Chapter 8 - Hazel
Hazel
“Can you believe that?” I said to Thomas. I still couldn’t believe he’d offer me something like that. Yes, because I was the kind of girl who got an expensive trip to Europe with all expenses paid with a single guy who had never been in a serious relationship. Not that the last part mattered.
“Well, he has a point,” Thomas said out of nowhere.
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know the details, and even if you trust the guy, but he’s right. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks, even months.”
“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad.”
“When’s the last time you left on time? You always stay late, take shifts no one else wants. You’ve worked more hours this month than the new hipster boy, Dereck, in the past three months combined. You definitely deserve a break.” Thomas was spitting out facts, and I didn’t like that.
“Still, it’s two weeks, not a couple of days. Linda will never approve that.”
“You leave Linda to me. I’ll handle her.”
“What if he kills me and leaves me in Europe?”
“I’ll sneeze in his coffee for the rest of my days here. Plus, I’ll tell every girl he hits on that he has gonorrhea.”
“Thomas—a man with a plan,” I laughed. We moved on to lighter topics, like the annual betting pool for how many pumpkin spice lattes we’d sell this fall.
I’d lost last year, but this year, I was determined to win.
We also talked about Thomas’s summer plans with his daughter, Dina.
I helped her with schoolwork and piano lessons now and then.
She was smart, though she hated those chords.
Once we closed up the shop, I lingered. Lately, I’d been heading home with Thomas or Laney, but tonight he had other plans and was walking in the opposite direction. I could’ve asked him to come with me to the bus stop, but I hesitated. I didn’t want to impose.
I stepped outside and paused. The stillness hit me first, so loud it made me aware of the irrational fears lurking in my mind.
The city seemed too quiet for a weekday.
I looked around, scanning for threats, even as I told myself I was being silly.
I took a deep breath of the cool spring air and moved forward.
An hour later, I was walking up the stairs to my apartment. When I reached the door, a note caught my eye, taped to the frame in bold, heavy letters: “Let’s talk.” Panic took over. I chaotically searched my bag for the keys, rushed inside, and locked the door.
I told myself to breathe, even as tears stung the corners of my eyes. It was just nerves. Exhaustion. I’d been running on fumes for weeks. It had to be stress. I made my way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine.
You’re panicking over nothing. It’ll pass. He’ll calm down.
I let the cold wine gush down my throat and stared at the mess in my living room. Dozens of books watched me from the shelf, silently judging me. That’s what I got for idolizing Mr. Darcy and the March sisters. I needed to start packing.
And I’d need help with the boxes, though just thinking about it made my stomach tighten.
I struggled with that—asking for help. As ridiculous as it sounded, if I ever found myself completely broke and desperate, I’d rather take out a loan from a bank than borrow from family.
The weight of owing someone felt like an invisible string of burden.
Me. I was the burden.
And history had taught me not to be one anymore. It also taught me to be a strong, independent woman, or whatever society expected at this age, but I wasn’t delusional. I had the muscle strength of a medium-sturdy Jell-O shot.
Suddenly, my phone screen lit up with a photo of Mady and me at the beach.
“Hey, babe, what are you doing?” Her voice was always like soda fizz, rushing out of the can the second you pop it.
“Hey, just got off work. You?”
“Just now? It’s like 11:30 PM.”
“Well, New York never sleeps. How else would you get bad sushi at 3 AM?” I laughed.
“Listen, we have a date.”
“For the wedding? That’s great. When?”
“April 15.”
“What?” I blinked. “That’s in two weeks.”
“Next year, dummy.”
“Oh, right. That’s a long time, considering you’ve been engaged for months.”
“Yeah, we figured there’s no rush. We want to plan without stress, and I travel a lot, so having more time helps.”
“That makes sense.”
“But I’m not sure if it’s this year’s birthday gift or next year’s.”
“What gift?”
“Me asking you to be my maid of honor for your birthday. It’s around the corner.” Her excitement was evident.
“Oh, Mady.” My cheeks warmed. “Of course, I’ll be your maid of honor. I love you.” The warmth between us was the kind only chosen family could offer.
“Okay, don’t get too sentimental. It’s gonna be a lot of work,” Mady said, tissues rustling in the background.
“It’ll be worth it,” I raised my wine glass in a silent toast.
“Well, not tonight. You sound exhausted.”
“What’s with everyone today? I’m fine.” Did I really look that bad?
