chapter eight
Work calls, and I'm ready. I despise my job sometimes, but I need to stop thinking about what Daniel can possibly want. I know, though, that until we sit together and he tells me what he texted me for, I'll drive myself crazy. He never replied to my text, and I'm secretly hoping he does to tell me he changed his mind. Still, I'm anxious to find out what he wants.
The first thing I do is log onto my computer and sift through my email. Ten require my attention, which is nothing compared to my inbox at the end of a quarter or year, but the daunting task keeps my thoughts of Daniel at bay for a while, at least. A few customers email me asking if I made a decision on their loan or to confirm their closing date. I receive a few responses from verification companies I'm waiting for. This is my day, every day, filled with emails and phone calls and pushing buttons on my computer like a robot.
My boss sent an email to the team informing us Amber would be late, and, sure enough, she shows up at her cubicle at almost eleven. "Why are you late?" I ask as she sits down at her desk.
"Overslept and then my car wouldn't start. My neighbor helped me change my battery."
A valid excuse, I guess. Amber often comes in late, but she manages never to get in trouble or written up. She always calls, so she's not flat out skipping work and being irresponsible. I think she may be Barb's favorite. Anyone else arriving late so much probably would be fired by now, or, at least, on a final warning. My educated guess is she did oversleep but took her dandy time getting ready. No one rolls out of bed looking as hot as she does, and she always looks good, even more so now that she's trying to impress Ryan.
"Did you enjoy your night?" she whispers over the wall to me.
I hate our blue partitions. Both Amber and I are fairly tall, so at least we can whisper and by reading each other's mouths understand what the other says. Others try to chat, but the walls block them from figuring out what they're saying. My walls are covered in paper, from important phone numbers to new procedures I often forget to look at and, therefore, follow, and a few cute drawings Amber makes me for fun when she's bored. That's the only exciting part of my wall. My only picture of James leans on my keyboard against my monitor. I don't need much else. Some people put pictures of their families or significant others covering their desk and walls, but I don't want that. James is my happy place and I don't want to bring him into the hell I call my job. One small photo gets me through the day.
"Mostly. I took James to the park. Something happened."
"What?" Her eyes go big and her smile wide. "Did you meet another guy? You'll be fighting them off with a stick soon, Chelsea."
"No, nothing like that." Fighting guys off? That doesn't sound appealing at all. I want to devote my life to a single person. The courtship, proposal, wedding. The whole fantasy. "I received an interesting text when I was at the park with James."
"Let me guess - Jay the doctor. Did he send you a picture of him naked with only a stethoscope around his neck?" Amber salivates as she imagines Jay, someone she's never seen before, naked. I don't know how she gets any work done as much as she thinks about guys.
"No." I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. "Daniel wants to get together and talk."
She lets out a laugh, drawing attention from our coworkers. "Sorry," she says as she raises her hand up in apology. She turns back to me. "I bet you told him where to shove it."
I'm not sure how to respond. My face is covered in uncertainty. Should I have told him off? Not even been nice? That's not me. I grew up a lot since Daniel and don't always let everyone walk all over me anymore, but I'm not aggressive about my feelings.
"What? You didn't tell him off? Chelsea, why not?" Her head is tilted and she's genuinely concerned.
"I can't answer that." I think the response as I say the words out loud. "I just, I don't know, the curiosity got to me. We haven't even picked a time to meet and I'm going crazy thinking about it. I need to know what he wants. Maybe he's going to pay me back all the money he owes me. He hasn't sent a penny James' entire life."
"Girl, he's not giving you money. If he wanted to give you money, he'd send it in the mail."
"But-"
"But nothing. He's a butt, that's what." She shakes her head. "You're going to regret this. Big time."
"Why?" Simply meeting him and hearing him out isn't a bad thing. I'm not going to be sucked back into his world and my attraction to him. I'm past that. Way past it.
"What if he wants you to introduce him to James? Or what if he wants you back? Or, maybe, he caught some disease from all the fooling around he did and his conscious said he should tell you. Tell me, how are you feeling down there? Everything okay?"
"Stop, Amber!" I say harshly. She may be open about, well, everything, but I'm not discussing something that personal with her. For the record, I'm fine. "I'm sure he doesn't have ... something. I'll regret it the rest of my life if I don't find out what he wants. I'll always wonder what if."
"Well, what if he never lied to you in the first place and you and him and James were one big happy family? Seems pretty unrealistic, right? Because it is. Daniel's not a good guy and no good can come of this. None! I don't want to be the one to tell you I told you so, but I might."
She will, too. Amber is a very honest, straightforward person. She voices what's on her mind without any type of filter. This doesn't bother me, though. She says what she says because she cares. But, this is something I need to do for me. I can't sit and fester over what he wants and I doubt he'll tell me over a text message, or he would have done so by now.
My phone rings. "Fine. If he tells me he's riddled with disease, you have my permission to say you told me so." Another ring. Three more rings before the call bounces to one of my coworkers. Then whoever picks up will be pissed because I'm clearly not busy at my desk. "But, if it's something else, then I'll tell you I told you so."
