by Jiffy Kate
“I guess it’s good that they’re leaving soon for their honeymoon,” I tell him, remembering what Carys said when she stopped by the other day.
We leave it at that for the rest of the night, keeping our conversation on Rose, Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia. It’s easier to pick apart other people’s lives when yours isn’t going like you want it.
Which leads me to the question: how do I want it?
If this isn’t it, then what is?
Letting Shep go and getting Theo to go away, those two things were supposed to make my life go back to normal. But what the heck is normal? I don’t feel normal. I definitely don’t feel like myself. I feel…sad and tired, and tired of being sad…and bored, if I’m being completely honest.
Without the threat of losing Neutral Grounds and my home and job, and without my agreement with Shep still intact, I was supposed to feel safe, right? That’s what I wanted. I wanted my safety net back. I wanted to know my exit strategy, but now that I have all of that, I feel like there’s something missing.
Or someone.
But I don’t think I’m ready to admit that.
Or the fact that it might’ve been too late to end things with Shep. I might’ve been too far gone. I still might be and I don’t know what to do with that. I keep telling myself I didn’t fall in love with Shep overnight, so I can’t expect myself to fall out of love with him so quickly.
I keep waiting to get divorce papers, thinking that would make it real and force me to face the facts that it’s over. But they never come.
I also keep waiting to hear the news that Shep’s moved on…that he’s dating someone…or fucking someone. But that hasn’t come either.
“Hey,” Carys says, walking up to the counter.
“Hey,” I reply, giving her a warm smile. “I thought you were supposed to be leaving on a fancy honeymoon with your husband.” Why does that hurt to say? It shouldn’t. I’m happy for my friend and the love that she’s found.
My inner voice says I’m also jealous of all that. I’m envious of the realness of her relationship with Maverick and how palpable the love is between them.
“So, how’s…everything?” she asks, walking around behind the counter and making herself at home while I work. “I haven’t seen Paige around much.”
“School is back in session,” I tell her. “I’ve been kind of letting her make her own hours.”
Carys laughs. “Sounds about right…which means you’re back to working ungodly hours every day, if I have to guess.”
“It’s what I do,” I say with a shrug, handing a drink to a customer. “Thanks for coming in,” I call out as they leave. Turning back to Carys, I add, “it’s not like I have anything else to do. Besides, I’m used to it…but I have thought about hiring another employee. Having someone to delegate to hasn’t been the worst thing in the world. And business has been good, so I could financially support another employee.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You should do that,” she says. “I liked seeing you take some time off…you deserve it. We all need a break from time to time…and it’s nice to have someone to share the load with.”
We both know she’s talking about Shep. I can tell she’s feeling me out, but I can’t force myself to ask her about him. I know she would tell me anything I want to know, but I can’t do it—I can’t ask—even though it’s right on the tip of my tongue.
When I don’t reply, she takes it as her cue to leave, not offering up any information probably in an effort to save my feelings.
“Guess I better go,” she says, leaning over and pulling me into a hug. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself while I’m gone.”
“I promise,” I tell her, holding on a little tighter than usual. “Promise me you’ll have the best honeymoon ever.” Do it for me. “And bring me back something super cheesy.”
She laughs, pulling back. “A t-shirt or a coffee mug?”
“Coffee mug, duh,” I deadpan, motioning to our surroundings.
One last goodbye and she’s out the door, heading home to her husband and letting him whisk her away to somewhere tropical. She’s chasing her happily ever after and not holding anything back or sitting around waiting for the worst-case scenario to happen. She’s been through that and lived to tell about it. My past experiences don’t hold a candle to what Carys has been through, so why can’t I be free like that? What’s wrong with me?
Gah, this isn’t how it was supposed to be.
I feel more confused and out of control than I did a month ago. That safety net I was trying so desperately to reinstall doesn’t feel so great anymore. It feels lonely and solitary. I used to be good with that, but now that I’ve had a taste of the other side—the married, in a relationship side—I don’t know if I can go back.
Jules is great, but he’s not mine. One of these days, he will make a man very happy and I will be happy for him.
Carys has Maverick.
Avery has Shaw and the baby.
Everybody has someone.
Except me.
And Shep.
And I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me even sadder than my own loneliness. When I think about his shitty family and that he doesn’t have anyone to rely on either, besides Maverick…who has Carys…I want to go to him and tell him to forget everything I said and stay married to me forever.
But then there’s that lingering, nagging thought that I’m not marriage material. I’ll always be a control freak. I’ll always need to feel in charge of my own destiny. That part of me will never change or go away.
I decided to walk to Avery’s house today to see her and the baby, it wasn’t until I was about half way here that it dawned on me I’ll be next door to Shep, or at least his house, and closer to him than I’ve been in over three weeks.
Carys and Maverick get back from their honeymoon today and Avery wants to plan a get together for everyone to catch up and see the baby. I’m trying to be happy about it, about everything, but nothing feels right anymore, even more so now than before…
Before I let myself get in the way of my own happiness.
Was it really so bad that Shep paid Theo off? No, but I used it as an excuse.
