Tales of a Sibby Slicker (The Sibby Chronicles Book 2)

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Tales of a Sibby Slicker (The Sibby Chronicles Book 2) Page 15

by Samantha Garman


  “Great.”

  “And I won’t come back for at least twenty minutes.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” he muttered.

  I went to the front door and called Jasper. He came flying at me. I threw on my Uggs and a coat. Grabbing my keys and phone in one hand and the leash with the other, I wondered if I’d be okay without a hat. The weather had finally started to turn.

  Jasper dragged me to a nearly bare tree. We walked around the neighborhood, Jasper sniffing everything and trying to greet everyone. He was a friendly, sweet dog, and we’d really lucked out, and now that the peeing was under control, things were settling down into a routine.

  “Sibby?”

  I looked up from watching Jasper paw at a shriveled leaf. “Stacy,” I greeted in surprise. “Hey.”

  The girl that had announced my pregnancy to the world stood in front of me, clutching a to-go cup of coffee. She was completely put together, wearing trendy skinny jeans and flowing gray cape. The pink tips of her hair were bright as if newly dyed.

  I was wearing Bullwinkle pajamas, and I had no idea the state of my face. I was actually afraid to look in a mirror.

  “How are you?” she asked. “I mean, how are you feeling?” Her gaze darted to Jasper who looked up at her and wagged his tail. He wandered over to her and brushed his nose against her jeans.

  Traitor.

  “I’m feeling pretty good,” I said. “So, do you live in the neighborhood?” What were the chances that I’d run into her in Manhattan and now Greenpoint?

  “I live in Bushwick.” Stacy reached down to pet Jasper whom I swore moaned in delight. “My boyfriend lives in Greenpoint, so I’m here a lot.”

  “Ah,” I said, not really sure what to say or how to extract myself from the conversation.

  “Listen.” She shuffled from one foot to the other. “I think I owe you an apology. That picture I posted of us… I didn’t think. I just posted and didn’t realize that maybe, you hadn’t told people yet? I was just so excited to meet you, ya know? I kind of forgot you were a real person when I fangirled all over you. I thought about sending you a message, but I just didn’t have the nerve. Anyway. I’m really sorry.”

  Stacy’s attention was diverted to Jasper who was slutting it up and getting all the love.

  An idea popped into my head, and I rolled with it. “Stacy, are you free tomorrow?”

  I was halfway through my chai latte when Stacy blew into the back. “Ugh! Sorry I’m late,” she said, dropping her huge, black bag into the chair across from me. “My model for the makeup tutorial was twenty minutes late, so that threw everything out of whack from the start. And then I walked by the place twice because I wasn’t sure I was in the right spot—who knew the coffee shop was fronted by a junk store.”

  I grinned. “It’s a cool spot, right? And it’s okay.” I closed the illustrated children’s book I was perusing. “I haven’t been here long.”

  She peered into my mug. “You’re halfway done with your chai latte.”

  “It’s all good. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re so nice,” she gushed. “Okay, I’m gonna go get a coffee. Do you need anything?”

  I shook my head. She reached into her purse and grabbed her wallet. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything.”

  She grinned. “Perfect. Be back in a jiff.”

  Be back in a jiff? Who talks like that, I wondered in amusement. I watched Stacy interact with the barista behind the counter. Scattered. That’s the word I would use to describe her. And yet, she was a twenty-five-year-old Instagram and YouTube sensation. She was running a successful business, and it blew me away.

  Stacy came back, carrying a mug topped off with a mountain of whipped cream and a plate loaded with pastries. “Ah, you got my favorite. The pain au chocolate is the best.”

  She grinned. “Dig in.”

  “Thanks,” I said, reaching for the flaky pastry filled with chocolate. “I feel like I’m eating all the time. Like I’ll finish breakfast and already be thinking about lunch. I’ve gained nearly seven pounds.”

  “Seven? Where are you carrying it? Because when my sister had a baby and gained weight, you could tell. Like all ass and face. You don’t even look like you’ve gained any weight at all.”

