Take Your Time (Fate and Circumstance #2) (10 page)

I watched as fat, heavy tears rolled past her lids, cascading down her cheeks before falling to the tile below us. I’d never heard her say those things before—not about Clari and me, not about my mom, how she felt about us before meeting us…none of it. I remembered the day she first came to our home, and thinking back to it formed knots in my stomach. Remembering how Mom had sat us down to tell us about Bree, about how she was going to be living with us, and how we needed to treat her with compassion and love. That was the definition of my mom, compassionate and loving, believing with her whole heart that if everyone treated people that way, the world would be a better place. She knew how unrealistic it was, but that didn’t stop her from greeting everyone within ten feet of her with a smile, or stopping to offer comfort to a crying stranger on the street.

“I
am
talking to someone.” Tears blurred my vision, but it felt as if they clouded my brain and thoughts. I had no idea what I was saying or why, but I didn’t care. My contempt had become so instilled in me that I couldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie. I had to constantly fight back, keep the mask perfectly in place so no one would see the truth. Even with Bree. It didn’t matter that she could call my bullshit, or that she knew me better than anyone else. I still found the need to make her believe that I was all right. That I was getting better. Even if it was a lie.

Her brows arched. She glared at me with skepticism. “Really? Who?”

Names and faces flashed through my mind at warp speed. She knew all the girls at the salon, and I hadn’t spoken to any of my friends in months. She’d know that was a lie if I’d given one of their names, so I blurted out the first name I knew she wouldn’t question. “Bentley.” It wasn’t a complete lie. After all, I had opened up to him. I
did
talk to him.

She sat back, slumping against the dishwasher behind her with a huff, her shoulders hunched forward and head hanging in defeat. “I meant a professional, Sarah. But I guess I can’t complain. At least you’re talking to
some
one. Even if it is a fuck buddy.”

“Why would you think he’s a fuck buddy? Because he’s a guy? And
Sarah sleeps with every man she knows
?” Red-hot anger pulsed through my veins with each passing second, and it showed in my accusations as I practically spat out each word.

“No. Stop hearing what you want to hear, and start listening to what people are actually saying. You sent me a picture of his license plate Saturday night, as well as his name. Bentley isn’t exactly a name I’d forget in four days. Not to mention, I’m well aware of what you do on the weekends, Sarah. You admitted to going out with him, getting in his truck and leaving with him. So it’s not a far reach to put two and two together.”

“Not that I need to justify myself to you or anyone else, but he’s not my fuck buddy. We didn’t have sex. We went to Macy’s Diner and talked.” I thought I’d feel better after admitting that, feel like I’d won the argument, but I didn’t. The vindication never came. My chest heaved with exertion from trying to force air in my lungs, my throat so full of fire I could barely swallow. The need to cry became unbearably strong, but the need to hide was even greater. I’d become a liar.

“Have you seen him since? Talked to him since Saturday night?”

“Yes. I saw him Monday. And we talked some more.”

“Is he a therapist or something?”

“No,” I said with a sheepish grin. Thoughts of Bentley flooded my mind and it began to ease the tension in my body, making it easier to breathe. “He’s a horse trainer.”

“Does he have siblings?” Genuine interest showed in her barely raised eyebrows and in the faint smile that gently pulled on her lips.

“Yes, he has two brothers. He’s the youngest of the three. I don’t remember their names, but one is an engineer and the other is a detective.” I wanted to tell her everything I knew to really make it believable. I didn’t want her to doubt my lie.

But the one thing I hadn’t expected was how much I remembered about him. I never cared enough to remember anything random guys would tell me. But for some reason, what he’d told me stuck. And the more I thought about it, the more of what he’d said to me that night came to mind. And then a smile formed on my lips, growing wide and burning my cheeks at the memory of our Waffle House conversation.

“You like this guy?” she asked quietly, almost as if she thought speaking too loudly would scare me off.

“What? No. We’ve just talked.”

“About your mom? About how you feel?” Hopefulness filled her warm tone and it washed over me, flooded me, and then left me unsettled by her compassion. I knew she only wanted me to be okay, and I appreciated that, but I wasn’t her, nor was I Clari. I couldn’t just wake up tomorrow morning and be happy again.

