Chapter 20

Things were going so well. I almost couldn't believe it. Was he the same man I had been dreading living with? The same one I tossed a beer on in the bar a month and a half ago? I tried not to think about the rocky start to our relationship. Jason turned out to be the perfect roommate. We split up the cooking and the cleaning without anything so anal as a chore chart. He cooked when he felt like cooking, and I cooked when I felt like cooking, and if nobody felt like cooking, we had sandwiches or pizza or went out to the Lucky Lady.

We still had nominally separate rooms. I had all my things in one room with my bed, and he had all his things in another room with his bed. We still spent a lot of nights separately because we were feeling our way into this thing. You can't just jump straight from strangers to bedfellows. We slept together when it was comfortable, when we had worn each other out through lovemaking, and we didn't want to brave the cold dark hallway.

Some days, though, I fell into my own bed without knocking on his door. Some days he was working late, and we didn't talk after dinner. We had made love in both of our beds, in the shower, and on the couch… The list went on.

I stretched in bed, alone, thinking all kinds of good things about Jason. He was dedicated to his job, that was for sure. There had been no movement on the drug dealing and money laundering front. Lena was as short-tempered as ever, but she hadn't chased the customers with scissors since that Wednesday a month ago.

I continued to help her drag bags of cash into the alley anytime Katrina or the assistant manager wasn't available, which was often. Every time I did it, I was aware that Jason or Ryan or some other police officer was watching. The sketchy driver started to know me by sight and even smiled at me once. I did not smile back.

Ava kept talking about Ryan, even though he wouldn't give her the time of day. Jason had explained what Ryan told him, swearing me to secrecy. I had developed a picture of Ryan in my head as the low-down, two-timing bastard. Finding out that Ava had made mistakes too was a shock. I guess there were always two sides to every argument. It was obvious to everyone, including me, that their relationship was over, but Ava hung on. She saw him in the grocery store and was pretty sure he was checking her out. She drove by his home and didn't see his car—did that mean he was out with another woman?

"That's borderline stalking," Jason told me one night over dinner.

"She doesn't mean anything by it," I said.

"Hmm." He touched my nose, wiping sauce from the tip. "I'm obligated to tell Ryan."

"Please don't," I begged. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. She didn't stop or go inside or talk to anyone. She just drove by the house."

"I won't tell Ryan if you make sure she doesn't do it again."

I nodded. I would have to find a way to bring that up with my best friend. Ryan was a police officer, and their tryst was over. Ava needed to move on, and as her friend who wants to see her happy more than anyone, it was my job to help her do it.

There was something more important going on that morning, though. I was considering my own relationship. Jason and I were more than roommates, more than friends. We had the work thing going on, where we spent hours talking about the hair salon and everyone that came and went every day. We had date nights where we got dressed up and drove out of town to eat, drink, or dance. Jason was a passable dancer. Not brilliant, but I gave him points for trying.

We had long, loving nights wrapped up in each other's arms and breakfast together on our days off. The whole thing was moving so quickly, I felt like I wanted to get a handle on it before it sped away. We could very easily fall into a routine, each one assuming we were on the same page. I was falling for him, hard. But was he feeling the same way? Was this relationship leading toward something else, something bigger and better? Or was it just a comfortable living arrangement that he could walk away from easily? I had to know.

Talking about my feelings hadn't been my strong suit. After my dad died, my mom dried up. She wouldn't talk to me very much, just going through the motions, putting dinner on the table and driving me to school. I knew she was hurting, but every time I tried to bring up the subject, she pushed it away. I guess I learned that talking about feelings was more painful than having them, and it was a difficult lesson to unlearn.

There had to be some way I could ease into the conversation, maybe over drinks or on a long walk in the forest. I climbed out of bed and poured myself a cup of coffee, sitting on the porch to drink. I curled up in my favorite rocking chair, toes peeking out from my comfy pajama bottoms. The coffee was warm and sweet and got me thinking. What if I baked him a cake? Cooking for each other was kind of our thing, and everybody loved cake.

I made my decision, finished my coffee, and changed into jeans and a sweater. I drove to the grocery store as soon as it opened and climbed out into the parking lot. The first time I had ever seen Jason was in this very grocery store. This time I would stay away from the produce aisle and any stray men I might find.

I didn't want anything as cheap as a box cake. No, for this occasion, I wanted a from scratch, made-with-love confection. I brought one of my mother's recipe cards and went through the store collecting what I needed. Flour, check. Eggs, check. Milk, check. Vegetable oil I already had at home. I was in the baking department, looking for baking powder, when a strange woman approached me.

She was thin and blonde, wearing a power suit that was out of place in our small town. I had never seen her before, which automatically meant she wasn't local. Her voice was definitely Southern when she spoke, but there was something "off" about her energy. She kept looking around, as if she expected someone to jump out of the shadows.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

I blinked. "Oh, I'm just looking for ingredients to bake a cake," I said, all Southern charm, even though her question was intrusive.

"For who?" she persisted.

"For a friend…" I reached around her and grabbed the tin of baking powder, slipping it into my basket. I attempted to turn, but she moved with me.

"A man?" she snapped.

"Yes." I stepped back into the shelves.

"Don't bake a cake for a man—they never appreciate that shit," the woman said.

