6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
“ T hat’s hilarious,” I declare to Dawson, laughing out loud.
We’re standing in the lobby of the shop, by the check-in desk. He’s wearing navy-blue coveralls and a bright smile. It honestly deserves awards, that smile of his.
He’s been telling me about something ridiculous that Chad did, and while it was funny, it wasn’t exactly hilarious. But this is me trying to flirt. I think. I’m rusty.
It’s been two weeks since I found out I was texting a complete stranger. It’s been hard. Harder than I thought. I’ve taken to talking to my mom in my head. But it doesn’t have the same feeling.
I deleted the number from my phone so I don’t accidentally send a text to that guy again. It felt like a stab in the gut when I hit that gray circle with the x in the center and deleted her number. It’s not her number anymore. It’s Chase’s.
At least I get to keep all the texts I sent her. Not that I plan on looking at them anytime soon. I don’t want to lose them, though. Or the texts she sent me before she died. I’m not ready to look at those either.
My dad tried to talk to me about it again when I saw him at work, but I just told him it was no big deal. Even though it was. I couldn’t tell him that I’ve been spam texting some poor guy. I get a little uncomfortable chill up my spine when I think about it. So I try really hard not to .
I guess I understand why my dad didn’t tell me he canceled the number. I would have thrown a fit. I still wanted to but had to stop myself from verbalizing my anger because there would have been too many questions. So I only told him that I would have liked to have known. He apologized again, and that was that.
Well, I wish that was that. It feels like there’s another part of my life that’s missing now, and the hole in my heart that formed when my mom died feels like it will never close.
But today I woke up and decided that despite this hole in my heart, I need to get back to my life. And since I’d like to have Dawson in my life—romantically speaking—I need to make my move.
Actually, last night over Korean food that Halmoni made us, Hannah made me swear on my favorite One Direction sweatshirt that I would do it. She promised to chop it into little bits if I didn’t. She’s always looking for reasons to get rid of that sweatshirt.
Threats aside, she’s right. I can’t keep shuffling my feet and doing what I’m doing and expect life to change.
So now I’m standing in front of Dawson, in the empty front lobby of Cooper’s. I’d say it was fate or the universe, but I saw him walking by and asked him to come over and chat with me. I’m going to keep it simple and just ask him to lunch. No big deal. I’ve got this.
“So, Dawson,” I say, after taking a big breath because I really don’t have this. But I’m going to fake it until I make it. Which is something my mom used to say.
She also used to give us a kiss for good luck anytime we were doing something challenging or daring. If she were here right now, she’d kiss me on the cheek, probably pat me on the butt, and tell me to go for it.
Dawson looks at me, his eyebrows raised in question.
“I was thinking—”
“Hey, Dawson,” Robin, our front desk girl, interrupts me as she takes a seat at the high-top desk we’re standing in front of. She’s a tiny thing, with straight blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes.
She’d asked me to watch the front desk while she used the restroom, which is why I was standing in the front lobby in the first place. It just worked out that Dawson happened to walk by.
I hired Robin. She’s got a lot of energy and is a great fit for the front desk—the first representation of our company when clients come through the front door. What I didn’t know is that she has the worst possible timing. Not that I would have asked her that in the interview.
Robin looks to me. “Thanks for watching the desk, Maggie. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” I say. I turn to look at Dawson. He smiles and I swear his eye twinkles. It could be the overhead lighting reflecting in his pupil, but it seemed like there was an honest-to-God twinkle.
“You … were saying something?” he asks, his lips still curving upward.
“Yeah, I …” I stop myself and look at Robin and then back at Dawson. This just got weird. I can’t ask Dawson out in front of Robin. She’s my employee. And what if he rejects me? I don’t want an audience for that.
I’ll just ask him to come to my office, and then it will be go time. I tug on the k pendant on my necklace. Maybe it will give me courage.
You can do this, Maggie.
I open my mouth, but then Robin starts. “Hey, Dawson,” she says, her eyes on him, giving him an award-winning smile. “Do you want to go to lunch today?”
Wait … what?
“Sure,” Dawson says, giving her a grin, those beautiful pearly whites fully exposed.
I look at Robin and then at Dawson. She just asked him out in front of me … to lunch. Exactly what I was going to do only seconds ago—only I talked myself out of it because it would have been awkward. But Robin just said the words. No big deal. And he said yes, without flinching or even a momentary pause. Just like that. It was so easy.
I stand there, totally mouth breathing, stunned by what just transpired. Dawson looks to me and then back at Robin, and then back to me again.
“Do you … want to come with us?” he asks, as if he could read my mind.
“I …” I start but then stop myself.
“Actually,” Robin interjects, “who would watch the front desk if we both went?”
If Robin is playing some game and doesn’t want me to come, she’s just offered the perfect excuse. It’s usually me that takes over front desk duties for her breaks.
“That’s true,” I say.
“We could find someone else?” Dawson throws it out there, nodding his head at Robin and then me.
We probably could, but lunch with Dawson and Robin doesn’t sound all that appealing to me. I think I’d feel like a third wheel.