  “You’re just saying that.” I snorted. “I haven’t been able to get into any of my pants. And this is just the beginning. I think I need to go buy some jeans with the elasto-waist. And I’m so not ready to do that. It’s why I’ve been living in yoga pants.”

  Truth be told, those were getting a little tight too. If I didn’t buy some new pants, I’d be forced to wear Aidan’s sweats.

  “Well, I couldn’t tell and I’m not lying,” Stacy said with a grin. “Swear.”

  “My thighs touch,” I muttered.

  “All women’s thighs touch. Unless you’re a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, and you’re paid not to have your thighs touch.”

  “You’re really awesome at this women empowerment thing.”

  She grinned. “You should watch my YouTube channel. I rant a lot.”

  “I have watched your YouTube channel. Well, I’ve caught a few videos, anyway. I really like your style and delivery.”

  “Thanks, Sibby.” She beamed. “I’m trying, you know? I never expected to have all this blow up in a big way. I grew up in a very conservative house. Wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or dress how I wanted—like I wasn’t allowed to express myself through my clothes.”

  “So New York is your dream place.”

  “Exactly!” Her eyes brightened. “Anyway, I’m super grateful that people relate to me because now I get to do what I love.”

  “I think that’s really incredible,” I told her. “I had no idea what I wanted when I was twenty-five. I really admire you, Stacy. And I’m not saying that to be condescending.”

  The more I talked to Stacy, the more I realized that she was scattered in a creative way. I knew what that was like, where your mind was constantly going, but your mouth couldn’t keep up with everything, so sometimes it all just came out in a jumble.

  “I checked out your book blog, too,” I told her. “You’ve reviewed a lot of books.”

  She nodded. “I started with the book blog, but I kind of parlayed that into the YouTube thing. I like talking on screen more than I like writing down my thoughts. Does that make sense?”

  “It does.” I bit my lip and pondered how I would approach her, but then I just went for it. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something, but I need your word that this won’t get out.”

  Stacy had raised the cup of coffee to her lips and slowly set it down. Leaning forward, she put her hands in her lap. “You have my word. You can trust me, Sibby.”

  Chapter 22

  #TMI #nojustno

  I was locking up the apartment when Mrs. Nowacki was coming up the stairs. “Hi, Mrs. Nowacki.”

  “Hello, Sibby,” greeted the old Polish woman who lived across the hall from me. She dressed like she still lived in the Old Country in the ’40s. Her rheumy blue eyes swept down my body. “It’s cold out and the sun is setting. You need to put on another layer. Or you need to eat more.”

  Oh, no. I had one mother already, and she had the smothering on lockdown.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Nowacki, but I’m just going a few blocks.”

  “To visit your beautiful mąż at work?” she teased.

  I smiled. “How did you know?”

  She touched my arm with a mittened hand and leaned close. “Lust.” She winked. “You have the love, but also the lust.”

  Just like I didn’t discuss sex with my mother, I would not discuss it with my aging neighbor.

  “I had the lust too,” she said on a sigh.

  “With your husband?” I ventured to ask.

  “No.” She leaned in closer. “With his brother.”

  And uncomfortable.

  “Okay
, good to see you! Byyyyyyyeeeee!” I skittered past her and nearly ran down the stairs, escaping into the cool November air.

  I headed to Veritas to tell Aidan about my morning coffee date with Stacy. The bar had a few people sitting in the comfortable booths in the back, so I had relative privacy when I delivered the news.

  “You did what?” Aidan asked, his mouth agape.

  I winced at his tone as well as the black eye looming back at me. That black eye was all my fault. Was it wrong that I found him really hot with the beard, black eye, and the flannel shirt? Yeah, I was so blaming the pregnancy hormones on that.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding,” he said. “Please tell me you did not just give that girl—the girl who outed your pregnancy on Instagram—your unpublished book to read.”

  “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

  He pointed a finger at me. “That won’t work.”

