“You’revery welcome,” I said with a smile, and then my eyes settled once again in aspot within hers—the woman I was dying to know the name of, but wouldn’t dareto ask. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Witha quickened smile and a turn of her heel, she was gone. I turned to Scott, whohanded me the coffee I had since forgotten about, and he asked why I hadn’tjust asked her out. I was embarrassed that he could sense the stirring ofemotion I felt for the woman I had just met, and maybe some time ago I wouldhave gone into an explanation on why I hadn’t. But all I could do was shrug andtell him I must have just been too tired to think, and began to walk away withcoffee in hand, leaving Scott with his headphones and music.
“Actually,I have a question,” I said, turning around as a thought entered my mind. “Haveyou seen her before?”
Ashe lowered the headphones again, Scott raised his brows with knowing eyes.“Yeah, she comes in a couple times a week for Story Time. Moved here from thecity a few months ago.”
“Hmm.”That explained why I hadn’t seen her before. And although I wasn’t a fan ofhanging around a corner full of strange little kids, that was subject tochange. “Thanks, man.”
“Uh-huh,”Scott teased, his mouth curling into a taunting smile beneath his ratty beard,and he pulled the headphones back up.
Iwent through the rest of my day as normal as my normal got. I went to thegrocery store and bought the cat food I initially left the house for. I pickedup a turkey club sandwich from the diner, bumping into my favorite waitressBirdy in the process and received yet another hug, and headed home.
Isat on the bed I missed so much, sharing the sandwich with my four-leggedfriend with a rerun ofFrasier. Afterwards I took the longest, hottestshower I had taken in two months, without Nick’s rushed words telling me Ineeded to be somewhere to sign some things for some people. With my hairsoaking wet, too physically and mentally beat to bother squeezing the water outof its length, I flopped down on my pillow, wrapping myself in the blankets atan hour that would’ve made an old man proud. I closed my eyes, breathing in thecomfortable scent of my own bed clothes, and drifted into a deep sleep as Iwondered what name could possibly be worthy of the most beautiful woman I hadever seen.
CHAPTERFIVE
HOLLY
The weekends since Stephen andI ended hadbecome painfully uneventful. This was no thanks to Anna being with her fatherand leaving me without any work to do, and I couldn’t tell if Stephen alone hadmade me an exciting person, or if the breakup had really taken a toll on my ownpersonal desire for fun. Or maybe it was both.
Probablyboth.
ThatSaturday wasn’t much of an exception, and after lounging on my bed for hourswith a book in hand, I announced to Camille how I planned to spend the rest ofthe weekend. Stay in my pajamas, watchFrasierreruns, indulge in alittle wine from the box in the fridge, enjoy the company of my vibrator, andnap until it was time to go to bed again. It seemed like a sound plan—one Icould easily stick to without putting much pressure on myself—and I rolled outof my bed to find that box of wine.
Myfeet shuffled along the slick wooden floor of the hallway into the living roomto find my mom and Liz sitting there, apparently shocked to see me out of myroom before five.
“Wow,you’re up early,” Liz gasped dramatically, checking her watch. “Wow, Holly,it’s only four in the afternoon. What brings you out of your cave?”
Feelingan obligation to socialize, I slumped into a puffy armchair and rolled my eyesin her direction. “I thought some sunshine would do me some good, but then Isaw you, and that’s basically the same thing.”
“Yeah,whatever. Mommy and I were just thinking about going out for some dinner, andthen maybe hitting a couple stores afterwards. You interested?”
Ipretended to think about the offer for a few split seconds before declining.There was no way I was sacrificing a day ofFrasierand wine. Thatrequired getting dressed and at least giving the appearance that I wanted to bethere, and neither seemed like the wisest way to spend my time.
Lizgroaned as she turned her concerned attention to our mother with that “can youbelieve her?” look on her face. “Itoldyou she hasn’t gotten anybetter.”
“Youreally do have to get out once in a while, Holly,” Mom said in her stern Momvoice. “It really isn’t healthy to be like this. What ever happened to goingout every weekend? You always did stuff on the weekends, remember? You werealways too busy to come out here and see us because you had stuff to do.”
Ilet the guilt run off of me as I uttered a disgusted sound. “Idogetout. I go to the bookstore and, um, Esther’s house …”
Shesighed, her tone suggesting that I was driving her straight to a slow andpainful death. “Just do something as anadult, for crying out loud.Sleeping your weekends away isn’t doing you any good. You should be out,meeting people and having fun. Stephen wasn’t your only ticket to a sociallife, you know.”
Exceptthat I think he was, I thought of mentioning, but kept my lips sealed.
Sheleaned towards the coffee table and shoved a stack of envelopes in mydirection. “These came to my house, by the way. You might want to change youraddress if you expect to get your mail.”
Littledid she know, I didn’t particularly care to receive credit card bills and houseinsurance offers from scammers. Still, I nodded my agreement to avoid anotherlecture on why it was beneficial to my being a responsible adult, and I reachedfor the pile to skim through them. Bill, junk, junk, bill, junk, and then,there was a large envelope. The address was handwritten and the return addresswas somewhere in Manhattan from a name I didn’t recognize. I saw Liz and Momexchange a concerned look as I eyed the envelope.
“It’sgottabe from one of my old friends,” I assured them,as though saying it out loud would help me to convince myself.
“Youhaven’t heard from your friends since—” I shushed Liz with a pleading look. Therewas no need to remind me that my friends had mysteriously vanished with thedemise of my relationship with Stephen. I remembered well enough on my own.
Withmild curiosity and moderate confusion, I tore into the envelope, finding thatit was made of very thick, expensive cardstock, and I found myself excited. Butwhen I pulled out the ribbon-and-damasked piece of heavy paper, my vision wentimmediately blurry as I struggled to read the words embossed at the top in bigspiraling calligraphy. My breaths came in heaving gasps as I waited for thetears to start, and—oh, did they ever.
“Holly!”I realized Liz was shouting at me. She got up from the couch and rushed over tome, taking the card from my shaking hands. I curled up on the chair, strugglingto breathe as I sobbed into the cushions.
“OhGod,” she whispered, sitting at the edge of the chair. “Holly, I’m … I’mso sorry.” She passed it on to my mom, who was convinced at this point thatsomeone had died, and while she was technically wrong, I felt as though perhapsIhad.
