On Second Thought(113)

“Tell him I miss him.”

“Not gonna,” I called, walking away.

When I got back to the office, it was nearly quitting time. “How’s it going with the new boyfriend?” I asked Rachelle.

She let her head flop back against her chair and sighed.

“That bad?”

“He’s a sex offender.”

“Oh, man! Again?”

“Flashes senior citizens at nursing homes.”

I nodded. “Oh, okay. Yep. My grandmother mentioned him. She said it livened up bingo, for what it’s worth.”

“I’m giving up,” she said. “Want to go get a drink or something?”

I glanced at Jonathan’s office. He was on the phone. “I need to check in with the boss,” I said.

“Poor you.”

“Ah, he’s not that bad.”

She snorted, then grabbed her purse. “See you tomorrow, Ains.”

I scrolled through my emails, waiting until Deshawn had left, too. Jonathan was still on the phone. I needed to talk to him. No matter how grouchy it might make him, he should know that his brother had talked to me. Twice.

And I wanted to kiss him. Office hours were over, baby.

Finally, he hung up, only to have his cell phone ring immediately. I sank back into my seat to wait some more.

Almost everyone I knew seemed to be estranged from someone. Candy no longer spoke to her sister, because Aunt Patty never visited Gram-Gram. Rachelle didn’t speak to her uncle—for good reason, though; he enjoyed walking around family events in his boxer shorts, testicles dangling past the hem. Kate had that bitchy Paige, who’d dumped her.

And here I was, estranged from the Fishers and the man I once loved without question.

Against my better instincts, I went to his blog, which was no longer called The Cancer Chronicles. No. It was now called New Life Horizons, which sounded to me like a cult or a weight-loss center.

There he was, looking bundled up and healthy on a snowfield. No grizzly bear in sight, unfortunately. He looked...good. Happy. Sunglasses against the glare, a few days of downy scruff.

I glanced through the blog. He used the word pure a lot. Pure sky, pure air, pure snow, pure rush. If I still edited his pieces, I’d have fixed that.

Ah. Here was a mention of me. While I know Sunshine has yet to get over me, I can’t help thanking my guardian angel, Nathan, for setting all this in motion.

I almost punched the computer. For the love of God! Yes, by all means, Nathan, well done! I’m sure this was exactly what he intended.

The comments held a surprise—there were only four. The blog had been posted six days ago.

From one of his fraternity mates: Nice pictures, dude!

From his parents (Judy, of course; Aaron wouldn’t know how to comment on a blog): Make sure you’re eating right! You could also call sometime! xox Mom & Dad.

From Anonymous: Cool.

From Jeannie8393: I’ve struggled all my life to lose weight and finally found a supplement that REALLY WORKS!!!

Seemed like Eric’s fifteen minutes of fame had expired.

I clicked off the site and checked the magazine’s Twitter and Facebook pages. Jonathan was still on his cell. He opened his door, glanced at me, did a double take, then went back in, leaving the door open this time.

I could hear him talking now.

“What did Mommy say? Everyone else was invited? Everyone? Ah. Well...sometimes people can be thoughtless. I know she’s your friend, sweetheart. But if she didn’t invite you... No, no, you’re wonderful! It doesn’t make you any less nice. Just her. I know it’s her birthday, but... Oh, Lyddie, don’t cry.”

Ah, shit. That sweet little girl was getting stiffed by a friend.

“It does sound like a fun party. But maybe you and I can do something fun on Saturday, too. We could go horseback riding, maybe. No? Okay, well, we could go to the painting place, how about that? Oh. Okay, something else, then.”

I whipped out my phone and texted Jenny Tate. Any chance you could use another flower girl model? Six years old. A little friend is having a bad day.

She responded right away. Sure thing! Can she come about 10?

Yay for Jenny! I scrawled a note on a piece of paper and ran to Jonathan’s office, where he was still trying to find something to assuage her. “Well, what about a movie? No, you’re right, they’re very loud.”

I held up the paper. Bliss Bridal Shop needs flower girl models for Saturday at 10.

He scowled at me. “No, Lydia, I can’t get you a puppy.”

I shook the paper and pointed to the phone. Realization dawned on my boss’s face.

“Hold on, Lyddie. Do you remember Ainsley? The fairy house lady? She wants to talk to you.”

I grabbed the phone. “Hi, Lydia! How are you, honey?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, her sweet voice so small.

“Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor on Saturday. Do you know what a model is? A lady who puts on fancy clothes and gets her picture taken?”

“Like the ladies on Project Runway?”

I was glad to hear Jonathan’s daughters weren’t being raised only on Dickens. “Exactly. Anyway, there’s a store that needs little girl models, and I thought you would be perfect. You’d have to wear a couple of very fancy dresses and be with a few other girls and look cute and smile.”