by Kaylee Ryan
All too soon, my alarm is blaring and it’s time to start another work week. I drag my tired ass to the shower and start the process of getting ready for work. When I’m dressed, I make my way to the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee; coffeemakers with timers are the best damn invention ever.
Grabbing my phone, I look at the last text Mike sent just before I fell asleep. I’m giddy like a schoolgirl just reading his words. Knowing last night was not a late one for him, I decide to text him.
Me: Good morning. Hope you have a great day.
I drop my phone in my purse and lock up my apartment. Hearing a beep on the way to my car, I ignore it. With great effort, I might add. I don’t let myself look at his reply until I pull into the parking lot of the office.
Mike: You too, beautiful.
His words do something to me. It feels as though my body is a puddle of goo, like I’m melting on the inside from his words. It was a simple “good morning, have a good day” exchange, but it warms me all the same.
Tossing my phone back into my purse, I climb out of the car and head inside.
“Morning, Jamie,” Mr. Warren, my boss, greets me. “How was your weekend?”
“It was great. Dress shopping was a success,” I tell him. I’m sure he doesn’t care, but he never lets on like he doesn’t.
“That’s great. I’m glad you enjoyed your time.”
Since I have his attention, now’s the time to ask him about another long weekend. “I was actually going to talk to you about that. I was hoping to be able to take another long weekend before the wedding, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is. Things are slow around here. You just tell me when.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warren.”
“Not a lot on the books today. Thought I’d have you go through the pending cases and see what we’re still missing. Contact the courts for updates.”
“I’m all over it,” I assure him, watching as he walks to his office. He’s tired, as one should be after practicing law for over thirty-five years. My gut tells me that he wants to wrap up loose ends so he can announce his retirement. I’m not looking forward to job hunting, or not working for him. He’s a great boss, and Mrs. Warren is a hoot.
Quickly I fire off a text to Whit.
Me: Boss man says okay to another long weekend. Hit me with some dates.
Setting my phone to the side, I fire up my computer and get to work. It only takes me a couple of hours to get through the pending cases; I knew we were slowing down, but this really puts it into perspective for me. I quickly type up a log of what’s still pending and what we’re waiting on, make a few calls to the courthouse and a few to the opposing counsel and add that to my document before sending it off in an e-mail to Mr. Warren.
Stomach growling, I realize I’ve consumed nothing but coffee today. Grabbing my purse and phone, I call down the hall, “Going to lunch, you need anything?”
“No, thank you. The missus should be here soon,” he calls back.
I take off down the street and decide on a little café on the corner. They have great salads, sandwiches and wraps, and today I decide on a grilled chicken salad. Taking my tray to a table in the back corner, I dive in hungrily, my phone suddenly vibrating in my purse next to me scaring me half to death.
I dig it out and swipe the screen to find I have five text messages. I go to the name that draws me in first.
Mike.
Mike: Sucks eating alone. Hope your day is going well.
He attached a picture of a lunchmeat sandwich sitting on a plate on what looks like his coffee table.
I snap a quick picture of my salad and send it off with the caption “Wish you were here.” I hit Send before I can think twice about it and then open the texts from Whitney.
Whitney: Really? Hell yes!
Whitney: How about the second week of April? That’s about halfway to the wedding.
Whitney: Hello?
Me: Sorry, I was working. That sounds good to me. I’ll tell Mr. Warren when I get back to the office.
Whitney: Aaron says he’ll get you a plane ticket.
Me: Tell Aaron he’s sweet, but really the drive is nothing. I don’t mind it. I’ll call you later tonight.
Whitney: Stubborn.
Me: Love you.
I pick up my fork to finish my salad when my phone vibrates across the table.
Mike: Me too, James. Me too.
Again with the warm gooey feeling. What is it about this guy that has me feeling like a teenager with her first crush?
I don’t reply. Instead I pick up my trash, place it on the tray and toss it all in the garbage can. Appetite gone—I have too many butterflies in my belly. I don’t know if they’re because of his words, the fact that he’s thinking about me, or that in just five short weeks I get to see him again.
Now to decide if I’m going to tell him or make it a surprise. I’ll need to make sure Whit is in on it so she can warn everyone not to spill the beans.
The bar is closed on Mondays, and normally that’s fine. I go in, take inventory and make sure everything is good to go for the start of the week.
I’ve done that. I’ve also done laundry and cleaned my house. I’m sitting on the couch watching the sports network, but really I’m just biding my time, watching the clock. I want to call Jamie and ask how her day went. She didn’t reply to my last text, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Was it too much? I’ve never been one to mince words. What you see is what you get with me. I wanted her to know that I wish I were with her. So I told her. Now as I sit here hours later, watching the clock slowly ticking toward seven o’clock, I wonder if for once my blunt honesty has bitten me in the ass.
I pick up my phone to call her when it pings with a text. When I see her name flash across the screen, I release the breath I’ve been holding what seems like all afternoon.
Jamie: Hey, Country. How was your day?
I smile.
Me: Uneventful. How’s city life?
