by Lexy Timms
It was a nice surprise to know I would be able to spend some time with Luke today. We weren’t dating, but we were friends and it was nice to be able to hang out with him. If he asked me to go to the beach, I would do it. I had been rejecting the offers the last few days, but I had to try and snap out of the funk I was in.
“Have a good day,” I called out when I heard him leaving the room without saying so much as goodbye.
I heard him mumble something as he walked away. He was disappointed in me. Of course. He was working so hard to find a way to fix me and I had rejected the one offer on the table. Not rejected, but I was still mulling it over.
I was still sitting at the table when I heard the back door open and close. A few seconds later Luke entered. He had a different smell about him. I inhaled and immediately recognized what was off. “How are you feeling?” I teased.
He groaned. “How did you know?”
“All the cologne in the world can’t hide the distinct odor of stale alcohol.”
“I showered.”
“It’s clinging to you.”
“I’m sorry,” he groaned.
“Get some coffee. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m good.”
“You don’t sound good.”
He chuckled. “Your dad woke me up a little earlier than I was expecting. I have a minor headache but I’ll be fine once I get some coffee pumping through my veins.”
I listened as he moved around before coming to sit at the table with me. “Did you go out last night?” I asked, finding it a bit odd he would go out partying on a Monday night. Truthfully, I was a little jealous.
“Not really,” he mumbled. “Just hung out with a friend.”
I nodded, wondering if it was a male or female friend. Again, I had no right to be jealous, but I was. I wanted to know if he was seeing someone else. “At a club?” I pressed, trying to sound interested without sounding like I was interrogating him.
“No,” he answered.
I took another bite of my toast and washed it down with some coffee. Something was off with him. “Did Lisa make it to Texas okay?”
He sighed. “Yes. She texted and let me know she was there.”
He was not interested in conversation. I understood. He was hungover and needed some time to wake up and get his juices flowing. I decided to quit trying to have a conversation with him and just let him enjoy his breakfast in silence. The quiet in the room only magnified the tension between us.
“I’m going to shower,” I said, getting up from the table.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, always the dutiful caregiver.
I smiled. “No, I can do this on my own. I’ve already got my clothes laid out for the day.”
“Alright, holler if you need me.”
For the first time that morning, he sounded normal. The coffee seemed to work. I walked out of the dining room, hoping by the time I showered and got dressed for the day, he would be back to his old self. I really didn’t like him hungover.
I took my time in the bathroom. I wished I could put on makeup, but I was not brave enough to try. I was terrified I would end up looking like a clown or poke my eye out. Not that they were serving any purpose at the moment, but I would rather have eyes that didn’t work than no eyes at all.
Walking out of my room, I listened for a clue as to where he might have been. I heard nothing, and wondered if he had gone back to the cottage for something. I moved down the hall to the living room, and pausing in the entry, I listened and immediately heard the soft snores of a hungover man sleeping it off. I smiled and very quietly left the room and headed to the solarium.
I could feel the sun through the windows and knew it was a nice day out. It would be a good day for the beach. If my eyes worked, I would already be down there. I would be walking along the beach, enjoying the peacefulness before the day got going and it was flooded with other beachgoers. It would also be a nice day to paint.
Painting was probably the one thing that was really pulling at me. It was the need to see art and beauty that had me leaning towards the surgery. I could be alone in the world if I was able to paint and view art. I let myself get lost in thought, thinking about what I would paint if I could see. I thought about the art museum in New York that I loved so much. I thought about my plans to travel the world and collect pieces of art from artists no one had ever heard of before and open my own gallery.
I could do none of that if I couldn’t see the damn art. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t hear you come out of your room,” Luke said.
Turning my head toward him, I smiled. “You were taking a little nap. I’m fine. I was just sitting here and soaking up the sun.”
“We should work out,” he said, sounding less than enthused with the idea.
Laughing softly, I said, “I think we can skip a day. I don’t want you to drop a weight on your head.”
“I won’t drop a weight on my head,” he snapped.
Flinching, I turned my face back towards the windows. He was in one hell of a mood. “Okay.”
I heard him flop down in one of the chairs furthest from me. I hated that there was something off between us. I couldn’t help but think something had happened last night. Not something, but someone. He had met someone and he was forced to leave her warm bed and come take care of an invalid.
“Is there anything you want to talk about,” I asked.
“No Bree. I’m fine. I’m sorry if I’m a little short today.”
“Is it stuff with your mom and sister?” I pressed, knowing I should just let it go. “You can talk to me about anything. Lord knows I’ve unburdened my soul on you more times than I can count.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” he insisted.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Yes.”
I licked my lips before plunging on. “Is there something on your mind? Something you would like to talk about—as my friend.”
