Miss February

by Karen Cimms

  So I was patient.

  And according to Diane, pretty fucking stupid.

  “What do you mean, he’s dating someone else?”

  “You know, for a little girl, you have a big mouth,” I pointed out as I wiped down the luncheonette tables after the noon rush. “I don’t think they heard you down at the gas station on the corner. You want to repeat that?”

  “I just don’t understand why.”

  “I told you. Her mother just died.”

  She shook her head. “No, why are you dating a loser who has a girlfriend?”

  I was going to point out that Suzanne wasn’t really his girlfriend, but if he’d never actually broken it off, then she was. Technically.

  “Look. I care about him, and other than this one thing, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No, it isn’t. And that one thing is fucking huge. Don’t you think you deserve someone all to yourself?”

  “I’m not ready to be in a serious relationship.” At least that’s what I’d been trying to convince myself. “I have Izzy to think about. I don’t have time to be worrying about some guy full time.”

  “I’ve known you all your life. Don’t bullshit me.”

  “I’m not. Besides, you said you liked him.”

  “That was before I knew he was a Bluebeard.”

  I shoved a stack of napkins into the metal holder and slammed it shut. “A pirate?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That was Blackbeard. Bluebeard was the one who killed all his wives.”

  “So now he’s a murderer?”

  She pulled me into the booth alongside her.

  “Rain, what are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to work. Other than that, I’m having a little fun, that’s all.”

  Her eyes connected with mine, but it was the frown tugging at the corners of her mouth that told me just how disappointed she was with me. I hated that she felt that way.

  “Is he coming to the wedding?” she asked.

  “Oh, now it’s okay to invite him to your wedding?” I was being bitchy, but I couldn’t help it. I was tired of having to defend myself.

  Diane kept glaring at me, waiting.

  “He’s going to be out of town that weekend.”

  She swirled the straw in her Diet Coke. “Do you believe that?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

  “Did you think maybe he told you that as an excuse not to come, so that no one sees you together and reports back to the girlfriend? Think about it, Rain. When you see him, it’s at your place or at Blondie’s. If he does take you out, it’s to some dark, out of the way place none of his hoity-toity friends would go. I never expected you to turn into someone who would let some guy hide your light under a bushel.”

  Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. I struggled to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come.

  “I’m getting you a date for the wedding.”

  “I already have a date. Wally’s brother. Isn’t Bobby supposed to be my date?”

  I was Diane’s maid of honor, while Bobby was Wally’s best man.

  “He’s your escort, not your date,” she said patiently. “He’s married, remember? Or are you only interested in men who are unavailable?”

  The wedding was less than a week away. Even if I wanted a date, it was too late to find someone at this point. So I lied. “To be honest, I’ll have a better time by myself. I can dance with all the good-looking, unattached men. I can mingle. Actually, I prefer it.”

  Given the sour look on her face—and the fact we’d been friends so long—she didn’t believe me.

  “Are you going to keep seeing Preston?”

  I fixed my face in an evil glare. “Diane.”

  “Rain,” she said, mimicking me.

  I grabbed my rag and climbed out of the booth.

  “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  I didn’t need to be psychic to know she didn’t believe me that time either.

  Chapter Eight

  A week later, I watched as my best friend married the man of her dreams and started her happily ever after. The wedding had been beautiful and the reception first-class all the way. The day was perfect—for them. For me, it was another reminder that I was alone—more or less. Other than the sporadic attention of the lead singer in the band, who was a bigger flirt than I was, I’d spent most of the evening as a wallflower. I danced briefly with Bobby when the wedding party was introduced, but his wife, Janelle, cut in quickly. After dinner I danced with one of Diane’s cousins. George was several inches shorter than me and breathed heavily against my breasts the entire time. As soon as the song ended, I excused myself and made a mad dash for the ladies’ room, where I ran into the bride.

  “How come all of my bridesmaids are wearing the exact same dress, yet you’re the only one showing cleavage?” Diane asked as we stood side by side in front of a row of sinks.

  I looked down at my lavender-swathed breasts and back at my reflection. The girls did look exceptionally perky. “Lucky, I guess.”

  She smirked while I dragged a wet paper towel over my neck and chest.

  “Having fun?” she asked, nodding at my chest. “Other than dancing with Georgie.”

  Grabbing another paper towel, I shivered. “I can still feel his breath on me. And not in a good way.”

  “Aw, Rain. That’s not nice. The poor guy has asthma.”

  I glared at her reflection. “Then why are you laughing?”

  “Because he’s a pain in the ass, and the look on your face out there was priceless.” She gathered her full skirts in her hand and took a step toward the door. “I’ve got to get back out there. Wally’s eyeing the dessert table, and if I’m gone too long, he might start on the wedding cake without me. If my cousin asks again, just call him Georgie Porgie. I guarantee, he’ll leave you alone.”

  “You should have printed that on the invitations to warn all the single ladies. I’m not the only one he’s tried to seduce with his heavy breathing tonight.”