“Who’s ‘everyone’?” she asked.
“You, Thomas, Luke...”
“Luke? Who’s Luke?”
“You know, corporate-suit Luke. The guy who’s always running around with different girls. Sunday walk-of-shame Luke. Usually arrives with his colleagues. I recently found out one of them makes questionable tattoo choices. Funny guys.”
“Oh, the hot Luke who hits on you. The one I’ve told you a million times to hook up with? The strong, athlete Luke?”
“Athlete?”
“I stalked him on Instagram. He’s a gym bro. And very sexy.”
“Not surprised you have that information.”
“Wait, he said you look exhausted? Rude. He’s not wrong, though.”
“Right?! Wait, no. Who says that to a person? Then offers me a random vacation. Like, who does that? I don’t even know him that well.”
“Hold up, what? Details. I need more details.”
I reenacted the conversation with Luke, pointing out how ridiculous his offer was.
“Hazel, are you crazy? You have to go.”
“Is it me who’s drinking, or you? I can’t go.”
“Why not? You need rest, and it seems I’m not the only one who thinks that. It’s a paid vacation to a place you’ve been, with the language you know. WITH A HOT GUY, HELLO!”
“I’m not gonna hook up with him. He’s sleeping with a different girl every other day. Plus, I’m not interested in him.”
“Yeah, Hazel, I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear the garbage you just said.
He’s everyone’s type. Also, I remember how you described him the first time you told me about him.
But whatever, even if you believe all that, you don’t have to hook up with him.
Just go on the trip, get some rest. Leave me all the names, numbers, and addresses.
I’ll call the embassies and make sure you don’t get kidnapped. I’ve got you, girl!”
I was trying to form any kind of protest in my head, but I was too tired to argue, unsure of what to say.
“I can’t ask him for a vacation just because I need rest. It’s selfish and ridiculous.” My voice dropped.
“Babe, it seems you don’t have to ask, since he already offered it. Just take the opportunity. Take a chance. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You telling me ‘I told you so’ forever?” I sighed, setting down my glass.
“That’s a chance you will have to take.”
We talked for a few minutes. Just before hanging up, I promised to let her know about Luke’s offer, even though I already knew I had no intention of accepting it.
* * *
Over the next two days, I worked and organized my apartment.
The process didn’t go as planned because I had no boxes, so I just made piles and sorted everything.
I had spoken to Ernesto at the bookshop I often visited, and he promised to give me some boxes after their next big shipment.
In return, I offered to help stock the shelves, which was great because I got first dibs on the new arrivals.
There was a lot to do today, so I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on my jeans and favorite blue sweater, and headed out.
On my way, I swung by Mrs. Green’s. I had promised to pick up the miracle cat food she claimed made Fluffles age backward. The store was twelve blocks away, and since her hip surgery, she couldn’t go there herself. In exchange, I had to accept her cookies and an exceptionally long hug.
I stopped at O’Riley’s for coffee and grabbed one for Ernesto as well. I dropped off the book I’d promised Thomas’s daughter last time and took the last cherry doughnut.
Keane blasted through my headphones as I walked through the fresh spring air toward the bookstore. It always made me a little sad. My mom loved Keane. We had always planned to see them live someday, but life got in the way.
Passing through Central Park, bittersweet memories of my time with her flooded my mind. But at the end of the day, I was always left with love despite the painful sting in my heart.
Before I even opened the door, Ernesto was already smiling through the window.
“Hey, got you some coffee.” I handed him the cup and glanced at the madness on the floor. Tens of boxes filled with freshly delivered books. I was so gonna smell them all. Were you even allowed to read books if you didn’t enjoy smelling them in secret?
“Oh, thanks. As you can see, I need all the help I can get today. Caffeinated and non-caffeinated.”
We chatted for a few minutes before I dove in. He explained the process of unboxing, registering, and shelving the books. It took me longer than it should have since I had to inspect each one for my own enjoyment. Three hours later, I’ve gotten faster, folding and stacking boxes in the corner.
I slid the last books into place and spun too fast, not watching where I was going.
I collided hard with a broad chest, the impact stealing my breath and forcing my eyes shut.
A warm rush of cinnamon and earth flooded over me, like the hush of old forest paths where time never seemed to move.
Then a hand. Strong yet unhurried, resting lightly on my side, holding me steady.
Somewhere through the haze, a low, velvet voice edged with concern asked, “Are you okay?”