  “Yes, it will,” I replied cheekily.

  Aidan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?”

  “Because you would’ve said no. I did a lot of thinking about this, and do you know what I realized? If Stacy likes this book—and she’s loved everything I’ve written—then that means I’m not completely insane for thinking I can strike out on my own.”

  “Annie, Zeb, and I have all told you to strike out on your own. Why do you need Stacy to tell you that you can?”

  I held up a finger. “Number one, you, Annie and Zeb are all people who love me and believe in me. That’s all very nice and stuff, but it’s not necessarily practical. Number two, Stacy is one of those people who has social proof.”

  “Oh, my God. I think I finally understand what those pregnancy books mean when they talk about pregnancy brain.”

  It was my turn to glare at him. “When she uses a product on her makeup YouTube Channel, it sells. Companies give her products for free so she can try them out and use them. What happens when she talks about how much she loves a new eyelash curler? People buy it.”

  “I get all that, Sibby. I really do. But don’t you think you’re giving her too much power?”

  “Too much power? Aidan, I’m asking her to read my book. I didn’t tell her why it didn’t sell, I just asked her to read it and give me her honest opinion.”

  “And you trust her to do that?”

  “Yeah, I do.” I nodded. “Do you care that my thighs touch?”

  His face screwed up in confusion. “Uh, what?”

  “My thighs. They touch. When I stand.”

  “I don’t get it. Don’t all people’s thighs touch?”

  I leaned over the bar and plopped a kiss onto his mouth.

  “What was that for?”

  “For being you.”

  He sighed, frustration obviously diffusing. “You can’t do that, you know.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  Caleb walked through the front door of Veritas, carrying a cardboard box. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I briefly thought of darting around him to leave. Aidan’s hand on mine stopped me.

  “Hey,” Aidan called out. “What’s in the box?”

  Caleb set it down on the end of the bar. He looked at me and then back at Aidan. I held my breath.

  “Thanksgiving decorations from the kids at Mt. Sinai,” Caleb answered. “Hi, Sibby.”

  “Hey, Caleb.”

  “Nice black eye you gave your husband there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was an accident.”

  “So she says,” Aidan stated.

  “It was! I was in the middle of my Rocky moment. I didn’t hear you.”

  Caleb shook his head. “You guys are so weird.”

  “My multiple personalities keep Aidan interested. Well, this has been fun. I’m off.”

  “To where?” Aidan asked.

  “Home. Jasper needs a walk. And I’ve gotta do some online shopping.”

  “Baby stuff? I was kind of hoping you were gonna wait—”

  “Pants. I need pants that fit.”

  “You know your conversations have changed so much since you guys met,” Caleb pointed out. “I remember when you guys were talking about whether or not we should do another round of shots, and now you’re talking about babies.”

  I sighed. “I miss drinking.”

  “So do I,” Aidan said. He leaned over the bar to kiss me. “I’ll be home around eight.”

  I gave a salute and then headed outside. It had been a brisk morning, and it had turned into a chilly afternoon. Leggings and yoga pants were not a viable winter warmth option. As I was adjusting the red scarf around my neck, I heard the door of the bar open.

  “Hey, can I talk to you a second?” Caleb asked.

  I turned and shoved my cold fingers into my coat pockets. “Sure.”

  Caleb raked a hand through his light brown hair. “Listen, I’m really sorry about how things went down with us.”

  I let out a breath and nodded. “I’m sorry too. Sometimes I just speak what’s on my mind, and it gets me into trouble.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t apologize for that. I got pissed because you were right, and I didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Friends?” I asked.

  “Of course.” He wrapped me in a hug.

  I silently cursed Annie for throwing away one of the good ones. “Can I just say one more thing, and then I won’t say anything about it again?”

  He stepped back and nodded.

  “You’re gonna find someone who deserves you. She didn’t.”

  Caleb’s mouth flattened. “I just want what you and Aidan have. I thought I had it, ya know?”

