“I never back down from a challenge.” With a wink I push to my feet and help her up, dusting off her ass, because I’m nice like that.

She swats my arm, so I give her bottom a squeeze, our natural flirting lightening her mood. At my request she takes me on a tour of the house. More boxes. More
things
. We stop at Jim’s stuff, and I pull out a few items. When I touch his fishing hat, she tells me how he helped her reel in her first catch, and they nearly fell into the water.

I get why she shops, in a way, what drives her. The stories. The history. A link to people’s pasts. How the bits and pieces give her strength to cope when anxious. Hopefully, letting go is something she can manage. Hopefully, talking to a professional will help her, and hitting Meryl up for information will help me. I’ll spend a night on her couch while she affirms I can do this. That I won’t derail Lily’s progress. Lily will still struggle. For a while, at least. My job will be to keep her together, be there for her for the next few weeks. Help her heal. Make her laugh.

One step at a time.

Although it’s freezing, the sun is at high noon, bathing the city in gold as I leave my first therapy session. Talking to Dr. Renford wasn’t easy. It felt freeing to purge and open up in more detail than I have with Sawyer, but it was exhausting. The sunlight lifts my energy, and spotting Sawyer on a bench across the street erases any lingering heaviness. He’s wearing a cute black hat and one of my favorite Moondog jackets, slim but masculine. He waves when he sees me, his phone pressed to his ear.

When I reach him, he stands and pockets his cell. “So? How was it?” He takes my hands between his and blows on my cool fingertips, his warm breath heating my skin.

“Good. Hard, but good.”

“You liked her? Was she easy to talk to?”

“Yeah. I liked her.”

He pulls me away from the curb as a truck plows through some slush and nearly splashes us. “So you’ll go back? You think she can help you?”

Sawyer and his questions. He’s been psyching me up for this session the past two weeks, boosting my confidence and singing my praises. Going on about how brave I am, how strong to be asking for help. Plus, doing impromptu dances in my kitchen.

He puts on a good show, masking his worry with jokes. But he zones out, too, doubt in the firm set of his lips, when he thinks I’m not watching. His uncertainty is a tough pill to swallow, but I’ve dumped a load of baggage on his lap. The fact that he’s here, supportive and doing his best, tells me everything I need to know: we’ll make it through this.

“Hopefully,” I say. “She asked a lot about my shopping, about when I do it and what my triggers are. We talked a bit about my nana at the end and how I hold on to stuff. That was hard.”

Always is. Being in the farmhouse with Sawyer was terrifying, and when he asked if I was ready to get help, I glanced at a pair of Nana’s shoes, the white low heels she wore to every special occasion, and I nearly changed my mind. But I was tired of the lies, of losing control.

“It’s not like I feel different, but she said it’ll take time, that the urges may never go away completely, or might show up in other ways. She commented on how I was picking at my nails, how repetitive habits like that show levels of anxiety. She’ll give me techniques to cope, and if we don’t make enough progress, we can look at medication. Basically, she said I’m a”—I struggle to swallow—“…a compulsive shopper with hoarding tendencies, but she thinks we can work on it.”

The words sour on my tongue. They taste like failure and inadequacy, a pungent mix of humiliation and disgrace. But I hope she’s right. Leaving the farmhouse behind was harder than I’d expected. I hadn’t unpacked Jim’s things, hadn’t done my usual sorting. Even now, when I picture his belongings tucked in boxes, my heart races. “I guess we’ll see. I’ve committed to seeing her once a week for now, and when I move to Vancouver in a few months, she’ll refer me to someone else.”

Sawyer frowns, but only for a beat. The traffic continues its endless caravan, pedestrians hurrying by, scarves and hats worn to keep warm. He kisses my frosted fingers, wisps of vapor curling through his lips. “I like the sound of all that. I did some research, too, and found out something that could help.”

“Like what?”

“Apparently, giving blow jobs is great for anxiety.” He grins his Sawyer grin.

The man will never grow up. “Then I should be cured.”

Seriously, I should. We’ve been at my apartment for two weeks and have barely spent any of that time clothed. Our attraction is intense, but we’ve both been after distraction, too. When his skin slides against mine, our hips rocking in time, my issues vanish. It’s just him and me and a lot of orgasms. Sawyer wasn’t kidding about my dry spell ending in a monsoon.

He tugs me closer. “I’m just saying, a little extra here and there might be good for you.”

“Should I run that by Dr. Renford? Seek her medical opinion?”

He laughs. “Totally. She should know what she’s dealing with.”

I push onto my toes and press my lips to his cold cheek. “I know what I’m dealing with, and I’ll gladly go down on you when I visit in three weeks. Especially since you love to reciprocate.” The man has been insatiable the past two weeks.