He let out a long, drawn out sigh. “No, Bree. I’m fine. Why don’t we go for a swim?”
He was trying to distract me, and keep me occupied so he didn’t have to hang out with me. I hated being a burden. “Sure,” I said, without any real enthusiasm.
We managed to get through the afternoon without saying more than a few words to one another. It was one of the worst days I had ever spent with him. I was dying to know what was going on. If I could see his face, I could get a better read on the situation. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t see if his jaw was clenched or if his eyes were flashing with anger. I didn’t know if had tears in his eyes or if he was suffering with some kind of pain. I knew none of that because I couldn’t see him.
I fought the urge to stomp my feet and scream at the universe for dealing me the hand I’d been given. When I heard him curse under his breath while he was making us a late snack, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had tried to give him his space and it wasn’t working for me. Call me nosy, but I needed to know what the fuck was happening two feet away from me.
“Luke, please, will you just tell me what it is that’s bothering you? Don’t say there’s nothing wrong. You’ve hardly spoken today. I can hear your breathing and know something is weighing heavy on your shoulders. You aren’t acting like yourself. What is it? Please, just tell me!”
“Bree, just leave it alone.”
I heard a plate land in front of me. “I just want you to be able to talk to me. This doesn’t feel like a friendship at all. You are holding something back and I don’t understand why. You don’t think I can handle it?”
There was a long silence. “I’m heading out early today. Your dad said he was only going to be gone a few hours. He should be back soon. If you need something, hit your button and I’ll come running.”
“You’ll come running?” I repeated.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve said that to you several times before. Don’t go getting all sensitive about it now.”
I didn’t even recognize him. He was suddenly a
completely different person and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I heard him walking away from me. “Luke, wait,” I called out, sliding off the stool to go after him. I ran smack into the damn thing the same time I heard the door close.
He was gone. Just like that. He had walked out on me and I was too fucking blind to chase after him without risking serious injury. I reached out, finding the stool and throwing it. I was beyond over the blind thing. Sick to death of being blind.
In that moment, I decided I wanted the surgery. If there was even the slightest chance I could see again, I had to take it. The worse thing that could happen was that I would die. It wasn’t like I would know if I was dead. If I woke up and couldn’t see, so be it. That was my fate. I would demand my father move me into some group home for the blind far away and I would go. I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone ever again.
Chapter Ten
Luke
I FELT LIKE A COMPLETE and total asshole. I had not meant to take my frustration out on Bree yesterday. It wasn’t the hangover. Not entirely the hangover. I was fighting my own demons and she did not deserve to be treated so poorly. I was going to grovel and beg her to forgive my shitty behavior. I wasn’t sure if she had told my father about what happened. If she did, I was probably going to be looking for a job and moving once again.
I was a shining example of a rolling stone. Except I wasn’t necessarily rolling. I was being kicked down the road over and over again. I wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to be around me. I had been short with her yesterday. I hadn’t been a good caregiver and had been an even worse friend. Yesterday was a prime example of why I didn’t want to blur the lines between our professional and personal relationships.
Never would I have treated a regular client like that. Then again, a client never would have pressed me so hard about what was bothering me. That was the problem with mixing business and pleasure. There were no boundaries. We needed boundaries.
I headed over, hoping Paul was already gone for the day. I didn’t want to risk running into him and getting scolded for my shitty behavior. What happened was really between Bree and me. I hoped he would see it like that but then again, Paul was one very protective father.
Walking into the dining room, only to find it empty, I made my way to her bedroom and knocked on the door. “Bree?”
“In here,” she called out.
“I’m coming in,” I said, giving her fair warning.
“I wasn’t sure you would show up today,” she said, when I walked into the room.
She was in front of her window that overlooked the grounds. I wondered if she was making up her own images in her head or if she remembered the view. She had told me her room had been upstairs when she had lived in the house before. Maybe the view was the same.
“I am here and I promise you I’m in a much better mood. I’m really sorry about yesterday.”
She turned to face me. She was beautiful. I knew she was pretty, but sometimes, like in that moment, she was just absolutely stunning. I was lucky to call her my friend. I would be even luckier to call her more than friend. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose that chance.
“It’s fine,” she said, shrugging a shoulder.
Those were two very dangerous words. It was very clear it wasn’t fine. “I was thinking maybe we could go out today.”
“Go out where?” she asked.
“Can I say it’s a surprise?” I teased.
“You can say whatever you want,” she answered.
She was still mad. I understood. I would try and make up for it. “You look like you’re dressed and ready for the day. Should we go?”
“I’m at your mercy,” she replied.
I stepped towards her and reached out for her hand. She yanked it away. “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
“Of course not,” I said. “Can I put my hand on your elbow?”
“Yes.”