“I’ve discussed my mom, told him about her dying. We’ve talked about how I’ve handled it since then, how I spend my weekends, how I hold everything in.” I knew I sounded believable, even though it technically bordered on being a lie. But I spoke with confidence, strong and steady words, and I knew she wouldn’t question it.

Her posture relaxed some as she settled further against the dishwasher. “Well, good. I’m happy you’re finally opening up to someone. When are you going to see him again?” Of course, she had to ask the one question I couldn’t lie convincingly about.

“I don’t know.” I gave her a one-shoulder shrug, hoping to come across as nonchalant instead of insecure. Truth was, even though I’d walked away from him, practically kicked him out of my life—again—it didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about him. It didn’t mean the bell on the door of the salon hadn’t caused my heart to skip a beat every time someone walked through it, hoping it’d be Bentley’s face I’d see.

“Just promise me you won’t push him away, too. If he’s getting you to open up about things, getting you to talk about your problems, then I pray he’s around for a while. I really hope you give it a chance instead of closing off. I can’t continue to watch you self-destruct. I love you, Sarah. I just want you to be happy again. I miss my best friend.”

Her sincerity
physically
hurt me like a steel rod to my chest, hitting me with the speed of a professional baseball player’s pitch. The pain was probably more from my regret than her words, but whatever it was, I had to rub the spot over my heart in order to ease the ache left behind by yet another emotion I’d tried to lock away. Ever since Bentley had nudged my shoulder at the bar, my emotions wouldn’t stay buried, as if he’d pushed me back to reality.

“I miss you, too.”

“Enough of this sappy shit,” she said with a laugh and stood up, pulling me with her. “You promised to be my maid of honor, and you have yet to even try on a dress. The wedding is in less than six weeks and you’re about to bring out the bridezilla in me.”

I’d avoided going dress shopping with her, knowing I’d do nothing but sit there and sulk at the thought of my mom not being part of it all. And then I’d completely break down at the realization that one day, it could be my turn to try on wedding dresses, and Mom wouldn’t be there for that, either. It was utterly selfish of me to keep from being a part of this journey with her, but I couldn’t help it. Just the thought of sitting in a bridal shop surrounded by white wedding dresses, watching other soon-to-be brides and their mothers, it felt like a hundred sharp knives to my heart. But Bree was right—I had promised to not only be in her wedding, but to be her maid of honor, and I had to follow through with that. If only she’d asked me after I’d gone to check on my mom, then my answer would’ve been different.

“Fine. Let’s go. I know you well enough to know that if I don’t, you’ll have me wearing the most hideous dress imaginable. Which, I want you to know, will only lead to me giving the worst toast in the history of toasts. Things could get very ugly after that.”

Her contagious laugh bounced off the walls as she made her way to the living room to get Ayla. “Yes, Sarah, for the safety of our future relationship, let’s get you fitted for your dress.”

I ended up needing to try on three dresses—the first two being too big for my now slight frame—and then a woman with an honest to goodness mustache stuck pins in the fabric and used a measuring tape on practically every part of my body. I had an odd feeling that she was really a man in disguise, and used this job to see and touch nearly-naked women on a daily basis. The way her hands held my ass could in no way be considered appropriate.

Being there hadn’t been as bad as I’d expected. Probably because I didn’t have to see anyone try on gowns, and I’d spent most of my time in the fitting room. I was just thankful Bree didn’t push the issue. Not once did she talk about the wedding other than to mention the colors. It made it less formal and easier to deal with.

After leaving there, I went back home while Bree met up with Axel for dinner. She’d asked me to join them, but I politely declined the offer. It seemed as though I’d had enough girl time for one day. I wanted to be alone. I needed space to breathe and think. I needed the quietness of my house in order to gather my thoughts, to settle down, to allow myself to feel without being forced.

But that proved to be a bad decision. Breathing, thinking,
feeling
…it was all too much for me. Every thought and emotion that had evaded me at the bridal shop came roaring to life in the silence around me, burning me from the inside out, choking me until I couldn’t take a full gulp of air. I thought I’d been in the clear, but once the chaos of sizing, colors, and Ayla’s energy vanished, my mind fell into the darkness once more. I’d managed to avoid the planning process of Bree’s wedding, and had convinced myself that I’d never get married—I didn’t want it. But then I’d gazed into Bentley’s eyes and had seen this bright and promising future. Even if it were only for a moment, I’d allowed myself to believe it could happen. It wasn’t until coming home from the bridal shop when everything hit me all at once. No matter how nice it would be to love again and find happiness, I’d never be able to walk down an aisle. My mom wouldn’t be there. And even though I had Wayne— technically my dad—
my
father wouldn’t be there. I was literally an orphan.