She gives me a thumbs up sign and a smirk as I pick up the phone. Any outcome from this probably won't make me happy. Still, I need to do this. For me.
chapter nine
Saturday rolls around and I'm anxious for my date with Jay. I get James ready and check my phone for the weather outlook. Sixty degrees out, but kind of windy, which brings the wind chill down to almost fifty. Not wanting to freeze, I opt for the long leggings as Amber suggested, and a long sleeve shirt, topped with a lightweight jacket. I don't know where he plans to eat after, and hope my outfit is appropriate. However, considering we're going for a walk first, I don't think he will want me to dress too fancy.
Jay and I agree to meet at the gas station where the vicious bee almost killed me. I curse that station now, and every bug occupying a one hundred foot vicinity. Damn jerks. I purchase a water before sitting outside on the retaining wall to wait for him. I find myself fiddling with the bottle cap, and even drop it on the ground a few times. I don't want him to be late. This is our first date and if he doesn't show up on time, he may not really be interested. I'm going on my first date in years, years, and I want it to go well. I need it to go well.
Jay approaches in a pair of sleek black workout pants and a light jacket. I'm torn if I prefer him in his exercise clothes or his doctor coat. Either way, he's sure good looking. I wonder what's under the jacket. I imagine a ribbed tank top with his pecks exploding out of it. I blush, and if he catches me, he doesn't say anything.
"Hey Chelsea," he greets me with a small wave. "Glad you showed up."
"You thought I wouldn't?"
"Well, I tossed around the idea maybe the bee sting eventually killed you. Or perhaps you found out you're allergic to calamine lotion, and that was your demise."
Very funny. A few days ago, I considered comments like this jerky, but I realize now this is his sense of humor, and I think I like it. "Ha ha. Nope. I'm here. I'm glad you showed."
"Good. I'm glad to be here."
"We're using the word glad a lot." His eyes are a shade of brown I've never seen before. Honesty, perhaps? I want to stare into th
em for hours.
"We're happy people," he smiles. "Happy people who need to get walking." He starts moving toward the sidewalk as a signal for me to get off my ass and join him.
Disappointed to lose his focus, I hop off the ledge and meet his stride. "Where do you want to go? You said you planned on lunch after."
"I live about two miles from here and there's a cute family owned restaurant about a half mile further. I thought we would head there."
For me, that's already a three-quarter mile walk to the gas station, and another two and a half to eat, for another three and a quarter mile walk home. I'm too new at this for an over six-mile walk today. My body is much too inactive for this.
"Don't worry. I'll drive you home after lunch," Jay responds, sensing my uneasiness.
"Okay," I agree. "Sounds great."
We keep walking, and my body welcomes the movement. I'm actually doing something. I love taking some control in my life. I especially love I'm setting goals for myself. I love James more than anything, but the past few years my attention has been one-hundred percent devoted to him. I never do anything just for me. My mom often tells me I should, and so does Amber, but I always feel guilty. I'm not being a horrible parent leaving James with my mom so I can go on a date, right? I don't think I am. I hope I'm not, anyway. Does taking time for myself label me as a bad mom? Am I being selfish? I can't think about this now.
"How long have you been a doctor?" I start the conversation, figuring work is a simple enough topic. "You can't be much over thirty."
He laughs. "Thanks. Actually, I'm thirty-two."
Okay, so an older man. Not by much, but more mature and as a doctor, has his head on straight. "Thirty-two is fine. Better than nineteen and Doogie Howser, M.D."
"Do you have a problem with Doogie Howser?"
"No!" I react as though Neil Patrick Harris is my best friend or something. Wouldn't that be fun, though? "I meant I wouldn't want to be on a date with a nineteen-year-old."
"That's good because I would question your judgment if you did." He keeps walking. "Anyway, I've been a full-fledged doctor about two years now. I did my fellowship at the hospital and lucky for me, they offered me a full-time job. But, I decided it's time to move on."
"Oh? How so?"
"A fellow doctor and I are planning on opening our own practice."
"Really? That's incredible." Thirty-two and starting his own business. My little scrapbooking adventure is puny compared to this. I'm scared to take steps forward to continue making tiny kits for others to enjoy, and here he is creating a business from scratch, and saving lives in the meantime.
"I love working at the hospital, but I would much prefer a less fast-paced environment. We're planning on opening a general practice office. This way, too, I can work more normal hours. I'm too young to already be burning out."
A city bus roars by, and we stop talking for a moment. How do I compete with this? "You're ambitious. I don't do anything life saving or anything."
"What do you do?"
The million dollar question. How do I tell this doctor, with at least ten years of school under his belt, I don't even have a degree and I sit at a desk all day. Of course, then he'll understand my weight a little better. "I'm in finance. I work with mortgages."
"Work with them how?"
"I assist in getting people approved for mortgages."
"Really? That sounds .... boring." He chuckles, and I want him to keep going. His laugh is warm and inviting.
"It is." Some may find his remark offensive, but I don't. His description of my job is perfect. "I enter numbers in the computer and it spits an answer back at me. A monkey can do it. I hate it. It's a job though. Although there are days I want to tell my boss where to shove it."
"Who doesn't? But, that's a great way to get fired."