It did make me feel threatened, but not in the same way Theo did. It’s different. I felt like my self-reliance was being threatened, like somehow Shep was buying him out to lord it over me. Yet, here we are, almost a month down the road and he’s yet to throw it in my face or demand anything in return.
He hasn’t even darkened my doorstep.
No texts.
No calls.
And it hits me—I’ve been ghosted again.
It’s definitely worse the second time around. Now, I’m not just missing his body and the things he can do to mine. I’m missing him—late-night spaghetti dinners, someone to ask me about my day, hearing him talk passionately about things that interest him, the banter, and the recognition. He saw me for what I was and never asked me to be anything different.
I’m the one who pushed him away because I didn’t want to hang around and see what happened in the end. Now, I’m wondering if it wouldn’t have ended badly after all. Maybe he was feeling the same things I was, but instead of being a coward, he embraced it.
But I ruined all of it by pushing him away.
As I approach the colorful houses that mark the area Shaw and Avery, and now Shep, live in, my heart starts to beat faster. Maybe I should just walk up to his door and knock. If he turns me away, at least I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow without regret, knowing I tried.
Just as I’m getting ready to cross the street, I see Shep’s door open and I freeze. Two seconds ago, I was all in, but now that I’m being faced with the idea of seeing him again for the first time in weeks, I don’t know what to do with myself.
My palms are sweaty.
My breaths are short.
I swallow.
And then, disappointment settles my nerves.
I
t’s just Finley. Well, not just Finley. I like Finley. But he’s not Shep. No one is.
“Hey, man,” he says, his phone pressed to his ear as he turns to lock the door and I hide behind the bushes that separate the two walkways.
Why am I hiding behind the bushes?
What the heck is wrong with me?
“Hahaha,” he laughs into the phone sarcastically. “Very funny. No, I’m not having ragers at your pad. Don’t worry.”
He starts to walk away and I stand, seeing he’s headed down the sidewalk.
“How’s Dallas?”
Dallas?
Shep. He has to be talking to Shep. Shep’s in Dallas.
“Sounds great, man. I’ll call you if anything changes here. Thanks again for letting me have a place to crash. I’m looking for my own place, but it’s kind of slim pickings…”
The further he walks down the sidewalk, the less I can make out from his conversation, but I heard enough and my stomach is now sitting at my feet…along with my heart.
Shep went back to Dallas and I guess I have my answer—it’s really over.
Chapter 29
CeCe
“Hello?” Avery’s voice is entirely too chipper for this early in the morning, but when I texted her a few minutes ago and told her to call me when she was awake, she replied back with “Already awake. Living on baby time!”
A second later, she texted me to call her, probably assuming I was up early with the chickens to make coffee. I wish.
“Hey,” I groan, speaking into my phone that’s lodged between me and my pillow.
“Oh, no,” she drawls. “What’s wrong? You sound horrible.”
“All I said was hey,” I reply, trying to sound human but failing miserably.
“Just a sec,” she says, shuffling some things around, probably laying Shae down so she can have her hands free. My godson is the best thing since sliced bread and his mama is one of the best I’ve ever seen. She’s so patient and gentle. I love watching the two of them together, but it does make my ovaries ache. I never thought I had a biological clock—or if I did, it was broken—until Shae was born. Now, it ticks loudly.
“Sorry, I’m back,” she whispers. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Yes.” My distaste for my current state of health is obvious in my tone. I hate being sick. Actually, I’ve never been this sick…at least not in the last five years. If it wasn’t for Paige, who thankfully replied immediately to my SOS call for help, I would have to close the shop today, which is unheard of and completely out of the question. I’m not sure what I would have done without her, but I would’ve figured something out. Thank goodness we started training a new girl last week, so at least she’ll have some help later today. “I just wanted you to know that I have some sort of plague…or flu…I don’t know. My whole body aches and I can’t keep anything down. It’s horrible and I want to die, but more importantly, I wanted to make sure I didn’t give anything to Shae.”
I held him for over two hours yesterday, unable to stop inhaling his sweet baby scent—even though he did poop on me…twice—and feeling his soft baby hands. It was the happiest two hours I’ve had in a while, but now I’m worried I passed horrible germs to my godson.
“He’s fine,” Avery coos, probably to me and to Shae, or maybe she just talks to everyone in that soothing, motherly tone these days. “Don’t worry…I’ll keep an eye on him, but babies are very resilient and you washed your hands and used hand sanitizer a million times. Do you think it could’ve been something you ate?”
I sigh, trying to roll over in bed and then regretting it immediately. “No…maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I felt fine yesterday evening after I got home.” It was Sunday and I’ve started closing the shop on Sundays to give myself and everyone else a day off, so after my visit with Avery and Shae, I took the long way back home, thinking mostly about what I overheard from Finley. “I didn’t even know I was sick until I woke up around three o’clock this morning and I had to make a run for the bathroom.”
“Awww, I’m so sorry. Do you need me to send Shaw over?” Avery’s offer of sending her brooding fiancé over to check on me is laughable, but I can’t laugh. I can’t do anything right now.
