by Kristen Lamb
“It’s about us.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. After all this, after me admitting aloud I had feelings for him, he was going to take it back. Tell me he’d made a mistake. Some distant part of me realized I’d begun to shake in that vibrating way of small terrified mice. “Us?”
He massaged the space of skin between his eyes as if pushing back a horrible pain. “I wanted to apologize.”
“For?”
“I’m aware I came on too strong and probably scared the hell out of you with the whole love thing...” He stopped there, leaving the sentence hanging, compounded by a pressure that had come on so quickly it gave me the bends.
I hated pauses. In the quiet, guys always changed their minds, and this was the part where I’d get friend-zoned for sure. He tugged at his ear and puffed out a heavy breath. “Just, I had my reasons for telling you. I’ve had people who I had feelings for, and I didn’t say what I felt…in time.”
“All right. What do you feel now?” The question only cinched the corset tighter, my bruised heart begging for relief.
Cocking his head, he brushed a strand of hair away from my face which was clammy with panic. “I feel you’ll say that we have nothing in common. No common ground to start from.”
My synapses snapped and crackled, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Was he breaking up with me or blowing me off, and why was I going to Galveston if…?
He shrugged awkwardly, two spots of color high on his cheeks then continued, “And I thought, ‘What about Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’”
Realization slammed into me. The pop of recognition. Relief flooded through me so fast, it was like I’d mainlined it.
I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, “It is the one thing we’ve got.”
“One more thing.” He raised a hand as if calming a skittish horse he worried might rear and trample him to death. “Don’t freak out.”
“Are you trying to give me cardiac arrest?” My voice squeaked. “First we need to ‘settle’ something then you want to ‘talk about us.’ Why not just finish me off with ‘I need space,’ which of course the other half of that phrase being the ‘without you in it.’ Guys always leave that part out—”
He pressed his finger over my lips to silence my babbling and smiled. “Calm down.”
“I am totally calm,” I grumbled, my words muffled.
“Good.” He chuckled as he fished the signature blue-green Tiffany’s box with a white bow from the armrest compartment and set it on my lap.
Hands shaking, I untied the ribbon and opened the box. A set of small diamond earrings winked back at me in the afternoon glow.
“After all this? You deserved something pretty,” he said, the flush now fully blooming across his cheeks, making him seem boyish.
Tears filled my eyes, infinitely multiplying the rainbows the diamonds sparked in the sun.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.
I nodded, rendered speechless for probably the first time in my life.
“Do you like them?”
My grin was so large my face ached, but I didn’t care. “You can always tell what kind of a person a man thinks you are by the earrings he gives you. I must say, the mind reels,” I said, in my most glamorous Holly Golightly impersonation. Sadly, my damaged vocal chords wrecked my attempt at sounding smoky and whimsical, and instead, my words spilled out like truck stop gravel, all jagged and dusty. He didn’t seem to notice or even care, and was almost holding his breath as I clumsily put on the studs.
“You're not going to look in the mirror?” he asked.
I clasped his hand. “No need to. I already know they’re perfect. I’d kiss you right now but, uh…” I pointed to the neck brace.
“That’s all right. You can make it up to me later,” he said and turned on the music as he steered the Suburban out onto Main.
I recognized the song in only a few bars. To my surprise, Sawyer sang along, serenading me. His voice was actually pretty good. Once on the highway, he turned up the volume for the chorus, and I mouthed along.
“It’s the one thing we’ve got,” I breathed and wound the smooth white Tiffany’s ribbon through my fingers as if it might tether me to this perfect moment. The re-born town retreated into the desert scrub until, at last, it vanished below the horizon.
I was uncertain of my future, but at peace with my past. My family was safe, my mother returned, and my sister avenged. The bad memories faded the farther we drove, and I let go of the lost loves to make room for the new. I was free of my cage. I’d finally left Bisby, and for the first time, I didn’t pack it along with me.
All I could think was how divinely and utterly happy I was.
About the Author
Kristen Lamb is the author of the top resource for author branding in the digital age, "Rise of the Machines—Human Authors in a Digital World." She's also the author of the #1 best-selling books "We Are Not Alone--The Writer's Guide to Social Media" and "Are You There, Blog? It's Me, Writer." She's an award-winning blogger and was ranked as Writers Digest Magazine's Top 101 websites for writers. Kristen has now returned to her first love, fiction and her debut mystery thriller, "The Devil's Dance" is positive proof she watches way more Discovery ID than is probably healthy.
More ways to connect with Kristen:
Blog/Website: http://authorkristenlamb.com/
Twitter: @KristenLambTX
Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/KristenLambTX/
Instagram: kristenlambtx