“You know, I think I better take care of the front desk,” I say, and then give them a fake smile. “Rain check?”
“Of course,” Dawson says, directing that gorgeous grin at me.
“Well, I better … get back to work,” I say. “Give me a call when you’re leaving, Robin.”
What just happened?
L ater that day after most of the staff has left for the night, I sit in my office and stare at my phone.
I called Hannah after Robin unknowingly stole my lunch date, and she lectured me for three minutes about how I’m going to miss my chance and how right she was and blah, blah, blah. Then she had to hang up really fast when her mom caught her on the phone. Sometimes Hannah working for her mom makes me feel like we’re teenagers again.
Right now, I’d be texting my mom, telling her about my day. Venting about my feelings. Instead, I’m sitting here staring at my phone, feeling like there’s no one I can talk to. I was getting so much off my chest with those texts to my mom. And now … now who do I have? My family is dealing with their own grief, in their own way. There’s Hannah, of course, but it feels like she’s not really getting it. How could she? She has both parents still, even if her mom and dad are divorced and her dad lives in California.
I feel like I’m in a big sucky club for one.
I hear a throat clear and look up to see Devon walking into my office .
“What’re you staring at so intently?” he asks, with a chin dip toward my phone.
I put it facedown on my desk and lean back in my chair. “Nothing,” I say.
He walks in, doing that Devon swagger he does, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, and takes a seat at the chair in front of my desk.
“I’ve been tasked with checking on you,” he says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Checking on me?”
“Chelsea.” He only needs to say one word.
I wrinkle my brow. “Why is Chelsea having you check on me?”
That’s so Chelsea. Delegation is a strength of hers. She’s so good at it, she sometimes delegates delegation.
Devon shrugs. “She thinks you’re … having a hard time with things.”
I give Devon a confused look. “Aren’t we all having a hard time?”
The corners of his mouth lift up just slightly. “Yeah, but … you know, with the jump and stuff. She’s just worried about you.”
Ah, the jump. Yes, I’ve been trying not to think of it. It’s not until May, anyway. There’s really no need. Also, when I do think about it, nervousness creeps up my spine and my heart picks up its pace. Just a little, but it’s enough to make me think maybe I should just not think about it right now. Of course, there’s also another nagging part of me that keeps telling me I need to figure myself out now, before it’s too late.
For right now, I’ll go with avoiding. It’s serving me.
“Are you worried about me?” I ask Devon .
He looks at me and shrugs one shoulder. “Not really. You know Chels.”
I do know Chelsea. The thing is, she’s not far off. I’m not doing so well. I thought I was covering it up … faking it until I make it.
“I miss her too,” Devon says, leaning back in his chair, looking over to the side as he does. Devon doesn’t do eye contact while talking about profound things. I think it might be too much for him.
“I know,” I say.
One of the things that’s gotten me through this is my family. I thought we were pretty close before, but now we have this whole new bond. It’s a shared grief, a shared comfort that we’re all experiencing this together.
Which is why it makes no sense that I feel as alone as I do. It’s just that I never relied on Devon or Chelsea to discuss my feelings, as close as we are. That’s always been my mom’s job.
But maybe if I tried …
I look at Devon. “I don’t feel like myself.”
He just nods.
“And I don’t know how … to feel like myself.”
Devon nods again.
“I really miss myself, you know? The … old me.”
Devon nods yet again.
I look at him, and he looks back at me. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s not here to offer me any words of wisdom or comfort.
Well. At least I tried.
I take a breath. “What have you been up to?”
I’ve learned with Devon, if all else fails, talk about him . It’s probably his favorite topic .
Devon reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. “Just work.”
“Any new women in your life?” I don’t know why I ask this. I don’t really want to know.
“Funny you should ask,” he says, a mischievous look on his face.
“No,” I say, knowing exactly where he’s going with that.
“Why?”
“We’ve already gone over this. You’re not dating Robin. I told you the rules.” I give him my death stare.
I knew when I hired Robin that she’d be on Devon’s radar. She’s his type: petite, blonde. So before she even started, I had words with him about keeping his paws off. Except for her being a lunch date stealer, I like Robin and she does a great job.
I think I made things worse, though. Devon has only had eyes for her since she started. It’s like keeping her off-limits made her even more attractive. The forbidden fruit.
“Sorry, Devon, it’s not happening.”
“Fine,” he says. “How’s Hannah?” The corner of his mouth lifts up, a sly look.
I give him another death stare. Hannah is also off-limits. Although I should really let him try. She’d eat him alive. But there’s that .0001 percent chance that he’d get through her walls and get past her dislike of men, and I’m not willing to take that chance. Don’t get me wrong, I want Hannah to find someone, just not my player brother.
Devon holds his hands up, palms toward me. “I know, I know,” he says. He stands up from his chair. “I’ll keep your dumb rules.”
“Thank you.”
“See you tomorrow,” he says as he leaves .
“Thanks for the chat,” I say, my tone oozing sarcasm.
I’m not sure why Chelsea thought sending Devon to talk to me was a good idea. This time her delegation skills are sorely lacking.