by J. H. Croix
“Fine, you?”
“Good, good. I need a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I could use a little help setting up the shelving in my apartment.”
“How about I come over this weekend? I should have time on Saturday morning.”
“That would be awesome. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course, not. I told you to let me know if you needed any help.”
“I know, I know, but…” Her words trailed off, and I could imagine her shrugging.
My little sister was stubborn and outspoken and wildly independent. She hated asking for help as a result.
“You know I hate asking for help,” she added, voicing my train of thought.
“Oh, I know,” I teased.
Jess’s annoyed sigh filtered through the phone line. “Heard from mom or dad recently?”
“Dad called this morning, just a few minutes ago. I thought it was you so I answered without looking. Lesson learned.”
Jess chuckled. “Serves you right. He’s gonna keep badgering you until you tell him to fuck off.”
“Probably. I will when I’m ready. How is it to finally be in your own place for a few weeks now?”
“It’s fucking heaven. While you’ve got dad hounding you about working for him, at least you don’t have mom calling you to make sure you’re okay every other day. I swear to God, she needs to go to therapy. I have been fine for years.”
I grinned. “It probably would help her,” I said dryly.
“Well bro, I gotta go. I’ve got an online meeting for work. Why don’t you text me what time you can come Saturday?”
“You got it.”
“And if it turns out you’re too busy, that’s totally fine,” she added, stubbornly in my opinion.
“I’m not gonna be too busy, Jess. I’ll see you Saturday morning, probably around ten, but I’ll text to confirm.”
After I got off the phone, I finished my coffee and got ready for work. As I drove into town, Belle sashayed into my thoughts. I didn’t know if she’d be working today, but I hoped she would. The mere thought of her sent electricity sizzling in my veins.
College was college, and my focus hadn’t been on romance then. Even so, my encounters with her stood out in stark, vivid recollection. Because they’d been sizzling and unforgettable. Having her spin back into my orbit now only sharpened the outlines of my memories. I didn’t know if pursuing her was smart. It was certainly complicated by us working together and further complicated by her revelations.
9
Belle
“Mom, I’m doing great,” I insisted.
“I know you are,” my mother said. “I don’t mean to mother hen you, but it was nice having you a little closer.”
I was glad we were on the phone and my mother couldn’t see me when I rolled my eyes. “Mom, I’m less than an hour away.”
“I know.” I could practically see the wrinkle between her brows and the polite worry on her face. “So, tell me how it’s going at your new job,” she said brightly.
“It’s going well. I like it. It’s fun to be working in a new restaurant that’s off to a strong start.”
“Do you like your boss? She’s a big deal chef, so I hear.”
“Phoebe’s great. She’s very supportive. She’s really creative as far as the menu and has given me the go-ahead to come up with specials and so on.”
“Are you thinking this is something you want to do long-term? Because, you know your father and I will support whatever you want. If you want to go to culinary school, we’re on board with that.”
I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from replying right away. My parents, bless their hearts, were doing their very best to adjust to some big changes in my life. They were both incredibly smart and academically successful. My mother was on the faculty at Burlington University, and my father was a highly successful environmental lawyer. All my life, all I’d ever wanted to do was follow in their footsteps. I never even questioned it. School had come easily to me, and I’d been an academic star all the way through college and into law school.
Until the pressure and stress and anxiety got too much and the Bipolar Disorder that had been waiting in the wings morphed into a full-blown manic episode. My poor parents didn’t know what to do when I landed in a psych hospital. I went to stay with them after that night.
As accomplished as they were, they had no idea what to do with me in my new situation. Helping their wayward daughter clean up the mess she’d made for herself hadn’t been on their bingo cards. Ever.
My shame about the situation had pushed me into trying to find anyone but my parents’ legal friends to help me. It was such a blessing when May heard what happened and reached out to me. We hadn’t been close then, but we were connected enough that she knew I would need a lawyer and put me in touch with that pro bono program. My parents would’ve gladly paid for some high-end attorney, but that wasn’t what I wanted.
“Mom, I don’t think school is in the cards for me right now,” I said, my voice soft.
My mother was quiet long enough that I knew she was trying to find the right thing to say. “I understand, we only want to support you,” she finally said.
“I know, Mom.” Ugh. My parents loved me, and that was such a gift. Yet, I felt like I’d let them down horribly and kept trying to find my way to the other side of that feeling. “Putting pressure on myself is not a great plan right now. Maybe I’ll get to a place where I might reconsider school, but right now, I like my job. I know I’ve let you down.”
My mother immediately cut in. “Absolutely not! Darling, you haven’t let us down. We just want you to be happy.”
I bit back a sigh. “I’m doing well, Mom. Let’s not worry about planning for something else right now. Okay?”
“I understand. I get ahead of myself, and old habits die hard. We love you exactly the way you are, so please stop saying that you’ve let us down. You absolutely have not.”
“Okay. I love you too, Mom. I need to go in a minute,” I said, even though that wasn’t exactly true.