Aside from having great sex, we’ve worked together at Moondog, sharing the design space, elevating each other’s creativity. I’ve never been so productive. Even between stolen kisses and one incident on the table, we’ve fleshed out new ideas and fixed sketches, pushing ourselves ahead of schedule. Living together has been natural, too. Him making coffee in the morning, me shopping for dinner, the two of us cooking and cleaning. Aside from one awkward moment when Ethan Goldstein asked me out our first day back at work, things have been effortless.

I wrap my arms around his waist, hating how many layers of clothing are between us. “I guess you have to go soon?”

He nods. “Flight leaves in three hours. I’d stay if I could, but they’re having issues with the production line. I’m not sure if it’s the fabric or the pattern. Either way, I have to get back. Plus, I’m having dinner at Finn and Meryl’s tonight.” Shadows cloud his eyes, the disquiet he tries to hide reappearing. It’s sweet, really. He’s probably worried leaving me will set me back. But we’ll talk every day, and I have a professional to call now. Someone to lean on if things get tough.

“Is something going on at Finn’s?”

“Nope,” he says quickly. “Just excited to see the twins. I’ve asked them to choreograph a dance number, so I can send you a video.”

I tip my head back, laughing. “I hope they dress you in something cute.”

He winks. “Real men wear pink tutus.”

God, I love him. “Sounds like a blast, but it sucks you’re leaving.”

That sobers him some. “It does, but I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“We’ll talk?”

“Yep. And I left a surprise for you on the bed.”

I give a small jump, eyes wide. “Really? What?”

“Damn, you’re cute.” He tightens his grip on my back. “But if I told you it would ruin the surprise.” Then he sighs. “You should go. If you’re late for lunch, Raven will get pissy with me.”

“So this is good-bye?”

“No. This is I’ll see you soon.” The sun reflects in his eyes, rings of gold and brown smiling at me, the clouds dispersed.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

He leans down, and I wriggle my arms from under his so I can clasp his neck. Our cold noses brush, chilled lips and warm tongues mingling. We kiss and kiss and kiss, not a care for the passersby, my belly turning a slow spin. We both whisper, “I love you” at the same time, then we smile.

“Maybe we have time for a quickie,” he says.

I pull away from him and walk backward. “I won’t be responsible for you missing your flight.”

He stands, unmoving. Then he shouts, “Tell Ethan Goldstein to fuck off for me.”

Giggling, I glance over my shoulder to make sure I don’t trip over something, then I blow him a kiss. I’m not sure Ethan’s recovered from Sawyer’s posturing, my new boyfriend a tad on the jealous side. The day Ethan asked me out, I told him Sawyer and I were an item, then Sawyer spent an hour boasting to his manager about his collection of swords. Ethan avoided me afterward.

Sawyer grins, then turns, hands stuffed in his pockets. He walks the opposite way to his car and doesn’t glance back. With each stride he takes, my heart squeezes, an emptiness left in his wake, but we’ll talk tonight. I hurry to my lunch date, eager to see Shay. It’s been a month since she moved to Vancouver, but her old boss, Hilary, is on vacation and asked Shay to cover for her. Shay was thrilled to help, especially since it would give us a week to hang out. Her timing couldn’t be better.

The girls are seated in the restaurant when I get there, but Shay jumps up and rushes me at the door. We squeal and hug, her thick curls nearly suffocating me.

I hold her at arm’s length. “You look gorgeous. Vancouver must be agreeing with you.”

Her hazel eyes flash, flecks of green and cinnamon glowing against her teal blouse. “Honestly, I’m loving it. And it’ll be even better when you’re there. But forget about me. I’m so excited for you and Sawyer. I need details.”

“No details unless I can hear, too,” Raven calls from our table.

Even though it’s freezing outside, she’s in the black Princess Leia T-shirt she bought the day after I broke up with Kevin. Black jeans. Black boots. Long, silky black hair. My favorite rocker chick. Cool indie tunes play, scents of melted cheese and fire billowing from a wood oven warming the place. I hurry over, kiss her cheek, and slide into the chair beside her while Shay sits opposite me.

Raven doesn’t waste time with small talk. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me, too. You know this means I have to replace you guys. I’ll have to find a new obnoxious friend who inhales food and skis like a champ, and one who’s a quiet, sweet shopaholic. It’s unfair.”

Shopaholic.
Blood rushes in my ears at the comment. It’s just a joke, the same teasing the girls always do, but it sets my pulse racing. I could come clean now, confess like I did with Sawyer and Dr. Renford, but I’m not ready to share with the girls yet. In time, yes. When I have a better handle on things, I’ll confess. Still, I don’t force a laugh or offer one of my fake smiles. I’m done rolling with their jokes.