Jamie: Same old.
I hate that we’re texting when I could hear her voice. I tap on her name and place the phone next to my ear.
“Miss me?” she laughs.
“Yes,” I say honestly.
“That’s refreshing.” Her voice is a soft caress to my ear.
“What is?”
“Your honesty.”
“I’ll always be honest with you, Jamie.”
“Favorite cereal?” she asks.
I relax into the couch. “Fruity Pebbles, hands down. You?”
“Lucky Charms. When I was little, I would pick all the marshmallows out of the box and eat them first.”
“I bet you still do that.”
She laughs. “Actually, I eat it dry as a snack. I always have a sandwich bag of it in my desk.”
“I’ll have to remember that. Board game?”
“Hmmm… although I loathe it just as much sometimes, Monopoly.”
“Oh we so have to play. I’m the champion when it comes to Monopoly.”
“Oh please. I hold that title.”
“All right, next time we’re together, we’re playing.”
“That list is growing,” she murmurs.
It is, and it’s not lost on me that I won’t be seeing her again until the wedding. The one we’re both in and therefore will have a ton of wedding-related events to attend for. I’m going to have to work hard to try and get some time with her when she’s here. I’m not opposed to having my meddling sister help me with the act. I know Liv would be all over that, helping cover as we slip away together.
We spend another hour on the phone, talking as if we’ve known each other for years. It’s something I’ve never done. Talking on the phone has never been my thing, but with her being so far away, it’s quickly becoming ours. I don’t second-guess it, this pull I have when it comes to Jamie. Although our interactions have been limited, I know from just one night of lying next to her that she could quickly become an addiction.
Hell, maybe she already has.
“I should let you go,” I say after she yawns yet again.
“Yeah, I have some laundry to fold, and then I’m going to call it a night. I’ll talk to you soon?” she asks.
Is that hope in her voice?
“Yes,” I say with absolute certainty. “Sweet dreams, James.”
“Sweet dreams, Michael,” she whispers.
I wait, listening intently to her breathing on the other end. I refuse to end that connection.
Finally a soft chuckle falls from her lips. It’s music to my ears.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“This. Us. I feel like a damn teenager.”
“Glad to know it’s not just me,” I confess.
“I’ve never been in this situation. I’ve never wanted to hold onto a connection, even a phone call, so badly before in my entire life.”
I clear my throat to tell her yet again that she’s not alone when a laugh rips from her mouth again, reaching my ears. This one is deep, and I can picture her bent over, holding her belly.
“What did I miss?” I can feel the smile on my face just because of the simple fact that she’s happy.
“I just thought of something.”
“Okay?”
“It’s like those bad sitcoms, you know the ones—guy and girl on the phone and then the infamous “You hang up first” in a baby voice comes from one of them?” She’s laughing so hard she’s gasping for air.
I know exactly what she’s talking about, and I can’t help but laugh with her. When we finally get ourselves under control, I go for it. “You hang up first,” I say, my voice soft and calm.
“Michael Wallace, what am I going to do with you?”
“I have a few ideas.” I’m dead serious. I have more than a few ideas for things we could do together. Not just sexually, although I admit those are at the top of my list.
“I bet you do,” she chuckles. “All right, country, I’m off to bed. Sleep well.”
“Night, city.” I hear her exhale and then the line goes dead. I can’t help the smug smile. She hung up first.
Over the next few weeks, Jamie and I fall into a routine. We text all day long, and on my nights off, we talk on the phone. On weekend nights, if she’s still up when I get home, she calls me. She tells me to text her when I get home so she doesn’t worry. I argued with her about not wanting to wake her up, but she insists she’ll sleep better knowing I’m home. It’s oddly like a relationship, but I don’t get to hold her or kiss her. The more we talk and get to know each other, the more I crave that.
Only with Jamie.
Tonight is one of those nights. It’s been a month since I’ve seen her, and I’m incredibly tempted to hop in my truck and drive to her. The bar’s closed Sunday and Monday, so I could leave Saturday morning—the staff and Liv can handle the place for a day—and then I could drive home Monday morning when she leaves for work. Or maybe I could get her to call in and I could leave Tuesday morning. I like that idea so much better.
These are the thoughts that run through my head daily.
Me: Hey, gorgeous, I’m home.
Before I can even set my phone down, her name lights up my screen. I tap the screen and place the phone next to my ear.
“How was your night?” she asks sleepily.
“Good. Slow for a Saturday. How about yours?”
“Oh mine was good. I had dinner with my parents, then came home and cleaned, did some laundry. You know, life of the party,” she laughs.
“I thought you said the city was full of excitement and there’s always something to do?”
“There is, but you have to want to do it.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I just….”
“What’s going on, James?” I use her full name, letting her know I’m serious.
“Nothing, really. I’d just rather….” She hesitates, then blows me away when she says, “Wait for you to call. I mean, none of it appeals to me like it did. You know?” she rambles on. “I mean, if you were here with me, there’s so much I could show you, but….”
