Worth the Fall (25 page)

Before I could even contemplate if I wanted Max kissing me, he was gone.

TWENTY-FIVE

At this point, the dancing kittens didn’t even surprise me.
 

Wake me up in a cold, romance-fearing panic? Yes.
 

Surprise me? No.

TWENTY-SIX

I laid in bed trying to figure out who to call. I had more than Jayne now, but at the same time, every woman in my life had pretty much married me off to Max before he’d stopped scowling at me 100% of the time. I’d say 80% was a huge improvement. If I called Jenna or Hailey, they’d give me a long and detailed reasoning of why Max was the best guy in the world even though neither of them were dating him. Plus, they write romance’y fiction. How trustworthy were they really on this front. The whole hearts and flowers thing was part of their job description.

If I called Jayne, she’d suggest getting him out of my system. You’d think the girl slept with every guy she walked past the way she pushed me to hop into bed with him. She’d always been a relationship girl. Maybe this was whatever she was going through coming out vicariously.
 

And that was my fear—well, my additional fear. Beyond the one about falling in with another guy who would keep me in the box he used to define me and losing myself again. I feared that there was no getting Max Darby out of my system.

So, I called the only woman I knew who might offer another view.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone was as familiar as my own.

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“Kasey, honey, it’s eight in the morning. Is everything okay?” Of course she’d start with that. Even though the woman gets up at six am every day.

“Yup. Just laying in bed about to start my day and thinking about you.”

“Really?” She sounded suspicious. Of course, two calls to my mother in one month was highly unusual. But, oddly, the last one hadn’t been as negative as usual. She hadn’t really gone to the extremes about Jason I thought she would. And me being pregnant had seemed like a fun idea to her.
 

Something was up.

“If I wasn’t thinking about you, I wouldn’t have thought to call you, right?” Logic was an excellent weapon with my over emotional parent.

“Well, that makes sense. So, how is your new business? I told Pam all about it and she even pulled out her new phone and looked you up on the Google and everything.”

“It’s just Google.”

“Right, the Google.”

“No, Mom. It isn’t
the
Google. It’s just Google.”

“Oh, well that’s one more thing Pam doesn’t know. I’ll have to tell her we’ve been using the Just Google.”

I closed my eyes and shook it off. I was just happy at this point she could use her remote controls without calling for help now.

“Anyway, we were looking at your website. It’s very pretty. Pam seemed surprised but I told her you’re
very
talented.”

This was news to me. Maybe instead of calling my mom, I should check in with Pam occasionally.

“That’s really nice, Mom. I’m really glad you like it.” And, as I said the words, I realized how true they were. I had never felt the direct approval of my mother before.
 

I stretched out in bed reveling in the moment, surprised how much it meant to me.

“So, what are you doing today that you’re still in bed?” In the background, I heard the coffee grinder kick-in for her to-go cup that she brought with her to work.

“Oh, bad dream.” Wasn’t that the truth? “Had a rough time getting going today.”

“I hate bad dreams. I used to have them all the time when you were little. I was always afraid I was going to do something that would get you hurt. I know it doesn’t sound reasonable now, but every little thing worried me. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I knew I was all you had so the only thing that was worse than something happening to you was something happening to me.”

Well, this was a morning of revelations.

“But,” she prompted, “I don’t think that’s why you’re calling me, is it?”
 

“Well, I’m not sure what you’ll say to this. I’m almost afraid to mention it but…”

I paused, stalling out, afraid to go on. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted someone picking Max apart. Especially someone who didn’t know him. And, after all those nice things she just said, I kind of hated to ruin the conversation.

“You met someone.” My mom said, a little laugh in her voice. “You met someone and listen to you panicking.”

“Hey!” This isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go.

“You didn’t call Jayne because she’ll tell you to just sleep with him, which, honey…I really hope Jayne isn’t as promiscuous as she pretends to be. She’s a nice girl under all that gruff. I’d hate to see something bad happen to her.”

I held the phone away from my ear to make sure I’d really called my mother.

“Well…Yes. I kind of met someone. Maybe. I think.”

“You don’t know?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

“I mean, yes. I met someone. I met several someones. That girl Jenna’s group of friends. They’re very nice.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve made some new girlfriends. But, like I said, if you really are pregnant and just not telling me, you can still come home. I told Bob he might have to help me paint the back room yellow.”

Bob?

“First off, I’m really not pregnant. And secondly,” I took in a deep breath, afraid I was going to not like the answer to this. “Who is Bob?”

“Oh, have I not told you about Bob?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, missy. Who is Bob?”

“He’s our new neighbor.” That’s my mom. I moved out almost a decade ago and she still calls him
our
neighbor. “He saw that a shutter was coming down so he fixed that and offered to take a look around at anything else I may have let slip.”

“Well, that sounds very nice.” And suspicious. “How old is this Bob guy?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple years older than me at least. But he’s very fit so it’s hard to tell.”

Mm-hmmm. Right.

“Mom, are you
dating
Bob?”

“Oh, no, honey. He’s just a neighbor. He fixes stuff around the house and I make him dinner or something to thank him.”

Great, my mother had a better social life than I did. Another reason I should be checking in with Pam. I was going to have to call my mom’s best friend just to make sure the world was staying on its axis.