I became overwhelmed and fraught, convinced I needed to turn off the emotions, needing a physical release to erase the compounding feelings that coursed through me. But I had no one to call. I thought about heading to a bar, grabbing the first guy I saw, and taking him someplace quiet. But I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do that, either. My hands shook from anxiety, and I knew they’d assume I was a crack addict looking for a fix. Not to mention, the idea of finding someone for a quickie turned me off for reasons I didn’t want to comprehend. I didn’t want a stranger that I had to imagine a connection with; I yearned for a
real
connection. The kind that would make me feel scatterbrained and weightless. A connection that left a person impulsive. But the only time I ever felt that kind of link, that kind of impulsivity, was when Bentley crossed my mind. However, I couldn’t have him.

So why did I constantly think of him? If I truly wanted him out of my life, like I’d claimed so many times, why couldn’t I get him out of my head? It was as if I loved the idea of him, but hated the reality of what he stood for.

Contentment.

Completeness.

Commitment.

I hated how he’d managed to effortlessly dig so deep within me that I now felt inside out. But what I hated most was how I wished I’d see him again. I guess I was a glutton for pain.

Addicted to the agony.

Craved the ache only he could give me.

At least that meant I was capable of feeling
something
. I wasn’t
completely
dead inside.

As I curled into a ball and cried, letting it all out like I’d grown accustomed to, I thought about Bentley’s effect on me. I thought about all the ways he’d embedded himself in my mind, all the ways he’d been able to make me feel something when I’d closed myself off. And it only made me want him more. It made me yearn to have him rip me open, bring my suffering to the surface, and then heal me with his touch. Heal me with his words, his deep voice. I needed him to break me, and then put me back together again.

If only I hadn’t pushed him away.

Thursday morning, I woke up late and had to run through the salon to the back, needing to put away my things in my cabinet space and catch my breath before going out on the floor like a disheveled mess.

Carrie, one of the other stylists that had been there almost as long as I had, was already in the room, pouring a cup of coffee. She held out the pot, offering me a cup, but I shook my head, declining the gesture. I reached into the small fridge and found the last can of Coke in the back, and made a mental note to restock my supply.

“So what’s up with the hottie?” Carrie asked, leaning her back against the counter. Her question came as a surprise, considering we’d never really spoken about guys. She was nice, and we got along at work, but our conversations never really drifted into the friendly subjects, typically sticking to hair and client gossip.

I shrugged, lowering my gaze to the floor. Just the mention of Bentley did something to me—made my pulse speed up, my cheeks redden, and my thoughts jumble. “Nothing to tell.”

“Are you seeing him, or is he fair game?”

It was an honest question coming from a single, good-looking woman. Yet it annoyed me. It wasn’t like I owned him or anything, and I definitely had no idea what I needed from him—
wanted
from him—but the mere thought of someone else going after him had my mouth going dry and my head spinning.

“If you’re interested in him, it’s cool. I wouldn’t step on your toes. I was just curious if there was anything going on between you two. I couldn’t get a good read on it Monday.”

I set my can down on the counter. I’d meant to gently place it down, but I ended up nearly slamming it, sloshing some of the brown-colored liquid out of the mouth hole and onto my hand. “To be honest with you, Carrie, I have no idea what we have, or what I’m looking for. I met him less than a week ago, and then he popped in to see me. I don’t even know how he feels about me, so if you want to take a go at him, feel free. Don’t let me stop you.” I’d said it because I wanted to appear strong, in control, yet the words tasted and sounded acrid as they came out. They left me feeling anything but strong and in control. They made me weak and frantic.

I had to remind myself that he was more than likely long gone given I hadn’t seen nor heard from him since Monday. After the night we met, it’d taken him thirty-six hours to come after me, yet since then, it’d been over sixty. Over sixty hours—more than two days—and nothing from him. I had to take that to mean he’d lost interest, he’d finally taken the hint I had given him, but it was no longer clear in my mind what I wanted.

