Chapter 12
LOREN
MOM
I’m so glad you finally got that tooth fixed.
You shouldn’t have waited so long.
Thanks to the emergency root canal two days ago, my jaw feels like it’s been punched.
On top of that, the exorbitant cost means I don’t have enough to pay rent at the start of January.
Which means I shouldn’t be out to eat right now, but since I’m with Josh, I’m taking full advantage of him picking up the check.
That’s right. We’re talking appetizers ordered under the guise of “sharing,” a full dinner, and dessert. I’m not leaving this table without having to unbutton the top of my jeans.
The best part is, no one will even notice because my loose cream sweater hangs at mid-thigh.
It’s the perfect ruse.
We talked about what happened two weeks ago and he seemed to understand where he went wrong. Unfortunately, we’ve both been so busy with work that we haven’t had time for a do-over. It didn’t help that he decided last minute to visit his parents for Christmas.
Was I bummed that he didn’t invite me? Sure. But this is still the start of our relationship, so maybe it was for the best. At least that’s what I told myself over my takeout turkey dinner.
Part of me missed going back to see my parents for the holidays. Mom suggested I use the Christmas money from my grandma for a flight back home, but I needed it for my tooth so…
Besides, I don’t want to go back until I can prove I’m not a complete failure.
Soon.
The new year is going to be my year. The year of Loren Piper. I feel it in my bones.
Josh smiles at me from over his cobb salad but the look doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s been distant since he got back from Colorado, probably mentally preparing for his big work trip to California.
It sucks that he won’t be around for New Year’s either, but we can celebrate when he gets back.
I squish down the top of my burger bun so the mammoth monster will fit into my mouth without giving me lockjaw. “You all packed?”
His lips flatten as he spears a tomato. “Not really. I still have a few loads of laundry to wash.”
At least he has a washer and dryer in his apartment. I have to use the community laundry room in our apartment complex. “Any fun plans for while you’re away?”
His fork slips, landing on the edge of the salad plate with a clang.
The tomato on the end pops off and rolls across the table, leaving a wobbly orange trail of French dressing in its wake.
“For the last time, Loren, this is a work trip.” He snatches back the tomato and drops it into the salad.
“We’ll be in meetings all day, probably have dinner with the higher-ups in the evenings, and then get ready to do it all over again the next day. ”
Geez. Someone’s testy tonight.
I set down my burger to wipe my greasy hands on the cloth napkin stretched across my lap. “You don’t have to snap at me. It was only a question.”
A long breath passes between Josh’s lips. After a beat, he offers an apologetic smile and reaches across the table to give my arm a tender squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’m used to people assuming all this traveling is fun. All I want to do is stay home.”
I want him to stay home too. Work is important but it shouldn’t be your life. “What would we do if you were here instead?”
The muscles in his square jaw flex as he chews slowly, considering. “We’d probably brave the crowds on Broadway, listen to the bands, have a few drinks while we wait for the fireworks, and then go back to my place.”
That sounds like the perfect night. Especially the part where I get to sleep in a luxurious bed with Egyptian Cotton sheets and an apartment with a working HVAC system. Mine’s been on the fritz since before Christmas.
“Maybe next weekend?” We could make some fireworks of our own.
Candlelight sparkles in his eyes when he grins. “It’s a date.”
The rest of dinner goes by without incident and by the time the check arrives, I’m reaching under my shirt to unfasten the top button on my jeans, giving my poor, swollen stomach a chance to expand the way she needs to.
As much as I don’t want to say goodbye to Josh, I can’t wait to take off this damn bra and slip into a pair of sweatpants.
Josh balls up his napkin and drops it onto the table next to what’s left of his cheesecake.
Would it be weird if I asked the server to box it up so that I can have the rest at lunch tomorrow?
He flips open the black checkbook, drops in a few bills, and stands from his chair.
Guess that’s a no on the doggie bags.
No worries. I fold up what’s left of my apple pie inside my napkin and stuff it into my purse like my grandma used to do. I always thought it was strange and embarrassing, but she was on to something.
I sling my purse over my shoulder and as we make our way out of the restaurant, I check my email. There aren’t any, but my reminder to pay rent this week flashes on the screen.
So much for enjoying the rest of the night.
Josh steps closer, his musky cologne drifting over me. “Everything okay?”
I stuff my phone back into my purse. Outta sight, outta mind and all that jazz. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve just gotta pay rent before the weekend.” We’ve received multiple letters saying payment must be received by the first.
The hostess holds open the door for us, and we step out into the chilly evening air. Josh hands the valet our ticket with a smile.
With my apartment’s heating jacked, the thought of going back makes me want to scream. Even with the window open, it’s going to be hot as hell. I’ve asked the twins five times to have someone come up and fix it, but like the mold problem, they haven’t done a damn thing.
Josh lives right around the corner, at one of the high-rise apartments on the city’s west side.
If I lived there, I could walk to work and swing by my favorite coffee shop on the way.
