23. Goodbye Stranger
CHAPTER 23
Goodbye Stranger
DUSTY
“I ’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. Come here. Baby will make you feel so much better.”
My eyes shoot open when my alarm goes off, the sky outside my window is pink and orange, the sun setting behind wispy purple clouds. I groan, dreading having to go to work, wishing I could just stay in bed. The subtle weight of an arm around my body anchors me, the breath against my neck comforting, and I sink a little deeper under the sheets. The warm sheets . . .
Oh god .
Joel stirs beside me, and I’m sick with guilt. After everything he’s said and done for me, I’m still dreaming of my faceless stranger?
I squeeze my eyes shut trying to erase the way Baby’s voice makes me feel. I focus on my feelings for Joel, and after a few minutes it works. Joel is the one for me—my infatuation with Baby is just that. Infatuation . And I need to be rid of it.
I roll over to face Joel, and I watch his face perfectly at peace before I disturb him.
“Joel?” I say. “Joel, wake up.”
He groans and squeezes me tighter.
“Joel,” I repeat with a laugh. “Come on, I have to get ready for work.”
“Take the day off,” he says against my skin.
“You know I can’t do that. I have bills to pay.”
He finally opens his eyes, focusing on my face. “I can help you with that. If you’re struggling to make ends meet, I can?—”
“Shhh,” I say, pressing my finger to his lips. “I’m not a damsel in distress, and while I don’t particularly love working, it’s life. I’m more than capable of surviving on my own.”
He nods. “I know. I know you are. All I’m saying is that if you ever need help?—”
“I don’t need your help!”
He freezes, his hands lifting off of me. Overcome with shame, I bite my lip. Don’t screw this up, Dusty. Get a hold of yourself.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t . . . I just mean that I can take care of myself.”
I close my eyes and turn away, waiting for him to stand, get dressed, and leave—never to darken my doorway again. But he gently caresses my neck, presses a kiss there.
“I know you can,” he whispers against my skin. “I shouldn’t have suggested it. I just didn’t want to let you go.”
I look up, and our eyes meet over my bare, freckled shoulder. “I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
We smile at each other, and with a kiss to my nose, he sits up in bed and stands to locate his clothes from this morning. I watch him dress, my eyes glued to his gorgeous, toned body. I pull on a satin robe from a nearby chair and drink a glass of water as he gathers up his things to leave.
“When can I see you next?” he asks as I meet him at my door.
I shrug. “How soon do you want to?”
“Tomorrow?”
I grin. “How about I call you when I know when I’m working next. I’d hate for our time to get cut short again.”
He nods. “Yeah, okay. I need to talk to the guys anyway. Things are—well, they might get more complicated before they get better.”
“Okay.”
He grasps my face and plants a kiss on my lips that warms me deep into my bones.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says, opening the door.
I smile and nod. “See you soon.”
He disappears down the stairs, and I close the door behind me, sinking back against it. An ear-splitting grin pulls at my cheeks. There are butterflies in my stomach, and I am giddy . Should I call him now? Leave him a message for when he gets home? Will he think I’m crazy?
Stella meows from the floor and winds herself between my legs. “Hey, pretty girl. Hope you didn’t mind that we had a visitor.” I pick her up and snuggle her in my arms. “He’s amazing, right? Tell me you like him too.” She meows, and I kiss the top of her head before dropping her on the floor and grabbing her a can of food for dinner.
“This might be it,” I whisper. “Tell me I’m not crazy for giving this a shot.”
She stares pointedly at my hand until I tip her food onto a plate.
“You’re no help,” I mutter.
I turn on the radio so I can listen to music while I shower. The voice of Eartha Kitt fills my apartment as I strip down then step into the hot water. There’s instantaneous relief as the water cascades over me. The music is dull in the background, but it’s gentle and calming. Even though I said—or rather insisted—that I could take care of myself, I imagine what my life might be like a month from now. A year. Ten years.
I haven’t had the luxury of that in so long. Not since I was seventeen and thought I had my whole future planned out. An old wound in my heart smarts, and I clutch at my chest as I stand still under the water. Perhaps it’ll finally wash away the hurt—it’s been duller lately. Maybe that’s because of Joel. Because he’s given me a reason to believe in second chances.
A strange sound comes from the stereo, and over the noise of the water it’s hard to make out. I strain my ears for a minute, the melody oddly familiar. It’s metal music again. Did Stella change the radio station? I’m going to have to get that cat a spiked leather collar if she keeps this up. Even though it isn’t my first choice, I listen to the rock melody as I finish washing my hair, the song ending when I turn off the water.
“—from Carnal Sins,” the radio host says, and I nearly trip over the towel as I race to open the door. Running out into the living room, I halt in front of the speakers. “The band’s found themselves in a little hot water lately with an impending copyright infringement lawsuit. Hopefully everything gets sorted out for them soon.”
Another song begins to play and I stab at the off button with my finger.
“Do they really have to say that on the radio for everyone to hear?” I ask Stella, who is guiltily sitting on top of the stereo. But the song from earlier is stuck in my head. Like déjà vu . . . or a lullaby a parent would sing to their sleeping child. Only, my parents never did that, so what’s this odd feeling?