“All right, then. Is it okay if we come for dinner at the restaurant soon?”
“Of course. Just give me a heads up when you’re coming.”
“I’ll talk to your father and text you. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I tapped to end the call and leaned my head back against the sofa with a sigh. My throat felt tight with emotion and a tear rolled down my cheek. Sometimes, it was hard to love my parents and feel like I’d let them down so spectacularly.
I’d always felt so proud, so ready to follow in their footsteps, one way or another. Instead, I’d fucked up, rather gloriously, or ingloriously. The only saving grace was somehow I’d found another path for myself.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Another thing that sucked about all of this was the very medication that helped me not spin out of control took away that little bit of the magic that gave me a boost and juiced my confidence in times when I doubted myself. Mania could feel amazing except it had a serious downside.
I pressed my palms to my eyes, swiping the tears away before lifting my phone again. I pulled up my therapist’s number and quickly texted her. I hadn’t been able to confirm a time with her yet since I’d last texted. Maybe I wasn’t seeing her every week now, but I knew I needed support when I was feeling shitty.
The year leading up to everything skidding sideways so badly had been crowded with warning signs along the way. It was like driving through a narrow highway in the mountains that had signs about falling rocks. Pressure, juggling too much, and my asshole of an ex-boyfriend had all been falling rocks. Luckily for me, that ex wanted nothing to do with a girl who ended up in the hospital. I had so much shame about him. I wasn’t quite sure how I ended up with him. He’d been another guy I thought was cute. In my bold, slightly manic fashion I’d hit on him one night, and then we had crappy sex.
For some stupid reason, I sta
yed with him for a few months after that, during which he hit me three times. God, just thinking about the fact that I stayed after the first hit still swamped me with another wave of shame.
I took a shaky breath after hitting send on that text and stood from the couch. For some reason, my thoughts immediately went to Ty. When I boldly approached him back in college, at least it hadn’t been bad sex. To the contrary, it had been freaking amazing. I flushed all over just thinking about our kisses the other night.
I couldn’t imagine he’d want more than something casual with me, especially after I blurted out the messy truth to him. I kicked those thoughts to the curb. I did not need to be wanting more with Ty, or anyone.
As I crossed my small living room, my phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced down to see the times my therapist offered up next week. Luckily for me, she was only a half hour away. I pulled up my work schedule and cross-checked first before confirming a time.
I decided some coffee at Busy Bean was in order. I needed something to cheer me up before I went to work.
I took a bite of my scone, savoring the burst of flavor from the currants scattered through it. The texture was absolutely perfect, a little dry, but not too crumbly, buttery goodness with a subtle sweetness laced through it.
Zara was passing by and cast me a quick smile as she gathered up some empty plates and coffee cups from a table nearby. “These are amazing,” I called over.
“Aren’t they though?” she returned. “I have to pace myself working here, or I’ll put on a ton of weight.”
I almost laughed out loud at that. Zara didn’t have any extra weight on her. “I don’t think you need to worry,” I offered.
Just then, a tall man with coppery red hair came striding into the café. He was hard to miss, handsome and obviously built. The man scanned the café quickly, his eyes landing on Zara. He crossed over, stopping beside the table. “Hey, gorgeous.”
Zara’s cheeks went a little pink. “Hey, where are the kids?”
“Dropped them off with your mom. I was going to head over for lunch yoga class and thought I’d see if you wanted to go.”
Zara opened her mouth to reply when Audrey hurried by. “Just go. You need a break.”
The man who I was guessing was Zara’s husband waggled his eyebrows. Zara rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll go.”
Zara glanced to me. “This is Dave, my husband.” She gestured between us. “This is Belle. She’s a new chef at Speakeasy.”
Dave flashed a grin at me. “Nice to meet you.”
I couldn’t say why, but he looked familiar. When I looked a little too curiously, Zara added, “If you’re a hockey fan, you might recognize him. He used to play hockey for the Brooklyn Bruisers.”
“Oh, that’s why you look familiar. I’m not a diehard fan, but I do follow hockey. I am from Vermont, after all,” I offered with a shrug.
Dave nodded. “Vermont’s a hockey kind of state even though they don’t have a pro team here.” Glancing to Zara, he pressed, “You coming with me, or what?”
“Let me finish cleaning up these tables. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”
“I’ll grab a coffee to go,” Dave said.
“Before yoga?” Zara teased.
He grinned. “I need my energy.”
As he crossed over to the counter where the new barista was getting trained by Audrey, Zara picked up my empty scone plate. “Good to see you again.”
“I already figured out the best coffee in town is here.” I drained the last bit of my coffee and stood to leave. When I was passing the counter, Audrey called out, “We have fresh muffins.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn’t resist. “What kind?” I angled to the counter, stopping beside it.
“Do I get one?” Dave prompted as he handed over some money for his coffee to the barista.
Audrey nodded. “If you want to buy one, of course.”
Dave pulled out another bill and handed it over just as Zara rounded to the back of the counter with her tray filled with dishes. She snorted.