I couldn't stop staring. She was so weird, her eyes intense and boring into me, her massive purse swinging menacingly on one arm. I didn't know what to say. I was saved by Bella, one of my customers, who turned down the aisle at that exact moment.

"Bella!" I said eagerly, reaching out for the other woman.

"Hi, Lindsey," Bella sang.

I extracted myself from the shelf, edging away from the crazy lady. "How are the cookies coming?" I made small talk as I followed Bella to the cash register.

As soon as I had paid for my purchases, I looked back to see how best to avoid her, but she was gone. Shaking my head, I got back in the car and drove home. I got to work baking the cake, thrilled when it came out light and fluffy. I used a tub of chocolate icing to decorate it and set it prominently on the counter. I figured I'd better make something more substantial to go with it, so I cooked up a quick omelet.

When Jason came home a few minutes later, I was sitting on the couch, as if I had been there all day. I got up to greet him, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Is that all?" he joked, sliding an arm around my waist and pulling me in for a deeper kiss.

"I made you a cake," I said shyly.

His face brightened. "Thank you."

I took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen island. "There's an omelet if you'd rather have dinner first," I said.

"No, I'll dig right in," he said with a smile, grabbing two plates from the cabinet. "You're joining me, right?"

"Of course."

He cut two slices and laid them out on plates. I picked up mine and licked icing off the fork. Now was my chance to tell him how I was feeling. Now was when I should lay all my cards on the table, open myself up, and be vulnerable. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I was in love with him, that I wanted a future with him, but what if he didn't feel the same way? Suddenly, my heart was in knots. The cake tasted wonderful, but the anxiety didn't sit well. I couldn't bring myself to speak, so we just ate in silence.

He leaned across the island and kissed me, his tongue heavy with chocolate icing. I laughed. Why did talking have to be so hard?

"I have work to do if you'll excuse me," he said, grabbing a spatula and sliding half of the omelet onto his plate. He disappeared into the office with the omelet and a beer, and I was left alone with most of my cake, disappointed in myself.

The next day at work, Ava and I were both straightening our areas between clients. I looked around to make sure Lena wasn't there.

"She's in the back," Ava said, untying and retying her apron.

"I think I'm in love with Jason," I blurted out.

Ava's face brightened. "That's wonderful!"

"But I'm scared to tell him."

She softened, leaning against her styling chair. "It can't be that hard."

"What if he doesn't feel the same way?" I asked.

"What if he does?"

"But…" I couldn't think of an appropriate comeback, other than the sheer devastation a rejection would create in my heart. It would be the kind of devastation a girl didn't wake up from. "If he…"

"If nothing," Ava snapped. "But nothing. You have to suck it up and tell him the truth. I've seen you two together. One hundred percent he's in love with you too. You're only going to hurt yourself by hiding your feelings. Give him some credit."

I sighed. "You're right. I know."

"You're gonna do it?" She eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes," I agreed, just as the door swung open and Ava's two-o'clock appointment walked in.

I snuck in a smile before turning back to my workstation. I was disinfecting my combs when the door opened and the stranger from the grocery store walked in.

I immediately turned to lock eyes with Ava, but she was bent over her customer, working a knot out gently with a comb. I tried to signal her without looking too obvious but failed. I put on my best customer service smile and greeted the woman at the door.

"Good afternoon. Are you here for a haircut?" I asked.

"Lindsey, right?" the woman said.

"I am." I pointed to my name tag. There was a pause in which I was expecting her to give me her name. Polite conversation dictated that there should be an exchange of personal information, not a one-sided interrogation. But the stranger kept quiet. "How can I help you?"

"I want to go brunette," she said, sitting down in my chair.

I nodded tightly, pulling a clean bib from the wall. I wrapped it around the woman, securing it at the neck. She was watching me in the mirror as I fluffed her hair up around her shoulders, pulling it free from her collar.

"You have beautiful hair," I said.

She didn't respond, her eyes locked on my reflection. Usually, I was pretty chatty with my customers. Most of them had known me my entire life and were like family to me. But I couldn't get this woman out of my chair quick enough. Instead of doing a shampoo, I spritzed her hair with water, emptied an entire bottle of coloring into the strands, and let it sit. I got the feeling she didn't give a damn about her hair; she was just there to study me.

I smiled just enough to be polite, but Ava caught on pretty quickly. I found her sneaking furtive glances at me and my bizarre customer, while she worked on one of our regulars.

"What's going on?" Ava mouthed at me, scissors and comb in hand.

I shook my head. There was no way I was going to be able to communicate anything with little miss don't-bake-a-cake following my every move. I finished up on her with some simple styling and let her examine her own features in the mirror. She nodded politely and gave me a decent tip on top of the cost of the color.

"How long are you in town for?" I asked at the register.

"I don't know," she answered.

I made an attempt at friendly chitchat. "Well, you should check out the Lucky Lady. Best burgers in town."

"I don't eat burgers," she said, and I wasn't sure if she meant she was on a diet or if she was vegan. She pulled the door open and sashayed out, leaving me alone in stunned silence.

Ava came up behind me, startling me with her stage whisper. "Who was that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"I've never seen her before."

"I have," I said. "At the grocery store. She told me guys don't appreciate cake."

I turned around to meet my best friend's eyes. "Weird," Ava said.

I nodded in agreement.