I led her out of the house and into my car. I had done a little research and found there was a live concert in one of the nearby parks. I parked the car. The moment I opened the door, I could hear the sounds of a violin in the distance. I smiled as I looked over at Bree. She had her head tilted to the side. “Where are we?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise,” I said, happy to see I had truly surprised her.
I ran around to the passenger side, opening the back door and grabbing the blanket from the back seat before helping her out of the car.
“Are we at the park?” she asked.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve been here before. They do an art show here twice a year.”
“But how did you know we were at that park?” I questioned.
She looked thoughtful. “I guess because of the distance and I recognize the smell of the ocean. Most importantly, there is a bakery nearby. I think they put fans up to blow the smell this way to entice park goers into their business.”
I stopped and sniffed, detecting the faint scent of yeast bread. “I didn’t even notice that until you said it.”
“We used to come here a lot when I was younger. After we played or attended one of the events they hold here, we would go to the bakery and I could pick whatever I wanted.”
She had a pretty smile on her face as she talked about the memory. I wanted to kiss her so bad at that point, but I couldn’t. Strictly business, I reminded myself. No touching the client. “I think I might like a treat.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you would. What is going on here today?”
“There’s a live concert. It’s a local orchestra. A bunch of kids that are trying to raise money to go to some competition.”
She reached her hand out. I happily took her hand in mine, I gave it a gentle squeeze. “I think a concert sounds like the perfect way to spend a morning.”
I walked her to an open area just on the outskirts of the crowd and spread out the blanket. We sat down, just like we did so many times before when we visited the beach. We listened to the music, commenting on how good they were before falling back into a very peaceful, easy quiet. It was moments like these that made me realize just how much I cared for her.
And I didn’t just care for her. I loved her. I wanted to spend all my time with her. I wanted to take care of her and hang out with her. I wanted to talk about a future together. I felt like we were in limbo. We couldn’t talk about our future because I had no fucking clue what that looked like.
When the music stopped, I knew it was time to go. The music had served as a nice distraction but we were alone together once again. While she seemed fine, I could feel her holding back just a little. I suspected it was because of my behavior yesterday. I had hurt her.
“Why don’t we go see what that bakery has to offer?” I suggested.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“Are you kidding me? You’ve got me craving a fresh maple bar or maybe some warm cookies.”
Her pretty smile warmed my heart. “I guess I could go for a donut.”
“Then let’s go. I’m starving. Maybe we should eat lunch before we dive into sweet treats.”
She scoffed. “My dad always told me that when I was an adult, I could eat dessert before dinner, but as long as I was a kid, he dictated what order I ate in. I’m an adult and I want a donut before my lunch.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that logic,” I said with a laugh.
We walked hand in hand again as we strolled through the park and across the street to the row of little shops and eateries. We ordered our choice of donuts before I led her back outside to a small bistro style table in front of the shop.
“This is so good,” she commented.
I took a bite of the maple bar that was fresh and gooey and tasted like heaven. I was nodding my head before I remembered she couldn’t see me. “So good,” I mumbled around a mouthful. “I think I’m going to be on sugar overload after this.”
She giggled, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I never understood why we came to get
a donut after we had played in the park. It would have made more sense to eat then play.”
“I agree. Did you come here with your dad?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. Usually a nanny.”
She was acting normal, but I felt her holding back still. We finished our donuts before walking across the street to a café to grab something a little healthier. She insisted on paying for our lunch. I told myself she needed to feel independent, but it still hurt my pride just a little.
“Bree, about yesterday,” I started, when we got in the car to go back home.
“Luke, it’s fine. We all have bad days. You don’t have to apologize anymore or explain.”
“I feel like I do. For one, it was totally unprofessional of me to show up to work with a hangover. I don’t do that kind of thing.”
“I know. I get it.”
Again, I sensed she was just going through the motions. “I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you.”
“But that’s just it. You are frustrated,” she said. “Is it me?”
“No!” I quickly answered. “It isn’t you at all. It’s just other stuff.”
“Stuff you don’t want to tell me. I get it. I’m not asking you.”
I took a deep breath. Not wanting to burden her with my problems. I wasn’t going to get into the whole mess with my mother. She didn’t need that kind of drama in her life. “It isn’t you, just so you know. It absolutely isn’t you. It’s family stuff. I’m working through it and I promise, I will never treat you like that again.”
She reached over. I took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Deal,” she said with a smile before taking her hand back.
We got back to the house and as part of our usual routine, we went to the solarium. “Do you have someone that comes in to take care of these plants?” I asked, trying to fill the conversational void.
“Yes. I certainly couldn’t do it. I would overwater the plants—assuming I could find them all.”
“You could always put your finger in the soil,” I suggested. “That’s how my mom used to check her plants.”