“You playing hard to get?” she asked, pulling my attention from my pathetic thoughts.

“No, Carrie. I’m not playing anything.”

“I saw the way you walked away from him…”

I had to grit my teeth to keep from lashing out at her. It would be completely unprofessional if I allowed my anger to get the best of me, so I kept it in and displayed a phony smile on my face. “All of which is none of your business. Like I’ve already said, I have no idea what’s going on between us. I walked away from him for personal reasons—reasons he’s aware of. Reasons that don’t concern you, that don’t belong being discussed at work.”

She bit her lip and glanced down at her leopard-print pumps, her chest rising with deep breaths. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just saw the way you guys looked at each other. I’m envious, if I’m being honest. I didn’t mean to push you. I only thought if I threw it out there, it might help you figure out what you want.”

“Why do you care what I want?”

Her glossy eyes met mine as the corners of her lips tugged timidly into a soft, sweet smile. Then a light sigh slipped through her parted lips, her unshed tears forming along her lower lashes. “I really liked this guy once. And I think he liked me, too. But at the time, I was still wrapped up in my ex and what he’d done to me. He’d hurt me pretty bad, and I guess I let the fear of opening myself up to someone new get in the way of what could be between us. By the time I figured it all out, sorted through my feelings and made the decision to go for it, it was too late. I remember calling him like fifty times that day, excited to tell him how I felt and that I wanted to see what we could have together. I didn’t know it until later, but he’d gotten in a really bad motorcycle accident that morning and died.” She wiped away a lone tear from her cheek, her glistening, pain-filled eyes never leaving mine. “Moral of the story…don’t waste too much time, because time is one thing you’re never guaranteed in life.”

Her words seeped into me. They wrapped around my neck and squeezed, making me dizzy with the lack of oxygen supplied to my brain.
Time is one thing we’re never guaranteed in life
. No truer words had ever been spoken.

“Thank you, Carrie.” My whispered voice broke, full of raw emotion and understanding. I couldn’t say anything more, knowing if I tried, the words would be accompanied by tears.

I took one more swig of my Coke and left the room without looking back. Carrie needed a moment to herself as badly as I did, but I had a client waiting for me, and I didn’t need to greet her with fresh tears on my face.

Marlo stood behind the counter, going through her checklist on the computer as I walked up. She caught my attention and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, questioning if I was okay. I gave her a single nod, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders to prove it. With a genuine smile, she glanced behind me, signaling that my client was here and waiting.

I spun around, flattening the front of my black dress with my sweaty palms. But my hands froze over my stomach and my shoulders dropped at the sight of him. I turned my head back to Marlo and asked, “This is my client?”

“Yes.” She checked over the schedule briefly before saying, “Bentley Cole.”

My breath bottled in my chest as I became aware of every noise, every movement of air around me. I didn’t want this lighthearted feeling to end, but I wasn’t sure where it would lead me. I’d cried all night long, wanting him, but now that he stood only a few feet away from me, I didn’t know what to do. I had so many unanswered questions, but I didn’t know how to word them without coming off rude and antsy. Honestly, I didn’t care why he was here, I was simply glad he was. I had no explanation for the things he made me feel, the acceptance he sought to give me…I just knew I wanted it. Craved it.

Bentley cleared his throat, reminding me of his presence. I peered up at him through my lashes, and with one look into those dark, intense green eyes, the last of my resolve slipped away. My heels barely came off the floor as I took two steps, closing the distance between us, and fell into him. My hands gripped the sides of his shirt as I pressed my face against the hard planes of his chest, letting the low, steady rhythm of his heart soothe me as he held me in his arms.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, yet it sounded muffled and deep as I heard his words reverberate through his body. They were full of trepidation and worry.

“I think you broke me.” I tried to laugh, but it came out a sad and pathetic giggle past the lump in my throat.

“Impossible,” he whispered into my hair. “You can’t break a diamond.”

I pulled back, releasing my hold on him, and shook my head with a smile. “I’m not a diamond. Diamonds sparkle and shine. They bring people happiness. I’m one of those rocks people think are worth something until they take a closer look. I leave them disappointed.” I hadn’t meant to sound so depressed and gloomy, it was meant to be a joke, yet it seemed more like the truth once it’d been spoken aloud.