Sharing rent would mean I might even have the extra cash to buy a muffin for Meg every now and then instead of relying on her generosity all the time.
“Maybe we should just move in together,” I say, half-teasing, half-hopeful.
His shower has not one, but two shower heads and there isn’t a speck of mold in sight.
The arm draped around me goes stiff. From the horror on his face, you’d swear I suggested we go out and slaughter a bunch of puppies.
“It was a joke,” I quickly add. “We’ve only known each other for a couple months.
” Wouldn’t want to look like a crazy person.
You know, the kind that hangs out with a guy for a few days and then moves hundreds of miles to be with him.
Josh’s arm falls to his side, and he takes a step back. “You know I care about you, Loren, but I’m not ready for that level of commitment. We said no pressure, remember?”
“Yeah, no. I know. Neither am I. Like I said, it was a joke.”
There’s no humor in his answering laugh, which is just freaking great.
I don’t want him to leave tomorrow and have this conversation haunting us all weekend.
We need damage control. Stat. “I’m really happy in my own place.
Honestly. I’ve got great neighbors, and the commute isn’t bad at all.
” Plus, I get to listen to audiobooks on my drive to and from work. What’s not to love about that?
Josh’s white Range Rover comes into view at the top of the hill, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy frowning at me. “I thought you didn’t really know your neighbors.”
“Only in passing.”
The tiny white lie feels slimy on my tongue. I don’t really know Elliott, but I have shared a beer with him and made him crab cakes. Elliott and Josh don’t know each other, so I can’t imagine how Josh would learn the truth.
Still, I would hate for him to find out somehow and think I was hiding it from him on purpose. Because I’m not.
Yeah, Elliott is hot, but he’s not my type. Plus, he hasn’t hit on me once, so I’m pretty sure I’m not his type either.
Regardless, better to clear things up, just in case. “I mean, the guy next door and I have talked a bit. I gave him one of my crab cakes once and he gave me a beer.”
I can’t believe Elliott thinks I’m lying about cooking them. He’s going to eat his hat when he realizes I am a master in the kitchen.
Josh’s eyes darken. “When was this?”
“I don’t know. Before Christmas.”
The valet pulls the car up to the curb. The teen hops out, and Josh rips the keys from his hand, stalking around the front without giving the poor kid a tip.
My face burns as I scrounge around in my purse for something to give the guy, but unless he wants a sticky quarter, a used tube of Chapstick, or what remains of my pie, I’ve got nothing.
With my head bowed, I slink into the car.
Josh seethes from the driver’s side where he strangles the steering wheel. Before I can fasten the belt across my lap, he whips onto the road.
The belt retracts to the sound of squealing tires, and I shoot him a glare. “What the heck is your problem?” Is he trying to decapitate me or what?
“My problem? You’re the one going out to eat with other guys.”
Did he not hear a word I said? “It wasn’t like that. I made crab cakes for dinner and gave Elliott one. He was sitting on his balcony and gave me a beer. Not a big deal.”
“You don’t even have enough money for an oil change, and yet you buy this guy dinner? I don’t think you should even be talking to him. For all you know, he could be a serial killer.”
“Nah. There’d be more screaming next door.” There is screaming but I usually see the women leaving the next morning when I head out for work.
Josh’s eyes narrow, and if he doesn’t slow the heck down, he’s going to ram into the truck in front of us.
“It was a joke, Josh. Lighten up.”
He takes a deep breath, then sighs before leaning across the center console and reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry, Loren. I don’t know why I’m acting like such a jealous asshole. I trust you, and it’s not my place to tell you who you can and can’t talk to.”
“You’re forgiven.”
Even though our first fight is over, awkward silence fills the cab the entire drive back to my place. Josh lets go of my hand when he shifts into park next to my car. I remove my seatbelt, expecting him to do the same. When he doesn’t, my heart stumbles.
We won’t see each other for another week, and he doesn’t even seem to care.
I open the door slowly. Waiting. Climb out even slower.
Isn’t he going to kiss me goodnight?
“Hey Loren?” Josh calls before I close the door.
Hope swells in my chest as I turn back toward him, the light from the console like a golden halo around his head.
“Call me when I’m gone?” he asks with a soft smile.
“Every night.”
His brow furrows and he glances away, scrubbing his hands down his dress slacks like he’s nervous. “I…”
Oh god. This is it. He’s going to say it. Those three words have been on the tip of my tongue since the night we said goodbye back on his great aunt’s front porch and now I can finally set them free.
Josh’s gaze locks with mine, emotion swimming in his eyes. “I like what we have and really don’t want to lose it.”
Hold on. Did he just say he likes what we have?
He likes it.
Like our relationship is French freaking dressing.
Maybe I’m jumping the gun a little expecting him to say he loves me after only a couple months, but the least he can do is say he loves what we have. He doesn’t even do that.
He likes it.
“I don’t want to lose it either,” I say for lack of a more enthusiastic response.
When I close the door and walk toward the staircase, a lead weight settles in the pit of my stomach, and it refuses to go away.