"Yeah. My friend got fired for mouthing off at an old job. I can't afford to lose my job. I have to take care of .... " I trail off, grasping for ways to finish the sentence.
"Of what?"
I can't tell him about James yet. Yes, James is a part of me and any guy I'm involved with will be a part of his life, too, but it's our first date. I don't need to be dropping the single mother bomb on him so soon. I'll tell him on our next date, if he wants to go out again. He's so sweet, but I want him to get to know Chelsea The Woman before introducing him to Chelsea The Mom.
"Myself, of course. I don't want to lose my income or insurance. My insurance is excellent." Good save.
We keep walking, and I'm barely aware my legs are getting tired. Jay is easy to talk to. I love being out in public with a man. I look forward to going on dates to restaurants, movies, miniature golf, and I can't wait to be able to hold Jay's hand. I realize how much I want to be in a real relationship. If that means keeping part of my life secret for a little bit, so be it.
•••
The restaurant is cute - a small place owned by friends of Jay's parents. I'm happy his mom and dad are still together, like mine, and they're involved in Jay's life. His mom is the dean of a university, and his dad the CEO of a large company. Not to be outdone, his older brother is a lawyer. I'm a tad intimidated by his big wig family, as my mortgage rep job seems so subpar to the kind of career-oriented folks he's used to being around.
"Am I the first boring person you've dated?" My tuna sandwich sits on my plate, and while I'm comfortable now, the thought of eating in front of him makes me nervous. Why did I choose tuna? I want him to kiss me, but I'm sure he won't want to come near my mouth if I smell like a fish.
"What does that mean?" Jay asks, not being shy at all and biting into his chicken and avocado wrap.
"I mean, everyone in your family is in an important career and makes a lot of money. I make pennies and my mom is retired and my dad is a landlord."
"So? We do what we're passionate about." He shrugs and grabs a sweet potato fry. I'm not sure how people eat those. Deep frying them doesn't make sweet potatoes taste any better.
"I'm hardly passionate about mortgages." I'm passionate about James and making a life for us. I work to live, not live to work.
Jay drinks his water, and crosses his hands, resting his chin on them. "Tell me, then, Chelsea, what did you always want to do? If you weren't Mortgage Approver Extraordinaire, what would you be?"
I consider this for a moment. What do I want to do with my life? Certainly not what I'm doing. The only thing I'm certain about in life is my son. Scrapbooking is the one passion I have outside of him. Really, though, where is that going to take me?
"If I'm being honest -"
"Please, be honest," Jay interjects, leans in further and places his index fingers on his thin, now glistening, lips. "No one likes a liar."
Second date. I'll tell him on the second date.
"Scrapbooking. I've always loved crafts."
He cocks his head and curves his lips, a small crease defining itself around the corner of his mouth. "Like making photo albums?"
Thankfully he seems interested, but he may be trying to avoid awkward silence. "Yeah. Kind of. I take pictures and create fun pages. I actually run an online store."
"Really?"
The tone in his voice changes and I can't read it, so I hesitate about telling him more. I don't want him seeing my kits online. Most of them consist of a baby theme, which may give too much information away. And I'm a tad embarrassed. I do a good job, but I get nervous discussing it with others. "Yeah. I've been selling kits a little over a year now."
"What's in a kit?"
Does he really care? I don't know many men who participate in scrapbooking, much less ones who even bother to ask about it. When my dad sees me working on it, he doesn't say a word. "One comes with card stock paper, a few frames and stickers and a basic sheet showing how to design a page."
Jay's face lights up. "That sounds so creative. You're like a designer."
I think about what he suggests. I suppose, in a way, he's right. "I never thought of it that way." If a customer asks for
me to put together the entire page, I will, less the photos.
"What else? Tell me about you." He seems intrigued. I like that because no one has ever shown so much interest in me.
"Well, you're aware I recently began a workout routine. I'm starting to enjoy it."
"I think it's great you're working out, but you don't need to lose any weight."
"You've never seen me naked." I cover my mouth as soon as the words leave.
"We'll see," he responds, and I blush.
If he does, I'm sure his image of me will change. I'm not the thin, flawless girl I used to be. I want that girl back. I crave that confidence again.
"Anyway," I continue the conversation, "lunch was nice but I should get back. Can you take me home now?" I'm having a good time, but I need to get back to James. I'm not used to spending so much time away from him, and I really miss him. I can stare into Jay's eyes all day, but my mommy heart calls me.
"You bet. Should we set up another date?"
Another date? I'm relieved he thinks the date went well enough to go on another. This is so simple, so easy compared to my past. I'm not waiting around for a call because an hour freed up in someone's schedule and there's time for a booty call. He's interested in me, no sneaking around required. "Definitely. I'd like that."
chapter ten
Today's the day. I'm seeing Daniel for the first time in over two years. Work dragged on and my stomach twisted in knots the entire day as I waited for four-thirty to roll around to get the heck out of there. I rush home, eat dinner and play with James before putting him to bed. My mom brought a book downstairs to my place to stay with him. I don't tell her I'm meeting Daniel; just that I'm going to the library.
Jay Walking (Pastime Pursuits #2) Page 5