California Girls(59)

She had gotten to bed shortly after midnight. Saturday morning she was up early to double-check her decisions and try to be awake enough to be both perky and collaborative as she finished packing up her bedroom. On a usual day neither feeling was especially hard to muster but for some reason and despite two cups of coffee, Ali couldn’t helping feeling a little...sad.

She supposed the reasons were obvious. She was leaving her apartment after living there for three years. Although moving had always been the plan, it was supposed to be because she was marrying Glen and taking the next step in their relationship. Instead she found herself forced out of her home and into a living situation that was admittedly lovely but not of her choosing. Okay, sure, technically she’d chosen to move in with Daniel, but only because she couldn’t afford a decent place of her own. She accepted the relationship with Glen was over, she just wished there weren’t daily reminders of how sucky things had gotten.

The date of the wedding was rapidly approaching. As she studied the sealed boxes and the stuff yet to be packed, she wondered how she was going to feel on the actual day. Would she be sad, angry, depressed, resolute or some combination of a thousand other emotions she couldn’t predict? And while she was on the subject, what was Glen feeling? Did he miss her at all? Miss them? Did she want him to? She’d been so caught up in logistics that she hadn’t spent a lot of time on her own emotions. Or maybe she’d been hiding from them. Either way at some point she was going to have to deal. Not just with the loss she felt, but also the lack of loss. The truth was she didn’t miss Glen much at all.

She hated admitting that, but what choice did she have? She’d been sad at first and humiliated because hey, who wouldn’t be, but not devastated. She wasn’t crushed or thinking she would never again be happy. What was up with that? She wanted to tell herself she was in shock, but she wasn’t sure she was. And if she wasn’t—if she’d really gotten over him so very easily—what did that say about her, about them? If she hadn’t been in love with him, why on earth had she agreed to marry him?

All difficult questions she didn’t want to think about but until Daniel and his guys showed up, she didn’t have many distractions. She walked through the half packed, half empty apartment, as if she could find the answers somewhere in a closet or drawer. There were pieces of her life with Glen, items from the life they were going to have together, but no real pain, no heartbreak. She’d been so sure he was the one...but he wasn’t.

Before she could go down the path of wondering what she’d done wrong, she heard a knock at her door. She opened it to find Daniel flanked by two massive guys. He was at least six feet so his friends had to be six-five or six-six. They both had shaved heads and lots of tattoos. Ali stared at a beautiful swirling tattoo design and wondered if she should get a tattoo herself. Something to signify her life taking a new direction or...

“Morning,” Daniel said, holding out a take-out coffee. “All ready for us?”

“Not as ready as I wanted to be. There was a crisis at work. But at least I’m sorted.”

Daniel nodded at the guys with him. “Sam and Jerome. They’re helping us today. This is Ali.”

“Ma’am,” they said together.

“We’re happy to help you,” Sam added. “Just show us what you want done.”

She stepped back and led them through her suddenly tiny apartment. She’d packed up her bedroom and living room, but there were still some things in the kitchen cupboards. Jerome went downstairs and got boxes and tape while Sam went to work on the furniture. He pushed her sofa and coffee table to the center of the room.

“I should do something,” she said to Daniel.

“Drink your coffee.”

“I should do something more.”

“They’ve got it handled.”

The two men did. Sam moved to the kitchen. He expertly packed dishes and glasses, using plenty of paper to wrap each breakable item carefully. Boxes were sealed and labeled, then stacked in the living room. At the same time, Jerome wrapped her sofa in plastic wrap. He took apart her coffee table and wrapped it up, as well, then took her lamps apart. By ten o’clock, everything she owned was in neat piles or sealed in boxes. The guys began to move the items out to the truck Daniel had rented.

As the rooms were emptied, she vacuumed the carpet. She’d already cleaned out the refrigerator and freezer, and had tackled the bathroom a few days before. It didn’t take long for them all to be done, then she was standing in what had been her home, wondering when everything had gone wrong.

“Ma’am,” Jerome said from the open front door. “We’re loaded.”

She smiled. “You really can call me Ali.”

“Yes, ma’am. Whenever you’re ready.”

She looked around. “I wasn’t sure if it would be hard to leave or not.”

“Is it hard?”

She drew in a breath. “More sad, I think. Starting over isn’t easy, even when it’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s true, but if you don’t start over, you stay stuck where you are. Sometimes that’s worse.”

She wondered what Jerome was starting over from. Not that she would ask. Repaying his hard work with prying questions seemed rude.

“Thank you for all your help, Jerome.”