  I heard her laughter even after the door had swung shut. I tossed the paper towel in the trash, then leaned closer to the mirror and scrutinized my forehead. There had to be a big “L” stamped on there somewhere.

  My loser status was confirmed a few minutes later when I stepped out of the restroom, feeling sorry for myself, and walked right smack into a broad chest in a black suit.

  “Whoa!” Two strong hands wrapped around my upper arms to keep me from tipping over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. You okay?”

  I knew it was him before I even looked up. That strange rush of electricity. I brushed the hair off my face and raised my chin. I’d never forget those eyes, but it was the vibration from his hands against my arms that told me I was right.

  I greeted him like we were long lost friends. “Hey, it’s you.”

  He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head. Guess I wasn’t as unforgettable.

  “Have we met?”

  I tilted my head and fluttered my lashes. “Steve, right?” Why I was lying, I had no idea.

  Chuckling, he released me. The loss of his warmth on my bare arms was significant.

  “Sorry, no. I’m Chase.” He held out his hand, so I took it. I was prepared for the vibration this time, which was as sharp and warm—and tingly—as it was that day at the shop. “And you must be . . . a bridesmaid?”

  “Maid of honor actually.”

  “There you are.” I glanced over my shoulder to see a tall, slim brunette heading toward us. “They’re getting reading to cut the cake.”

  Must be the rabbit fiancée. She was speaking to him, but flashing daggers at me.

  I took a step back. “Sorry for running into you like that.” Another step. “Enjoy the cake.” I pushed the bathroom door open with my back, even though I’d just come from there, and then I did something even dumber. I fucking saluted, and then let the room swallow me up. As the door swung closed, Chase looked amused. The rabbit just looked conf
used.

  I stayed in the ladies’ room so long, I missed the cutting of the cake. The band was playing and the lights had been turned down by the time I picked my way to the bar and ordered another vodka martini—I’d lost count as to whether I’d had four or five or maybe even six—and then hung back and watched couples swaying on the dance floor, including Chase and his stunning fiancée.

  Why I was feeling jealous of a woman I’d seen for mere seconds, I hadn’t a clue. Chase could be an abusive jackass for all I knew. Scratch that. I did know. I didn’t understand the vibrations coming off him, but I’d swear on a stack of Bibles that he was a good man.

  Lucky rabbit.

  Yep. Definitely feeling sorry for myself, and alcohol wasn’t helping. When Preston told me he couldn’t make it, I should’ve just asked someone else. It would’ve been better than hovering by the bar, trying to avoid cousin Georgie.

  And to make matters worse, I had no way to get home. My only alternatives were to catch a ride with my mother and her date or go in the limo with Diane and Wally and have them drop me off on the way to their hotel.

  I rubbed my forehead. Maybe the “L” was invisible.

  I was about to order my fifth, sixth, or seventh martini when the bandleader called for all the single women to step out onto the floor for the bouquet toss.

  Oh hell no. I grabbed my evening bag and ducked out. Diane would understand. It was an unwritten rule among besties. Act like a jerk at your BFF’s wedding, and she has to forgive you. At least that’s what I was telling myself, although with Diane, I might have to do some groveling.

  I was almost to the lobby when my bag began to vibrate. I fished out my phone.

  Preston: Trip a bust. Miss you. Wedding over yet?

  I hadn’t seen him in over a week and wasn’t sure how to answer. A smart, sober girl would have told him I couldn’t possibly see him that night, but I was neither smart nor sober. I opted to make him jealous instead.

  Me: Just caught me. Wedding over. Heading 4 drinks with guys in band.

  My phone rang two seconds later.

  “That’s not even funny,” he said when I answered.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “It’s a wedding. Of course I’ve been drinking.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  He must be pretty sure of himself, expecting me to jump because he suddenly wanted to see me. It pissed me off that he was right, and that he knew damn well that in fifteen minutes, I’d be standing in front of the Marriott, holding my shoes and waiting.

  I was also twirling my panties on the end of my finger when he pulled up.

  Suzanne might be winning the battle, but the war wasn’t over—and I was very good in the trenches.

  I woke the next morning with a hangover the size of New Jersey and Preston lying beside me. Since he rarely stayed over, I panicked, as if I were the one hiding something.

  “Preston.” I shook him. “You fell asleep.”

  He made a face. “And I was still asleep too.”

  “It’s morning! Wake up!”

  “Damn it, Rain. I know.”

  “Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” I asked pointedly.

  “I have nowhere else to be but here with you.” He rolled onto his back. When I didn’t respond, he peered at me through one sleepy lid.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s over. I told you it would happen. She finally gave me the boot.”

  Finally. Despite my hangover, I climbed on top of him, grateful that I’d started on the pill, and showed him just how glad I was.

  When the fog cleared a little later, I tried to remember if I’d misheard him. Because if he had been the one trying to break things off, why had Suzanne been the one to end it?

  Chapter Nine

  One of my biggest talents was the ability to smile no matter what was happening in my life, but it had to be clear to anyone who saw me Monday at the luncheonette that my smile was bigger and brighter than usual.