“You’re wrong. Diamonds come from deep inside the earth and are formed by really high pressure over billions of years. Volcanic eruptions bring them close to the surface, so they’re covered with layers of cooled magma. That’s what you are. You’ve suffered a lot of pressure, your life was disturbed by a massive eruption, and you’re hiding out just beneath the surface, waiting to be found. To the untrained eye, you’re a piece of black coal, but in reality, you’re just covered by protective layers until someone breaks through, giving you your moment to shine.”

His flushed cheeks and soft words told me he was sincere, yet my laugh couldn’t be contained. It rippled through me until I couldn’t breathe. “Let me guess… You’re the person I’ve been waiting to find me? And you’re going to break through my protective layer of
magma
so I can shine? I’m not Lucy, and this isn’t some Beatles song.”

He shrugged and smiled timidly back at me, but that didn’t hide his embarrassment. His head fell forward as he gripped the back of his neck, his gaze falling to our shoes. “It got you to laugh, didn’t it?”

Once my giggles faded, I remembered where we were, standing near the front doors of the salon in front of my boss. I cleared my throat, composing myself. “What are you in here for today, Bentley? Another shampoo? You enjoyed the last one so much, you came back for more?”

His cheeks flamed red as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets and rocked on the heels of his black, steel-toed boots. His demeanor was cute. It made him seem boyish. “Nah. I actually came in for a cut this time.”

“Okay. I can do that. Come with me.” I spun around, leaving him to follow me back to my station. “What is it you want me to do to it? Want to get rid of this?” I ran my fingers through the longer parts of his hair.

He sat down in the chair and faced the mirror, but he never took his eyes off my reflection. “No. I actually like it. I just need a trim.”

I studied the style and took a peek at the ends. “When was the last time you had it cut?” I narrowed my gaze at him through the mirror. The gig was up.

“Last Friday.”

“Less than a week ago?” I rolled my eyes and moved to stand in front of him, leaning against the counter. “Spill it, Bentley. You don’t need a trim. So why are you here?”

“How else am I supposed to see you?”

His flattery warmed me, more than I’d expected it to, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “Gee, I don’t know, how about the many ways that normal people see each other. I’m sure the majority of them don’t stalk people at their place of employment. Or waste money on haircuts they don’t need. Do you have any idea how much I charge for this?”

“Yes, I’m fully aware of the cost. But I don’t care. Let’s face it, Sarah, you’re not the dating kind of girl. You’ve said so yourself. Normal people ask other normal people out to dinner when they want to see them. The last time I saw you, you kicked me out of the salon. I think I made the right assumption when I figured asking you out for dinner wasn’t an option. I decided to take my time, break through a few layers of your magma first.”

“So what’s your plan? Just keep coming in here twice a week for shampoos and cuts you don’t need? Wait it out until I feel bad enough for you and take you up on your offer for dinner? And then what? What is it you’re looking for from me?”

His gaze fell to his lap as he twisted his lips, biting the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know.” His voice was clear, not a hint of deception detected. “None of this was planned. I was supposed to go back home, but since meeting you, I can’t seem to actually do it. I can’t find it in me to throw my bags in the back of the truck and take off. I need to know you’re okay. I need to know that when I leave here, you’ll be stronger than when I found you.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, Bentley,” I whispered, not trusting my voice enough to speak any louder. “Think about it logically. You met a complete stranger in a bar. It wasn’t all sweet looks and sexy smiles. I pissed you off, made you walk out. You’d gone in for a drink, and left without one because I verbally assaulted you. Then you spent God knows how long in the parking lot lecturing me, arguing with me. The only reason why you even spent time with me was because you didn’t want me to drive. What about any of that made you stay?”

“You said a lot at the diner. And it made me think. Life’s too short to live it sad and alone. And you deserve better.”

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record…you don’t know me. How could you possibly know I deserve better? How do you know I’m not a terrible person who’s made horrible decisions?”

“I already told you, I’m good at reading people.”

“You’re obviously not that great at it, because you thought I was drunk when I left the bar.”

“I didn’t think you were drunk. But it’s not safe to drive after having
any
thing to drink.”