9. Chapter 9
Lydia
Simon: Come home, Lydia. We can fix this. I love you.
Simon: Please, baby. I miss you. Come home.
Simon: Dammit, Lydia, you’re so stupid.
Simon: Stupid bitch. Don’t think I won’t find you. And you’ll be sorry when I do.
Simon: That’s my car, Lydia. I want it back.
My stomach is in knots reading the messages that just won’t quit.
I should block his number, but I’m certain he’ll just find a way to contact me from a different one.
Simon may be a spineless weasel, but he’s creepily smart with technology.
I also have no clue what to do about my car.
Technically, it is mine. My name is on the title, but I’m unsure whether, because we are still legally married, Simon has legal rights to it.
I have got to find an attorney to talk to about all of this.
Unfortunately, that is a problem for future Lydia, because I have to get ready for work at the bookstore soon, and I’d really love to go by Pour Decisions first. I find the Bluetooth speaker I somehow managed to throw in my bag in my haste to leave Simon’s apartment, and I put on my favorite playlist, already dancing by the time Whitney Houston comes through the speaker.
Dancing around in my underwear is undoubtedly one of my favorite pastimes. Without a care in the world, and like no one can see me, I shimmy around my living room and kitchen, grateful this house came with curtains.
Because my music is so loud, I don’t hear the first knock on my front door.
Or the second. But during a brief lull in The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside,” I hear tapping on the glass.
I bolt to open it without turning down the music, and forgetting I am only in a cropped T-shirt and a pair of boy-cut underwear covered in Care Bears.
I love them so much. I’ll be buried in them if I have my way.
I open the door slightly breathless and find Nick standing there. He takes in my scantily clad appearance and seems torn between embarrassment and amusement. Amusement wins out when he grins from ear to ear and asks, “Are those Care Bears?”
I refuse to show him just how mortified I am and instead smile, shrug, and say, “They’re my favorite.”
We stand there, smiling at each other like idiots, for a fair little bit. “Do you always dance around your house in your underwear?” he asks. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. But he’s not laughing at me, I don’t think. He seems almost charmed by my antics.
“As much as I can. It’s the best way to start my day.” I shrug again, like having this man, whom I’ve only met once, standing at my front door while I’m in nothing but a T-shirt and underwear is absolutely no big deal. Just be cool, Lydia.
Finally, he shakes his head and thrusts a basket in my direction.
“Help. I know you told me how to put it all together, but no matter how many times I try, it never looks right. I swear, I’m not usually this pitiful.
I just really want my mom’s present to look as great as I know it can. She deserves it.”
I laugh at his pouty face and tell him to come inside. He hesitates for a second, then follows me. I point toward my bedroom. “I’m just going to go turn down the music and put some pants on. I’ll be right back.”
I haul ass into my room, feeling Nick’s eyes on me as I go, and push the mute button.
I throw on an old pair of Levi’s, toss my hair up into a messy bun, and head back into the living room, where I find Nick looking around the sparsely decorated space. And by sparse, I mean there’s a pretty wingback chair in the corner that Sharon left behind and a few books on the bookshelf.
“This looks good here,” he says, pointing to the blanket.
I folded the beautiful blanket he bought me yesterday and draped it over the back of the chair.
“Thanks,” I say. “There weren’t a lot of options, but I think it suits.” I don’t tell him I used it as a throw blanket on my bed last night, the memory of his kind gesture floating around my head as I curled up with it, wishing it smelled like him.
“Alright.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s put together a basket.” Relief washes over Nick’s face, and he follows me to the small table in the kitchen. I catch him glancing around at his surroundings.
“I haven’t had much time to shop for furniture yet, but I saw an antique store yesterday that’s calling my name. Hopefully, they’ll have a few treasures for me.” Trying not to be embarrassed by my lack of décor, I smile up at him. There’s zero judgment in his eyes. Only kindness.
“I really appreciate your help with this, Lydia. Sorry for just dropping by, but when I thought to text you, I realized I hadn’t gotten your number.
” He looks adorably shy all of a sudden.
“Maybe we could fix that?” He looks down at me with something that almost resembles hopefulness.
Like maybe he’s afraid I’m going to refuse giving him my number.
I have my old phone, which Simon is still blowing up with threatening text messages, and I also have the burner phone I picked up at that truck stop when I crossed the state line. I don’t have that number memorized, and I’m not sure which one to give him.
“I can’t give you my number, Nick.”
His face falls like I’ve genuinely hurt his feelings. I immediately feel terrible.
“Not because I don’t want to,” I hurry to say.
“It’s because I have to get a new phone.
I’m having some problems with unwanted calls and texts on my current one, and I’d rather just start fresh with a new one.
New town, new job…” I let my voice drift off because I don’t really know how to end that sentence.
He nods a little, letting me know he understands. “That makes sense.” He pauses for just a moment, thinking about what he’s going to say next. “These unwanted calls and texts…do you need any help with that?”
The fact this man barely knows me and is offering to help me out makes those damn butterflies go haywire again.
I take a deep breath. It is way too soon to unload any of my baggage on this man. I think I could easily really like him, but hearing I have a vengeful ex looming around could absolutely cause him to run far, far away from me.
I can’t help the small smile that stretches across my lips. I don’t know him well, but from what I’ve learned so far, I can tell he is a genuine guy. “Thank you, but no. I don’t think so. I am learning how to stand on my own more, and this is just one of those things I need to handle myself.”
He looks down at me, chewing over my answer. “Alright. But how about I give you mine, just in case? With you being new in town, I’d feel better knowing you have it if you need something. When you get your new phone, you can move it over if you want.”
“I would really like that. Thank you.” I take a piece of paper and a pen from one of the kitchen drawers, and he scribbles his number down, along with “Nick” beneath it.
I snatch it and pin it under a magnet on the refrigerator, taking a closer look.
This man drew a small heart below his name.
Seriously? Is this his way of flirting with me?
I’ve never had anyone other than Simon flirt with me, and I’m not sure you could even consider that flirting.
I do a terrible job at hiding my smile as I turn back to him, noticing he’s smiling too. Gosh, he’s pretty.
I give my head a small shake, unable to wipe the grin from my face. “Okay, let’s put a book basket together.”
Putting together Nick’s mom’s basket took all of ten minutes before I had to rush out the door to get to the bookstore. No coffee and scone for me. Damn.
Nick insisted on walking me to work since it was so close to my house, and I’m grateful for the company.
“Mmm, can you smell the coffee? It smells delightful even from all the way over here.” I literally sniff the air. It’s one of my favorite smells in the world. “I wonder if there are apple cinnamon scones today,” I say out loud, not realizing until the words are out of my mouth.
I catch Nick watching me as if he’s seeing something I’m not aware of.
I wave, turning to walk into the bookstore, but he gently grabs my wrist. I pause, look down at our hands, then back up to him.
“What?” I ask.
“Is that a bruise on your cheek, Lydia?”
My breath hitches as I look back at him. Shoot. I thought I had done a good job covering up the now-yellowing bruise. It’s faded, but it’s still very visible without makeup.
“I ran into a corner ledge a few days ago. It’s nothing.” I shrug as if the bruising is no big deal. Nick searches my eyes for the truth, but thankfully I school my features enough that he can’t see it.
I would love nothing more than to blurt out my whole truth. Instead, I bite my tongue.
I must have disguised it well enough, because he releases my wrist and steps back.
“Okay. Enjoy your day, Lydia. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon, Nick,” is all I can manage before I turn and head into the bookstore.