  “What’s going on with you?” my mother asked. “I haven’t seen you this happy since . . . I can’t remember. Maybe not since before . . .” Her eyes clouded over. She was thinking of my father.

  “I’m happy.” I hugged her, and she squeezed me back.

  “I’m guessing you met someone at the wedding. Was it the lead singer in the band? I saw him eyeing you. What was his name? Ben?”

  I shook my head, grinning. “I didn’t go home with him.”

  She furrowed her brow and tapped on her chin. I could see her mentally ticking off every available man she’d noticed at the wedding.

  Her eyes met mine. “Diane’s cousin?” she asked incredulously.

  “Ew. No.”

  Her face went blank, then fell. “Oh, Rain. Not Preston?”

  My happiness quotient dropped a couple degrees. The problem with treating your mother like a friend, was telling her things you’d later wish you hadn’t. Like Preston’s relationship with Suzanne.

  “Why would you say that? It’s over with him and . . . you know. They broke up. We spent the day together yesterday. I let him meet Izzy, and he took us to Flat Rock. It was wonderful. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t want to see you hurt anymore, and it seems this man has some kind of control over you.” She sighed deeply. “Please be careful.”

  “I’m not playing in traffic, Ma, okay? I know what I’m doing. I love him. He loves me. I don’t see the problem.”

  “You’re not playing in traffic. You’re letting someone play with your heart. I think that might be worse.”

  I dumped ten pounds of potatoes into a large stock pot filled with water and hoisted it onto the stove. “Whatever.”

  I was determined to remain happy, and if it meant avoiding her negativity the rest of the day, then so be it. I kept busy in the kitchen while she worked the front.

  When we closed at two, I raced to the drugstore to pick up a few things for Preston so he could stay over on nights Izzy was at my mother’s. I got him a toothbrush, and after sniffing several men’s deodorants, I picked one that reminded me of him. It wasn’t what he usually wore—his probably came from a fancy department store—but it was close enough. I bought a razor and shaving cream, shampoo, and a few other things he might need. It set me back forty bucks, but hopefully I’d make it back in tips, especially since the payment for Izzy’s preschool was due soon. I rushed home and straightened up the apartment, then picked Izzy up, gave her dinner, and took her to my mother’s.

  I hadn’t heard from Preston all day, which wasn’t unusual. Before I left for Blondie’s, I sent him a text.

  Me: See you tonight?

  Blondie’s was busy for a Monday. I checked my phone several times, but there were no messages.

  By closing time, I still hadn’t heard from him. I fired off a text before I pulled out of the lot.

  Me: Everything OK?

  I didn’t hear from him overnight. When I got to work at six, I made Izzy’s breakfast and gave her some crayons and paper to entertain herself until the bus came.

  The next few hours were hectic, and I was able to keep my mind occupied slicing lunch meat, making soup, and smiling only when I absolutely had to.

  Around ten, as I prepared for the lunch rush, a huge bouquet of red roses was delivered for me. I wanted to squeal, but instead, I snuck up to my apartment, where I set the vase in the center of my small kitchen table, and tore open the card.

  There were only two words: I’m sorry.

  He hadn’t even signed his name. Just the letter P. It wasn’t even written in his handwriting.

  I dropped into a chair and stared at the card in my hands until the words became blurry. An invisible string wove its way around my spine, wrapping itself tightly around my guts and through my chest, while I tried to convince myself I was overreacting.

  It could have simply meant that he was sorry he hadn’t calle
d me yesterday. Or that he’d been really busy. But it didn’t. I knew one thing with absolute certainty: he’d gone back to Suzanne.

  I pushed myself away from the table and made it to the kitchen sink in time to lose what little I’d put in my stomach. I wiped my face and rested my head against the cool Formica countertop.

  My life was a freaking roller coaster ride. Some days I just wanted to let go and fly off into space, away from all the heartbreak and disappointment; maybe find some peace and comfort with the man who’d loved me first and best—my dad.

  I took a few deep breaths of what air remained in the room. I rinsed out my mouth and smoothed my apron. I wanted to call Diane, but she was on her honeymoon. She would have reamed me out at first, but afterward, she’d have hugged me and cried with me. It had only been two days, but I missed her.

  When I heard someone coming up the back steps, I wiped my eyes, dropped the card into the trash under the sink, and opened the door.

  “Are you all right?” my mother asked. “What’s wrong?”

  I forced a smile. “Nothing. Preston sent me flowers. Isn’t that sweet? I didn’t want anything to happen to them, so I brought them up here. Let’s go. I have lunch meat to cut yet, and if I don’t get to it soon, we’re going to get slammed.”

  She wasn’t buying it. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I think I’m coming down with something. When we’re done with lunch, if you don’t mind, I may lie down for a while.”

  “Go lie down now. If you’re getting sick, you shouldn’t be around food anyway. I’ll pick up Izzy after school and keep her until later if you want.”

  She knew I wasn’t sick. I nodded.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I closed the door and waited until her footsteps faded before I slid to the floor and buried my face in my hands.