29. Rose
ROSE
FUCK! Fucking Dante! Fucking men! How is this happening to me again?
First Luca, and now Dante? I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but now that I’m in my car and driving, I realize I don’t have a destination.
I could go back to the city. Dante would understand I need a few days, but I have deliveries scheduled for tomorrow that took forever to coordinate, and I don’t want to have to reschedule and extend this project any longer than it needs to be at this point.
Here, I was thinking I found my big break as an independent designer with this amazing project, but instead, I have not only kissed the contractor of the project but also the homeowner, my actual client!
Actually no, I don’t accept that. They kissed me!
Did I kiss them back? Yes. But that’s besides the point.
However, they are also the ones who pulled away as I melted into each kiss, but that is something I will need to unpack after this project is over.
Maybe it’s finally time I go to therapy again.
God knows I have a lot more than these men to unpack with my history.
Before I know it, I am pulling into the parking lot of the diner without realizing I was even driving here.
I had intended to go straight to the dingy motel and pray there would be a room available for the night so I could shower off this ridiculous evening, but instead, I’m sitting in my car in front of the neon sign showing they are still open.
Well, I guess my subconscious knew I needed some of Shirley’s unique brand of therapy.
At least she says what she means and doesn’t speak in riddles like the men occupying my life these days.
Maybe she has some ideas on places to stay instead of going back to the city this late.
An iced coffee wouldn’t hurt either. Call it liquid therapy.
“What are you doing here this late, sweetie?” Shirley asks as I’m walking through the front door.
“I missed you too, Shirley,” I respond with a weak smile. “I need coffee, obviously.”
“For the life of me, I don’t know how you sleep with the amount of caffeine you consume.”
“Sleep is overrated,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Plus, I’d need a place to stay if I wanted to sleep,” I add under my breath as I walk to my booth. Shirley must have hearing like a hawk because she stops what she’s doing behind the counter and immediately turns in my direction.
“What do you mean you don’t have a place to stay, honey? I thought you were here for work? They don’t put you up in some fancy hotel? Not that there are any fancy hotels in this area. Where have you been staying?”
“Well, I stayed two nights at the motel in town, but then I had that minor ‘incident’ with the break-in, so I haven’t stayed there since,” I say, adding air quotes to soften one of the most intense situations I’ve had to deal with as an adult.
“Minor? It didn’t sound so minor from what the locals in town have said.
” The quirk of Shirley’s eyebrow tells me she doesn’t believe it was minor at all, but thankfully, she somehow knows I don’t want to discuss that tonight.
“What about those strapping young men you’ve been in here with? You can’t stay with either of them?”
“Shirley, nobody says ‘strapping’ anymore.” I can’t keep the humor out of my voice at her 1950s vocabulary. Very on theme for the decade it feels like you’re in when sitting in this diner, though.
“Well, what word would you use to describe them then?”
“Confusing?”
“Are you asking or telling me, dear?”
“Telling you?”
“Sounds like the word you are looking for is flummoxed.”
“Really? Flummoxed? What year do you think it is, Shirley? Seriously… Tell me what year we are in right now?”
“Stop it.” She swats me away in a playful gesture. “Let me grab your coffee, and you can tell me what has you looking like that.” She waved her hand in a general circular motion in front of my face.
“I don’t think there is enough coffee in New York to have that conversation.”
“Well, we can start with the coffee in this diner and go from there.” With that, Shirley leaves me to stew in silence while she begrudgingly prepares my iced coffee just how I like it. I think she secretly loves having someone to fuss over and gossip with.
Shirley returns with a flourish of her hands as she presents the largest iced coffee I’ve ever seen, piled high with extra whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.
“Shirley, you are my hero.”
“You’re only saying that because I am the gatekeeper of your caffeine addiction. And for the record, this isn’t coffee, my dear. It’s sugar with an essence of caffeine. Coffee is meant to be served hot and black—just how I like my men.”
“Miss Shirley!I am scandalized!” I gasp, clutching at my imaginary pearls.
“Says the woman who was in here two nights in a row with two different men.” Her eyebrow quirks high enough to reach under her perfectly curled and hairsprayed bangs.
“Well, for your information, one of them was an old friend from high school, and the other is a client. Nothing untoward happening here, I assure you. Well, nothing untoward happening inside this diner that is.” I add the last part a little quieter, but of course Shirley doesn’t miss a beat.
“Ha! I knew it. You can’t spend time with men who look like that and not have something happen. And what do you mean was an old friend? You two looked pretty friendly to me in the parking lot.”
“Shirley! You little minx! Were you spying on us?” I can feel my cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. God, did she see him pull away and leave me pressed up against my car panting like a fool?
“Sweetie, I wouldn’t call it spying when you are in a public parking lot.” I can tell she’s trying to hide her smile.
“God, I’m so embarrassed.” I drop my head into my hands, covering my face. Now I have to add this diner to the list of places I can never show my face in.
“Don’t be. You’re young and hot. If I were twenty years younger, I would climb those men like a tree.”
“Shirley!”
“What? You can’t tell me you don’t find them attractive. You have eyes, and I don’t see a ring on your finger. Live a little. You are only young and hot once. Don’t waste those years on worrying about what other people think. Take what you want in life and leave the rest.”
“Unfortunately, finding them attractive isn’t the issue. It’s everything else that comes with that attraction I’m struggling with.”
“Hmm. Let me grab a real coffee, and you can tell me all about it. It’s a slow night, and I could use a break to give my feet a rest.”
And that’s exactly what she does. I tell her everything from seeing Luc for the first time after fifteen years and him kissing me (which she clearly already knew about) to the events of earlier this evening with Dante.
It feels nice to talk to another woman about this stuff.
It’s what I imagine it would’ve been like to have had a mother to confide in growing up.
Someone to give me advice and listen to my issues without judgment.
I try not to dwell on how things could’ve been different if I hadn’t been left as a baby, but it’s times like these that make it a little harder to ignore.
“Thank you, Shirley. You have no idea how much I needed this. And I don’t just mean the coffee.”
“My pleasure, dear. I don’t get a lot of customers in here these days, and the ones I do get are typically just passing through. I’m here anytime you need some girl talk. I’m happy to live vicariously through you.”
“Well, I will definitely be taking you up on that. I have several more weeks on this project, and the more time I can spend out of that house, the better. I should get going, though. It’s a long drive back to the city.”
“Sweetie, you are not driving back to the city at this hour.”
“Well, it’s too late to get a room at that motel, and I don’t feel safe staying there anyway.”
“You know you have another option.”
“Shirley, no. I can’t face him tonight. Not after he rejected me and then yelled at me. Plus, I’m sure he’s asleep by now anyway.”
“Just call him and see. You won’t know until you do.”
“Ugh, fine! Just this once and only because it’s late and I don’t feel like driving home.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, dear.” Her smirk tells me she isn’t buying my lie.
Of course I want to stay with Dante, but facing him after he kissed me and then pushed me away will be brutal.
I’ll just have to pretend I am unaffected on the outside while I’m dying a little on the inside.
Fake it till you make it or whatever they say.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shirley. Have a good rest of your night.” And with that, I’m back in my car and driving toward Dante’s place, giving myself some time to build up my walls before facing him again.