Shay narrows her gaze at me, but doesn’t comment. She picks up a menu and says to Raven, “You’ll never replace us. Don’t even try. I’ll allow you to make new friends, but we will always be your homies. Maybe you should have our names tattooed on your sleeve.”

Raven stretches out her right arm and twists it, showing off her fresh ink, our names nowhere in sight. The black outlines curve around her skin, birds and waves rushing in swirls. I touch the design, rough and ready to scab. “Will you add color, or stick with black and gray?”

“Black and gray, baby. Color would mess with my wardrobe. It’ll take a few sessions for her to do the shading. Should be done by summer.”

“Your father would freak if he saw that.”

“My father couldn’t care less if I lived on the street. The man’s taken up residence at the racetrack. He’s pissed away most of their money, and I’m pretty sure my mother drinks the rest of it.”

I cringe. Raven had it rough growing up, her parents’ anger the most attention she got. The more they ignored her, the further she pushed her boundaries, until she ended up with community service. “You ever hear from your sister?”

She plays with her napkin, folding and unfolding it. “No. We were close when I was young. I mean, she basically raised me. But a ten-year age gap makes things tough, and she got away as soon as she could. Never looked back.”

A crash sounds behind us. We turn to witness a flustered waitress staring, ashen, at a shattered plate. Shay pokes her head up from behind her menu. “I hated waitressing. The tips helped pay for school, but the stress wasn’t worth it.” She puts down her menu. “You guys ready to order?”

Raven gestures between us. “Lily and I were actually having a conversation about my long-lost sister while you were memorizing today’s specials.” She faces me. “I was thinking of looking her up. Not sure it’s a good idea, but it’s like she’s all I have.”

I glance around the restaurant, at the patrons lining the wooden bar and the surrounding tables, jars of colorful preserves filling the wall. A family of four laughs as a young boy holds a napkin in front of his face, a nose and mouth drawn on the paper. Shay and I were lucky to have close families. Although I was an only child, I had my parents and my nana and my friends. I knew I was loved. Raven’s sister took care of Raven while their parents drank and gambled. Then her sister left.

“I think it would be cool for you to reconnect,” I say.

She shrugs. “We’ll see. And it doesn’t look like she’ll be easy to find.”

Shay leans on her elbows. “What about your job? Any closer to quitting? I think you need to move on from teaching and do something with your photography. Weddings or portraits, or something artsy. You’d kill it doing that, and you’d actually enjoy it.”

Raven waves a hand. “I don’t want to talk about my shitty job and shitty family. Change of topic, please.”

“Dating,” Shay says with a glint in her eyes. “What’s the latest?”

“I met a very nice boy last week.” Raven winks, playing along. “We had fun.”

“And?” I ask, hoping she won’t brush it off the way she always does, never dating, never looking for something real.

“And…the sex was hot.”

Shay scrunches her nose. “You need to go out, like on a proper date where a guy takes you to dinner and you talk before he sees you naked.”

Raven cackles. “Really? So I can hang out with dudes like the Blinker who took you out before Kolton? Thanks, but no thanks.”

Shay blinks repeatedly. “Come on.”
Blink.
“He wasn’t so bad.”
Blink.
“I could set you up.”
Blink, blink, blink.

We crack up as our waiter approaches. “You ladies ready to order?”

Shay looks up, and her jaw drops, a quiet “Jesus” coming from Raven beside me. I’m not sure how I missed this man when I arrived, but he is Ian Somerhalder gorgeous. He raises a dark eyebrow, his ice-blue eyes piercing.

Shay points to Raven. “She’ll have one of you. Lily and I are, unfortunately, taken.”

Raven bites her lip, a half snort swallowed as she schools her features. “I don’t know these women. They just sat at my table.”

He blushes, his tan skin coloring under his dark scruff. Seriously gorgeous.

“Sadly, I’m off the menu.” He raises his left hand. “My wife wouldn’t approve. But I have friends who would jump at that offer.”

Raven drops her hands and scowls at Shay, her thick bangs framing her squint. “I take back what I said about being pissed you moved away. Good riddance.”

Shay winks at her, then faces our waiter. “We’ll talk.” To us she says, “I’m ready to order, if you guys are.”

Raven mouths something I can’t see to Shay while I stifle a laugh. This is exactly what I need, time with my girls. The hollowness in my gut from Sawyer’s departure fills, laughs easing my jittery nerves. In a few months, I’ll be in Vancouver, living with the man I love, and Shay will be there, too. Everything is coming together, and my therapy will help the transition. I roll out my tense shoulders.