A boy with hazel eyes and brown hair smiles back at me out of the dark pool of memories in my mind. My eyes blur, and it takes a few moments to realize I’m crying. Salty tears drip down my cheeks, landing on my lips and dripping off my chin. As if surfacing from underwater, I inhale a gigantic breath, the exhale shuddering out of me.
Glancing over at the mirror, I take in my swollen face and red eyes. I poke at the inflamed skin, then my eyes land on my left hand. On the empty space of my ring finger. It’s always felt strange. Like phantom pains after an amputation. I touch the spot with my other hand, and a shiver races up my spine. To think that at one point in my life a ring sat here. A ring that meant everything. The promise of a happier future where I would have a home and a family of my own to love—where they would love me back.
But promises are broken all the time.
I shake out my hands. It’s time to move on. Joel has shown me such care, affection, and patience that I’m sure, given the time it needs, will grow into love. If I’m honest with myself, I’m already halfway there. Maybe he will give me a ring one day with a better promise. So I need to give him everything I can of myself, which means letting go of my past.
“Time to let you go,” I whisper, imagining those hazel eyes receding into the darkness. This time when I look up into the mirror, I feel lighter—free. “Enough,” I say to the empty room. “Enough.”
* * *
I walk into the nondescript building for work tonight, determined. I need to let Baby know that he can’t call me again. That there are a dozen other women I work with who would happily take his calls. In fact, they may even give him a better service than me, since they’re more experienced. But after nine phone calls and several cups of coffee, Baby still hasn’t called.
To be fair, I don’t know his schedule—it’s possible he’s busy, or working, or, hell, at two in the morning, he’s probably sleeping. Yet something in my bones makes me sure he’ll call. Call it intuition or instinct, but when line seven lights up red, I know it’s him even before I pick up the phone.
“Hi, this is Cherry, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
My entire body breaks out in goose bumps. “Hi, Baby,” I say, and relax into my chair.
“I’ve missed the sound of your voice,” he says.
“You have?”
“I dream about it,” he admits.
“I dream about you too,” I say. “And . . .” It’s now or never. “Therein lies the problem.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “The problem?”
I look over my shoulder, ensuring I won’t be overheard. If management found out I was turning away paying customers, I’d definitely get fired. “I can’t take your calls anymore.”
“Oh,” he says, “Are you . . . quitting?”
“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know,” I confess, biting into my lip. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” he states. It’s not a question.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Another pause. “Did I do something wrong? Did I . . . make you feel uncomfortable?”
“No! No, you didn’t. It’s not that. Actually it’s the opposite.”
“What do you mean?”
I take a big breath. “You’re not like the others. There’s something about you, when you call. Like I’ve known you my whole life.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“And that’s a problem, because I’m falling in love with someone in real life. With any other caller it’s just work, but with you—it’s emotional. It’s real. And I can’t . . . It feels like cheating.”
Another long silence fills the space between us. Have I’ve misread everything that’s happened between us?
“Your voice . . .” he says quietly. “It sounds like music.”
For the second time today, tears fill my eyes. I look up to try to keep them contained.
“It reminds me of someone I knew a long, long time ago.”
I drop my forehead onto my desk, fighting the urge to sob. I do mean something to him. Whatever this is between us, I’m not alone—he wanted to love me too.
“This person,” I ask. “Were they someone you lost?”
He sighs into the speaker and my heart aches. “It feels as though I lose her every day. Every time I wake up and realize she’s not here, I feel like it’s happening all over again.”
I bite my lip. “I’m so sorry.”
“I used to be able to drown it out. Drinking, drugs, girls, partying . . . but lately, I just can’t. The only thing that’s helped . . . is you.”
I’m an awful person. Here is this poor broken-hearted man who simply wants to talk to me because I remind him of his long-lost love, and I’m about to make him lose someone else as well.
“Listen, Baby, I—” I take a deep breath.
“We can’t talk anymore,” he cuts me off.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s my fault, not yours.”
“You know, it’s funny. I called the first time for fun, trying to take the edge off of being alone. I didn’t realize how quickly I’d fall for a stranger,” he admits. “I guess it just goes to show how desperate I was for an honest conversation with someone. Maybe . . . maybe I need to have more honest conversations with the people who are already in my life.”
“I know it doesn’t help, but I looked forward to our calls. I . . . if my life was different, I would’ve one day asked to meet you in person. Maybe this would’ve transcended the phone lines.”
“Yeah,” he whispers.
“But I can’t live like this anymore. Can’t be stuck between two half lives. Not when I deserve to live one that’s whole. Complete. Do you understand what I mean?”
I can practically see him nodding. “Yes. I do . . . more than you think.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I say gently.
He hums into the phone and the vibration shoots through me.
“And I hope you’ve found the kind of love worth risking everything for.”
The phone disconnects, and I place the receiver back on the holder as though lost in time. Then I gather the few personal items I’ve kept at my desk, throw them in my bag, and walk out the door with no plan to ever come back.