“So, he helps you out around the house and you cook him dinner.” I considered my next question carefully. “And, do you pack him dinner or does he eat with you?”

“He eats here since it’s easier. And just nice to have someone around.” She sucked in a breath. “Kasey, what kind of interrogation is this?”

“I don’t know, are you feeling interrogated?”

“I’m wondering why our new neighbor is so interesting to you.”

I paused, considering my mother over the last few weeks and how less angry she’d been, how she’d not spent our conversations picking me or anyone else apart.

“Mom, are you happy?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I just want to know you’re happy.”

“Kasey, I’ll tell you this. I spent most of my life being afraid. I let that fear make me unhappy when there was no reason for it. Now, I’m making new friends and volunteering at the after school program and going to the gym. The only thing we really have to be afraid of is missing something. Everything else we can get over.” She let out a little embarrassed sounding laugh. “I’m so sorry to ramble like that. I’m sure you didn’t call to get a weird guru’y talk from me.”

I closed my eyes and smiled. “You know what? Maybe that was exactly what I needed.”

“Okay. Well, I love you, honey. Now, I’m off to Jazzercise with Pam.”
 

I laid there wondering a few things. If my mom could stop being afraid, was the world ending? Could I trust Max? And…people still did Jazzercise?

But, most of all, could I trust myself to take a chance on Max?

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Awesome. I was hoping you’d be here!” Jenna dropped into the comfy chair next to me and propped her feet on the beat up coffee table in front of us. “I have an opportunity for you. You’re going to be rich!”

That was a lot of excitement for this early. I wondered if Jenna actually saw exclamation points in her head when she spoke like that.

“What’s up?” I set my mocha down in case all those exclamations led to arm waving.

“I was showing a girl in my writing group your mockups for my new branding stuff and she was all
ooooh
and
ahhhh
and the guy at the table next to us kept glancing over, and then he asked who did the work and I
raved
about you and he gave me his card and asked to meet with you this week.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

“He loved it. He said from my obvious lack of website knowledge he’d assumed it would look like a standard theme just switched up for my color scheme, but that it was definitely personalized work. Just the kind of thing he was looking for.” She gave herself a little high-five. “I played it cool and took his card and now you need to email him.”

She held the smooth, cream card out to me, a huge smile on her face. I turned it over and read the front. John Simpson. Probably Opportunities, Owner.
 

Wow.
 

“I just have one question.” Jenna dug her wallet out of her bag and stood. “What’s a theme?”

I shook my head. The girl was a genius at what she did. I guess she could ignore everything else.

“It’s a basic set up for a blog or site that people just stylize to fit what they want.”

“So, it’s like going into The Gap and asking them to give you the outfit on the mannequin?”

“Um, yeah.” Why not? “Basically just like that.”

“Got it.” Jenna turned and bounced away to the counter while I stared at the card amazed at my first word-of-mouth sale. Amazed Jenna seemed to be my own personal fairy godmother. Everything was feeling so right.

I pulled up my new Lane Designs email account and shot John Simpson, Owner, a note right away with the preliminaries of what I was doing, attached links to other clients I’d done work for, and asked what questions I could answer for him.

Strike while the iron was hot. Plus, the only thing I really had to work on now was my own stuff since the wedding project for Mae was done. This was the perfect catalyst to get me moving.
 

I pulled out my to-do list and reordered it for a potential client. Pricing and finishing my own site bounced to the top right away. As in, do it now before your mocha cools, now.

Jenna settled back in across from me with her iced tea and flipped open her laptop.

“John said he’d want to meet with you in person to talk. He hates emails. He said something about a former partner, so I think he’s a little gun shy. After the initial contact, he’ll probably ask to meet you somewhere. He’s a little awkward, phrases things funny. Like, he can’t get his thoughts exactly out. He just kind of makes these half-statements and you have to fill in the rest while he figures out what he’s trying to say. I swear half the conversation was me playing Guess the Next Word with him. He seems like one of those geniuses that can’t focus on the day-to-day. But, I’m sure you’re used to dealing with the Less Than Clear in your profession.”

Unfortunately, that was true.

Jenna had been a dream client. She basically handed me her new covers with her publisher’s write up and said, can you make my stuff feel like this.

“I’m sure I can make it work.” I glanced at my email, waiting for the ding letting me know he’d emailed me back. I saw a long day of hitting refresh in front of me. “Thanks, Jenna. I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

I got to work on the final touches of my website and the brochure I’d need to print out if I was going to bring it with me to a face-to-face. One thing I did know about high ranking, eccentric clients: They wanted all the info and they wanted to be able to look at it over and over again.
 

I focused on getting it perfect. On getting it done. I focused on my pitch and my plan. I focused on what I could wear and how I would sell myself.

I focused on everything but Max Darby.

And that was probably for the best.

~~*~~

John had a dinner meeting downtown with out-of-town clients the next night but wanted to meet in the lounge beforehand to have a preliminary discussion.

The great news was, I could write it off. The not so great news was, I had to dress up.
 

I wandered through the hotel lobby and into the lounge, glad I’d still had a black sheath dress and little sweater for business meetings not packed away. I hadn’t considered I’d still need to wear I’m A Grown-up Clothes now that I was typically working out of a café in yoga pants.