“I’ll come to you,” I say automatically. She just voiced my earlier thoughts.
“You will?” She seems surprised.
If she only knew what I would do for her, to see her. “Yeah. You tell me what days work best for you and I’ll be there.”
“What about the bar?”
The bar. I didn’t think about it, but I don’t need to. I have staff and Liv. “Olivia can handle it. You give me dates, darlin,’ and I’ll be there.”
“I wish I could hug you,” she says softly.
“Baby, you have no idea.”
“Let me look at the schedule at work and I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Sweet dreams, James.”
“Night, Michael.”
Tossing my phone on the couch beside me, I grab the remote and turn on the TV, too amped up to sleep. I get to see her soon.
I make a mental note to ask her again midweek. In the meantime, I’m going to make sure the bar is stocked. When she calls, I’m coming for her—no questions asked.
Bar be damned.
I called Whitney first thing Sunday morning and she assured me that Mike has no idea I’m coming to town this weekend. She said everyone knew to keep their mouths shut.
I just about blurted it out that night on the phone. When he told me to name the date and he would come to me, I almost spilled the beans, but I bit my tongue. He asked me twice this week when he could come and visit; I told him that my boss had me working on a project and I needed a couple of weeks so I could take a long weekend and spend more time with him. He seemed disappointed, but he accepted my lame excuse.
As I cross the city limits sign, my heart races. I’m just ten minutes from Whit’s house. She said we’re going to get the gang together tonight. I know my best friend and she’s more than willing to work at fixing me up. Even Olivia’s texted me this week, telling me how excited Mike is going to be when he sees me. I know she’s right, and that has a blinding smile lighting up my face. I can’t wait to see him.
I pull up outside of Whitney and Aaron’s and they’re sitting on the front porch. It’s a warm day for mid-April. Whit bounds off the porch and rushes to my door. I climb out and we hug like it’s been months since we last saw one another, not weeks.
“How was the drive?” Aaron asks once we make our way up the porch steps.
“Good. Traffic was light.”
“I wish you would let us get you a flight.”
“It’s not a big deal, promise. So what’s the big plan for tonight? Mike’s going to be there, right?”
Aaron smirks and Whit smiles wide. “Oh he’s going to be there, all right. It’s because of him that we’re going out.”
I look at them, confused. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s his birthday.” Whit wiggles in her seat with excitement.
“What? I didn’t get him anything. Whitney!” I scold her. “You should’ve told me. Did you know that when you picked this weekend?”
Aaron laughs. “You’re here, Jamie. He’s gone for you. One look at you in the flesh and that’s better than anything you could buy him.” Reaching over, he laces his fingers through Whitney’s. “Trust me on this.”
“Yes, I knew. I thought it would be a great birthday present.” She waggles her eyebrows. “We have two hours to get ready. We’re all meeting at the bar at seven.”
“The bar?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know how he is, doesn’t like to have attention drawn to him. But he did agree to have a drink with everyone if we show up tonight.”
“Well this is more than I bargained for, but there’s no backing out now. Same room as last time?” I ask, heading down the steps to my car. I need to get my bag unpacked and change.
“Yep,” Whitney chirps.
I shake my head at her and smile. I love my best friend and her meddling ways.
Upstairs in my room, I lay out my clothing options on the bed. Knowing Mike’s favorite color is green, I settle for a green off-the-shoulder sweater, jeans and my new cowboy boots, black with a dark green stitching pattern. I pull my hair into a ponytail and sweep my bangs off to the side in a braid. Glancing in the mirror, I look country. I hope Mike likes it.
I find Whit and Aaron in the living room. Whitney’s dressed similar to me and I exhale. I want to fit in, for him and for me.
“Look at you,” Whit whistles. “That sweater brings out your eyes. He’s going to love it.”
I don’t tell her that I hope he does. She knows how much I like him because we’ve talked about it. I just wish we lived closer; this long-distance stuff sucks ass. Not to mention we’re not even in a relationship—at least I don’t think we are. All I know is that I look forward to his text and calls. He’s the highlight of every day, even six hours away.
We take Aaron’s truck, all three of us piled up front since Whit refused to let me sit in the back. I teased her that she just wanted to sit next to Aaron, but she reminded me that she can sit next to or on him any time she wants. Aaron smiles smugly and pulls her closer to him. I just laugh at them and stare out the window the rest of the drive. I’m nervous as hell to see him.
“Ladies,” Aaron says, waving for us to walk ahead of him into the bar.
I fight back the urge to argue with him, that me bringing up the rear—mostly so I can hide behind him—is a better plan. I know the argument will do me no good. Aaron’s a southern gentleman, “ladies first” and all that. Instead I follow behind Whit as we find a table in the corner. Olivia and David are facing us, Kinley and Evan on the side. Mike sits with his back toward us.
My heart is racing and my palms are sweating. I’m nervous for how he’s going to react. I mean, I know he said he would come to me, but this is his birthday and it’s a long shot to just show up like this. We’re friends, right? Friends can surprise friends on their birthday.