“No,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine. Just keep an eye on my baby, okay?”
She laughs lightly and lets out a sigh. “I will, but you have to promise to call me if you need anything and if I call you, you better answer your phone or I’m sending first responders to your apartment, presuming you’re in a coma or something.”
“Fine.”
After I hang up the phone, I try to go to the kitchen and make a mug of tea, but I can’t do it. My legs are so weak, the only thing I can manage is a glass of water and that feels like an extreme feat.
Making it as far as the couch, I pull my blanket off the back, wrap up in it, and promptly fall back asleep. My dreams are fitful and weird. Shep makes an appearance as usual, but he’s not there in his usual capacity and they aren’t my usual dreams. He’s just walking…and walking…never making it to a destination.
I have no idea how long I sleep, but at some point, I wake up to a brown paper bag sitting on the coffee table in front of me and a cup from downstairs that smells like peppermint tea. With zero recollection of anyone coming into my apartment, I assume it was Paige and hope to God she didn’t touch me or anything in here. The last thing I need is for my help to get sick.
Managing a few sips, I decide that’s as much as I can and should do, just in case it decides to make a reappearance. When I roll over to place it back on the table, I notice a trash can at my side and a folded-up washcloth…it’s still damp, so I apply it to my forehead and fall back asleep.
The next time I wake, it’s dark outside, but my television is on and The Golden Girls is playing.
Dorothy is eating cheesecake and just the thought makes my stomach roll, so I close my eyes, trying to block it out. I usually tend to agree with them that cheesecake fixes everything, but not tonight. Cheesecake will definitely not fix this.
My door shutting is what wakes me up the next time and I sit up, startled someone was in my apartment, and again I didn’t even know. I swear, I’ve never been this out of it. My head swims with the quick movement and I think about laying back down but my bed sounds like a nice change, so I try to make it there.
Thankfully, my legs still work, so I make a quick side trip to the bathroom and survey the area. I can’t remember much, but it looks cleaner than the last time I was here, whenever that was.
Stripping off my t-shirt and shorts, I pull a clean nightgown out of my drawer and throw it on, appreciating the clean cotton against my skin. As I climb into bed, I pick up my phone from the nightstand and see a few missed messages from Avery, Carys, Paige, and Jules.
That explains the ninja coming in and out of my apartment.
Avery warned me she’d send in the cavalry if I didn’t answer. I hate that I worried her, but I’m grateful to know she wouldn’t let me just die here alone.
That’s comforting.
Avery: Are you alive?
Avery: Hello?
Avery: I’m sending Jules over. Carys said we can use him as a sacrifice.
Jules: Do you like chicken soup?
Jules: Can you eat soup?
Jules: I’m bringing tea and a bagel.
Carys: Hi honey. How are you?
Carys: Text me.
Paige: If you heard that loud bang, don’t worry. It was a rambunctious kid running around and he knocked over a shelf. Nothing’s broken. But I told his parents I was giving him espresso if it happened again.
Paige: It happened again.
Paige: And something’s broken.
Paige: But it’s not the kid and I have it under control.
Again, at four-thirty this morning…
Paige: I tried calling you last night but you didn’t pick up. I have to go to class today for a few hours to take a test. Any ideas who I could call to work the shop???
>
That gets my heart pumping and I’m coherent enough to pull myself back up into a sitting position.
What time is it?
Rubbing my eyes, I focus in on the time at the top of my phone.
Ten. In the morning, obviously, because the sun is out.
Pushing out of bed, I go back into the bathroom and turn on the shower. After rummaging around in the medicine cabinet, I find a thermometer and take my temperature. Ninety-nine. That’s close enough. If I’m not running a fever, I’m not contagious, right?
After I let the warm water run over my skin, bringing me back to the present, I take inventory of the rest of my body.
The nausea is basically gone.
My bones no longer feel like they’re being put through a trash compactor.
My muscles still ache, but more like I just went for a short jog and not a marathon.
I’m not one hundred percent, but I don’t feel like I’m knocking on death’s door either, so I think I can swing working for a few hours.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dried off and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with my damp hair pulled up in a bun. One look at myself in the mirror has me cringing. The dark circles under my eyes tell a different story than the lie I’m feeding myself, but I don’t have time to worry about that.
It’s not until I bend down to put my shoes on that I really regret this decision, but what choice do I have? None. When you’re the owner, manager, and CFO, you pull your shit together and get it done. Or, at least, that’s the pep talk I give to myself on my way to the door.
You can do this.
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the smell of coffee and baked goods and pray to God I’m able to push through.
Gingerly, I make my way down the steps, somewhat comforted by the familiar sounds of customers chatter, faint music coming from the speakers, and a fresh pot of coffee brewing. I can’t help but smile. Apparently, the world doesn’t end if I’m incapacitated, imagine that.
But it’s the sight I see when I make the corner into the shop that really gets my attention…I mean, my full fucking attention, because Shepard Rhys-Jones is handing a customer their order and he’s wearing an apron—my apron—over his starched white shirt and jeans.