After handing Dave a muffin in a small bag, Audrey glanced to me, answering my question, “Pear ginger.”
Who could turn that down? Certainly not me. In another moment, I’d paid and took a bite of the warm muffin.
“Oh my God, those are incredible,” I commented after I finished chewing.
Dave chuckled. “Everything they make here is good.”
Audrey smiled between us. “Thank you.”
At that, I glanced at my watch. “Oh, I need to go. I’ll catch you all later.”
When I was walking out, my eyes landed on a phrase written in chalk on one of the supporting posts. Take a leap of faith, instead of a leap of doubt.
10
Belle
Only a day later, that phrase danced through my thoughts when I arrived at work and promptly discovered how impossible it was to ignore my reaction to Ty when he was at work with me. It seemed like every time I turned around, my eyes landed on him. He was always on the move, busy making drinks at the bar, hurrying through the restaurant to help with one thing or another, and so on. To make matters even more inconvenient for the state of my libido, he kept coming back to collect stock for the bar in the cold storage area right beside the kitchen.
At one point, he stopped beside me where I was prepping a sauce for a special. “What’s that?”
I was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to be flirtatious, but the low rumble of his voice sent a prickle chasing down my spine. When I looked up and my eyes collided with his, my hormones let out a little squeal, so very happy to see him.
I swallowed, willing my pulse to slow down. “Gravy to go with poutine and spicy fries.”
“Looks good.”
“Uh-huh,” I managed. Seriously, this guy robbed me of basic speech sometimes.
I tried to keep my attention on what I was doing, but my eyes had a mind of their own and swung to him again, promptly landing on his lips. At which point, I remembered just how deliciously good they felt on mine and heat suffused me. Then, I reached to lift the pan, my hand landing too far up on the handle and almost burning myself in the process. “Ouch!”
“You okay there, Belle?” Phoebe asked as she dashed across the kitchen.
“Yep,” I called, looking up at Ty again. “Busy here,” I murmured.
His palm brushed lightly on my lower back as he moved away. “That you are. I’ll leave you to it,” he murmured.
Jesus. I shouldn’t have kissed him the other night. Not once, but twice. Ty tempted me to stumble off the path of keeping my life together and not doing anything impulsive. Impulsive was such a temptation for me. With him, tumbling would be nothing more than a hot hookup, and that was everything I didn’t need. Relationships weren’t on this path either. I couldn’t even imagine a relationship. My brief brush with one had been a disaster. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to have a relationship with me, the girl who’d gotten arrested and who’d only gotten out of it because I’d ended up spending a night in the hospital instead of jail.
I was still trying to figure out why Ty even kissed me the other night. Surely, he thought I was a mess.
I could see my therapist giving me the side eye at this train of thought. She knew me well enough that she didn’t hold back. This would be when she reminded me that everyone carried their own challenges, and that we all functioned on a continuum. She also insisted the concept of normal was a social construct and frequently reminded me to stop comparing myself to others. My continuum happened to include being very high functioning, and only stumbling off of that when I landed too far in the pressure zone.
Just thinking about this made me feel almost itchy. I didn’t quite know how to let go of the way I looked at myself. Being super high functioning was what made me feel good about myself. The pressure had been exhausting and the anxiety had pushed me higher and higher into mania.
Trying to learn how to be more relaxed and forgiving of myself wasn’t easy.
I didn’t know how to feel confident without being an academic star. It wasn’t working out so well.
I still had tons of energy, and I truly did love to cook. It gave me something to focus on and, conveniently, restaurants tended to demand a fast pace. No one thought anything of it when I was racing around, and I welcomed the long hours. The blessing was I didn’t get anxious cooking. I was a little anxious about impressing Phoebe because she was kind of a rock star chef, and I wanted to be good enough.
As if she read my mind, she buzzed over, stopping by my shoulder. “Tonight’s special is delicious.”
“It is?”
She cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips slightly. “Yes. Stop worrying so much. You’re doing great.” She hurried off because there wasn’t much time to linger on anything when the restaurant was hopping.
I stayed busy enough for the rest of my shift that I managed not to think too much about Ty. I was leaving later that night and found my feet aiming toward the bench by the river. I told myself it was only because I liked sitting by the river for a few minutes. After the cacophony of the kitchen, listening to the leaves rustle in the trees and the water roll over the rocks was relaxing. All of that was completely true. However, there was a teeny, tiny corner of my mind that wondered if maybe I would see Ty again.
11
Ty
The door to the back of Speakeasy swung shut behind me, and my footsteps crunched on the gravel as I walked into the parking lot. The sounds from the bar and restaurant were muted, and I stopped, leaning my head back to look up at the stars. The night was clear, and the air crisp with a hint of woodsmoke.
I took a deep breath, letting it out as I brought my gaze forward and began walking toward my truck. I had to pass by the narrow path that led to the small bench on the viewing platform by the river. I was trying to be sensible about Belle, but my body wasn’t listening to sensible. My feet went in that direction all on their own.