  “I know,” I said quietly. I didn’t offer him any platitudes. It would’ve been a grave disservice. Even I knew what Aidan and I had was special and not everyone found it. I wouldn’t be a colossal bitch and lie to Caleb and tell him he’d find it one day. Because what if he didn’t? Most people split up. It was just the truth. Annie’s parents, for instance. They’d been unhappily married for over thirty years, and now they were divorcing.

  “You want to come over for dinner some time this week? You can sniff Jasper’s belly. That’s what I do when I’m feeling down.”

  He smiled. “I heard you do that even when you’re happy.”

  “I do it all the time. It’s a real problem.”

  Caleb laughed and headed back toward the bar. “Dinner would be great.”

  I took my time walking home, thinking about the conversation I’d just had with Caleb. The idea of ever splitting up with Aidan gutted me—and now that Pierogi was on the way, it wasn’t even a place my mind could go.

  Did not compute.

  Aidan and I had such a good time together. We were best friends as well as lovers. He just…got me. In a way no one else did. Aidan had become my family. You didn’t just leave your family; I guess Annie had never felt that way about Caleb. The idea of ever hurting Aidan the way Annie hurt Caleb made my insides cramp.

  Just as I was unlocking the door to the apartment, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I reached for it and saw Stacy’s name flashing across the screen. Frowning, I answered it.

  “Hey,” I said. I set my keys down on the front table and dropped my purse.

  “Oh, my God!” she screamed.

  I held the phone away from my ear. “And I’m deaf. Thanks.”

  “Sorry! I just—Oh, my God, Sibby!”

  “Deep breath, Stacy.”

  “I finished your book!”

  “But I just gave it to you this morning,” I sputtered. I walked into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, not even bothering to kick off my boots.

  “And I devoured it. I turned off the Internet. I turned off my cell. I locked myself in my room and I read. And read.”

  “Wow.”

  “It’s seriously the best thing you’ve ever written.”

  “It is?” I asked in sheer disbelief.

  “Yeah! I mean, don’t get me wrong I love your dirty chef trilogy. But O-M-G. This was someth
ing else. It totally sounded like you, but like, better. No, better isn’t the right word. Hold on it’ll come to me.”

  “So did you…like the heroine?” I pressed.

  “Loved her. She was so relatable.”

  “She wasn’t a bitch?”

  “Oh no, she totally was, but like, you understand why. And then when she grovels to her guy and he puts her out of her misery...” Stacy sighed. “She got her happy ending. She was real, ya know?”

  “She was,” I agreed slowly. Stacy’d had the exact opposite reaction from my agent and the publishers.

  “When’s this book coming out?” she demanded. “I’d love to interview you on my YouTube channel, so you can talk about it.”

  I let out a slight chuckle. “Funny story…”

  Aretha Franklin was belting about respect as I pulled the baked salmon out of the oven. I heard the front door open and close, and then Aidan appeared in the kitchen.

  “What’s all this?” Aidan asked in amusement. Jasper got up from his spot on the kitchen floor to greet Aidan, tail whipping back and forth. Aidan crouched down to get some love from Jasper and after a few moments, stood.

  “We’re celebrating!” I said. After setting the glass dish onto the stove to cool, I threw off the oven mitts and set them aside. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” His grin was wide even as his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are we celebrating?”

  I held up a finger and then went to the counter. “I made us a spritzy mocktail.”

  “What is it?” he asked, taking the glass from my outstretched hand.

  “Pomegranate juice and Pellegrino.”

  “Ohh, getting exotic.”

  “Gotta keep it fresh,” I said, sipping from my glass. “Tomorrow, I might try pineapple and Pellegrino.”

  He leaned over and kissed me. “I love it when you live on the edge. Why are we celebrating?”

  “Let me turn down Aretha.” I pressed the volume button on the Bose speaker and then faced Aidan. “Stacy loved the book.”

  “She finished it already?”

  “Yep. Read it in one sitting. She absolutely loved it. Said it was the best thing I’ve written so far.”

 

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