Chapter 5 #2
We chatted excitedly about her plans for the move from Colorado to Seattle in the next few months.
She’d been accepted into her top three choices months ago and had gone for visits with the folks to see each campus.
For several weeks afterwards we’d discussed the merits of each of the college’s locations over facetime while eating our favorite snack: popcorn with chocolate chips sprinkled in.
“I mean, New York for obvious reasons,” she’d said. But there was also California, “Sun!!! Beaches!!! Palm trees!!!” and Seattle, “Mountains!!! Lakes!!! Coffee!!!”
“What are the folks hoping for?” I’d asked.
“Well, obviously they’re rooting for the West Coast,” she’d said. “Since it’s closest to home.”
Home was Colorado where she lived with our dad and her mother, my stepmom.
“Obviously,” I said.
“But of course New York would be good cuz I’d get to see you more.”
“I mean… maybe once every couple of months…. I am very busy being a cool and famous author.”
“Lies. I know all you do is lay around in that museum you live in and throw snacks to B cuz you can’t be bothered to get up.”
“Basically.”
“Anyways…”
In the end, she’d chosen Seattle for its renowned medical research center. She wanted to be a general practitioner for children and women and open her own practice one day.
“Something cute and cozy,” she’d told me. “Where people feel immediately comfortable as soon as they walk in.”
I had no doubts she’d make it happen. Marley was a go-getter.
She went on another excited ramble then, telling me about all the things she and her mom were planning to buy for her dorm, and the activities she was planning on getting involved in.
I grinned listening to her, remembering my own excitement when I’d left home for college, the world seeming to suddenly open up before me, my dreams that much closer.
After we got off the phone, following Marley making me promise for the hundredth time that I’d be there for her high school graduation – she didn’t know I was going to surprise her on her birthday next week – we said goodbye and I got back to work.
The launch party for Jessa was set for seven o’clock, so at five I fed Bronte, shoved a piece of peanut butter toast in my mouth, and took the stairs two at a time to the third level to take a shower.
A towel slung around my waist, I stood in the enormous walk-in closet that now sat mostly empty – save for what I referred to as my authorly wardrobe that had, for the most part, all been picked out by my ex.
I was tempted to one day burn it all in exchange for clothing that didn’t make me feel like a pompous asshole.
But for now, and because I hated shopping, it would have to do.
I picked out a pair of jeans that hadn’t cost a small fortune, a shirt that had, and a pair of shoes that said, “I like nice things, but I also care about comfort.”
Satisfied I looked nice, I moved to the mirror to assess my hair and face.
The person that greeted me was decidedly not the guy readers saw on the inside jacket of my novels.
That guy was clean cut, clean shaven, and wore contacts.
This guy, on the other hand, was a bit more unkempt.
And while others probably thought I’d let myself go, I actually preferred this version of myself.
The longer hair that had a slightly wild, likes-to-go-on-adventures look, the five o’clock shadow, and most importantly, the glasses.
I hated wearing contacts. Hated putting stuff in my eyes.
Really hated having to get them out at the end of the day when I was tired.
As with everything else, they had been pushed on me by Nadia, my ex.
“The overall aesthetic is just so much more…” She’d peered at me. “Pleasing to the eye.”
Pleasing to her eye, is what she’d meant.
I preferred slipping on a pair of glasses at the start of the day, and then taking them off at the end and letting everything slightly blur as I drifted off to sleep.
But I’d liked making her proud to be seen with me, and she’d enjoyed showing me off.
Until it all became a bit much and every time I walked into a room she was scrutinizing me.
“Those sweats are too baggy,” she’d say. “They don’t show off your ass.”
“I’m just hanging out at home working,” I’d respond.
“But don’t you want me to want you?”
I did. Until I started to not.
I arrived at the location of the event – a swanky bar with a large back room that had a small stage and a couple dozen chairs set up – at seven on the dot.
It was standing room only and I stood just inside the door, smiling and laughing as my old friend expertly navigated questions before we all adjourned to the main area of the bar that had been rented out for the evening.
There were two tables of appetizers, another with bite-sized desserts, and the waitstaff was walking around offering champagne for free – or one could go to the bar and purchase a cocktail if they pleased.
I grabbed a plate and surveyed the offerings, zoning in on cupcake liners in blue and black to match the cover of Jessa’s new book, with fancy macaroni and cheese inside. I grabbed two and then, unable to resist, took a third.
Someone nearby chuckled and then I heard, “You gonna save any for the rest of us?”
The voice was decidedly female and definitely teasing.
I grinned, feeling slightly guilty, and looked up.
Golden-brown eyes… Those golden-brown eyes.
For a moment my heartbeat accelerated with excitement. And then I remembered the shit that had gone down.
Plus, you know, the literal shit.
And the smile on my face dissipated into the ether.