Page 4 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him I’d gone for Cousin Georgia’s address. I’d already kicked myself over it. I didn’t need any help. Anna could have written the address out for me again. No water involved. But still, Beckett here didn’t have to be an ass when I was clearly freezing and already embarrassed beyond repair.
I couldn’t imagine treating a practical stranger like this, let alone someone I had to work with for the foreseeable future. Maybe he didn’t recognize me from the conference room. Maybe the wet hair skewed the picture he’d stored away as my mental profile picture. Or, more likely, he’d met dozens of people today at his new job and couldn’t possibly remember all those faces. Good. Then, I could treat him like a stranger instead of a slightly superior coworker.
“It wouldn’t have covered half the bill for that shirt, I know,” I said sharply. Beck opened his mouth, but I didn’t want to hear it. He’d stolen my promotion. I wouldn’t let him steal the last crumbs of my dignity. My bag still waited by the tree. I shouldered it. “Well, this has been fun.”
“Wait. I’m sorry. I—” His gaze dipped, and I followed it to my floral, now translucent blouse. I slapped an arm over my breasts and glared back at Beck, but he’d at least had the decency to avert his eyes. “I have a jacket in my car,” he said to the sky. “I can go get it for you.”
“No need. I’m headed straight home if that wasn’t obvious.” The strap of my bag dug into my shoulder, but I managed to shift it while keeping the other arm safely pressed against my boobs. “But thanks. You’re my hero in damp Egyptian cotton.” I had to work against the violent chattering of my teeth.
I didn’t so much as spare him another glance, but I could feel the weight of his gaze as I forced my legs toward the parking garage, leaving watery footprints in my wake.
Chapter 2
When I got to my Prius, I blasted the heater and unfolded the sticky note, careful not to tear the wet paper. The letters dripped down it, an inky mess, but I could still make out the address.
Georgia, you’d better come to this baby shower. Better not just bring diapers either, I thought, pulling out of my parking spot. Better be a car seat or, at the very least, a fancy sound machine. One that can belt out Ava Maria or have such a high resolution of sound that you can feel salt spray when you pick the ocean setting.
I squirmed in my seat. Nothing like the feeling of your wet ass on pleather. I fantasized about getting to my apartment: I’ll start with a steaming hot shower and end bundled in a fleece blanket. The thought could have made me purr. But home sat just outside Houston, a thirty-minute commute, which equated to an eternity when converted into dripping-in-wet-clothes time.
Hailey’s apartment, on the other hand, was a ten-minute drive—if the red lights were favorable. Besides, I was supposed to be watering the plants for my sister while she sipped mai-tais with her new boyfriend. And shit. Hailey had been gone for five days, and I hadn’t stopped by once. Most house plants would be fine, but, of course, Hailey had to have a high-maintenance Boston Fern and a depressed orchid among a plethora of other leafy problem children.
I should have let Hailey’s neighbor take care of them like she’d suggested. But I’d felt so guilty for abandoning her and the trip, I thought watering her plants could soften the blow. If only by a little bit. Now I imagined Hailey coming home to a living room of crumpled brown.
Not if I could help it.
I took the exit for Hailey’s apartment. I could shower at her place, borrow some of her clothes, and hopefully drown the plants in enough water and love that they’d forget all Auntie Emily’s neglect. Heck, I thought sourly, I could conserve water by ringing out my clothes over them.
Hailey’s apartment never failed to smell like some sort of fruit arrangement. Today’s choice was peach. I loved her place. Deep corduroy couches adorned with an eclectic collection of throw pillows made a nest in her living room. Stringed bulbs allowed for softer lighting and a basket of blankets all but said, Cuddle up on the couch. Make yourself at home.
Every time envy crept up on me while at Hailey’s, I tried to remember that her savings account could probably cover a week’s worth of groceries. Meanwhile, mine looked pretty good. Mainly because I was obsessed with saving up for a mortgage.
That’s why planning the vacation to Florida had been such a big deal. It had taken Hailey months to convince me to go with her. Finally, after collecting Groupons, agreeing to drive instead of fly, and finding a dirt-cheap Airbnb, she’d convinced me . . . only for work to veto the trip by needing me.
Still shivering on the way to Hailey’s bedroom, a quick look at the plants lining the sliding glass window told me they were sad but that they would probably, possibly, hopefully, make a full recovery. Preferably before Hailey’s plane touched down on a Texas tarmac in a few days. Hailey had always been my person. And while I practically buzzed with excitement to have her back, I didn’t need the lecture about letting one of the plants shrivel up.
I could hear it now, You’re supposed to be the responsible one! I always had been, even though she was the older of us. On the other hand, Hailey had the most fun and lived life to the fullest.
After a shower so warm and long, I was sure I’d stolen the chance for any of Hailey’s neighbors to use hot water for the next forty-eight hours, I helped myself to a T-shirt and shorts from Hailey’s dresser.
I then grabbed a blanket off Hailey’s floor, wrapped it around my body like a cocoon, and sank into her mattress. After a shitty day, I missed Hailey, but I couldn’t call her and vent. I’d messed up her vacation enough already.
Instead, I called my mom. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey, sweetie.” Her voice was like grabbing a mug of coffee and letting the warmth seep into your palm.
“Hey, Mom.”
“What’s wrong?”
The corner of my lip pulled up. That’s all it took. Two words, and she knew something was off.
“You know that promotion I was talking to you about?”
“Yeah?”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, feeling emotional. “I didn’t get it. They hired out.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
