31. Lacie
LACIE
Sitting at my desk in the Hailey Winrow building in downtown Fort Worth, I stared at my computer screen. Seeing the calendar there but not really seeing anything.
My gumption was gone. I was a bump on a log, stuck in my swiveling chair, with no desire to move, to think, to do anything other than stew.
On the desk beside me, my planner was splayed open to the correct week. It exhibited rectangular slots, accounting for every hour of the day. And each of those slots were filled in once again, in exact detail, as if they’d never been wiped.
Just more evidence of my insanity.
I stared at my neat scrawl—and the stickers I’d used to add flair—and tried to align the recollections I had of everything that had happened at Harper’s Inn jive with what I saw on the page.
This was my life, exactly as I’d planned it.
I had a job I loved, a job that made me feel powerful every time I delivered what a client dreamed of for the special events in their lives. I had friends; I had activities and things to indeed keep me busy. And I used to love moving with such purpose.
Why, then, did I wish my schedule—my life—would all wipe clean as it had before?
Waking to find my planner vacant had been disconcerting at first. Now, the idea of a freed schedule was all I wanted.
Calligraphy class? My book club? Training for the upcoming marathon?
I already worked over forty hours a week as it was. How did I have time for anything extra?
What did any of it matter now if I didn’t have my best friend?
Jared hadn’t spoken to me since we’d gotten home the day before. He hadn’t hugged me goodbye when he’d removed my suitcase from his trunk. He hadn’t walked me to my door or gone inside for some chips and queso, kicking back on my couch and staring at his phone just to hang out with me.
He’d said he needed to think.
I was the queen of keeping time. How much of it was required for thinking, really?
He hadn’t even mentioned the Christmas gift I’d given him. Not even when I’d texted to thank him for the gel nail kit he’d given me—that I’d none-too-subtly hinted I wanted.
All he’d said was a simple, You’re welcome.
That was where we were now? Measly, predictable ‘you’re welcomes’?
He was supposed to joke about not doing anything too crazy with the color combinations. I was supposed to threaten to gel his nails in his sleep, and he would dare me to try, which of course, I would have.
This cold politeness was all too wrong. If this was what “pulling away” meant, I hated it.
I hated its guts.
Had he made up with Tia? Had he talked to her? What was he doing this afternoon that he couldn’t stop by or text me ?
I felt listless and impotent. My life had been all figured out, but now I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. Because no matter what I had wanted before, Jared had always been a part of it.
How could I survive if he wasn’t? How could he be okay with this?
Even now, I knew I didn’t have time to sit here musing and drifting. I had emails to answer from new potential clients needing their lives planned. And I only had thirty minutes to get through as many as I could before I had to meet with the caterer for the New Year’s Eve wedding for the mayor’s daughter coming in a few days.
I couldn’t do anything about what had happened. About the fake marriage, the pictures, the feelings Jared and I had shared.
Since things had gone “back to normal” he’d been acting as though none of it had happened at all.
I splayed my hands on the desk and stared at nothing.
Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it had all been a fluke after all, and I’d just been going through some strange mid-twenties crisis where people made things up like magic and fake marriages and seeing Santa Claus.
Because those were perfectly normal things to experience.
Whatever it was, the longer I stared at my planner, the less any of it mattered. Oh, I’d keep my appointments and create amazing parties for my clients.
But from this moment on, I would be different. I would do less of what was busy and more of what mattered.
And he was all that mattered.
The pocket watch sat near the mouse on my desk, its chain pooling around it like a napping cat’s tail. I wasn’t sure of what to do with the thing, but the sight of it struck me now.
There is still time.
The note Santa had left for me within the package had been in reference to Jared—or so I thought. But since he’d barely spoken to me since we got back, I somehow doubted that.
What else could it mean?
I stared at my planner again, rethinking things.
Rethinking everything .
I didn’t have to offer handwritten invitations. I already worked too many hours a week as it was. Calligraphy could go.
My book club? I would miss the friends I’d made, but I barely had time to read the books they selected, and I didn’t even like them all half the time.
It was weird—I’d scheduled these extra things in an attempt to be less work-obsessed, yet somehow, they didn’t add anything but stress to my schedule.
The thought dawned slowly, grappling and encompassing and lighting the contours of my mind like daybreak. I lifted the pocket watch. Tapped its little top button to open the lid and stare at the beautiful embellishments.
“There is still time,” I breathed.
Not to do more, but to do less and enjoy life more.
Time to slow down. Time to be with the people who really mattered. Time to focus on what really mattered in my life.
Cynthia had texted me the day Jared and I had left for Harper’s Inn, looking for someone to watch her six-year-old. I’d felt bad turning her down.
I couldn’t do anything about Jared right now, but I could do something about this.
Me: Did you still need someone to watch Chloe?
Cynthia: I thought you were busy.
I glanced at my planner with a smile. With my pencil in hand—though it felt more like a saber—slowly, I slashed through every unimportant thing on my agenda that had once screamed so loudly at me to accomplish.
Calligraphy. Book club. Marathon.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
Me: My schedule just cleared up. I’d love nothing more than to help you out.
The warmest feeling overtook me, a burning ember right in the center of my chest. This felt so good, so right.
Even if I didn’t have my best friend or a wedding of my own to plan, this was something I could control. Something I could still find joy in. Giving my time to the best place it belonged.
Yes, there was still time. Time for other friendships. Time for helping. Time for improving and change. Time to be better. I didn’t know what would become of the situation with Jared, but for now, I wouldn’t let it keep me down.
I had to brace myself to let him go. Just like I said I would.