Page 13 of Here In Your Arms

“Yeah, well that was before crippling depression kicked in, Mom. Sorry that I’m not enough for you anymore.”

“You should talk to Nathan. You always seemed so happy with him.”

I roll my eyes and leave. There’s no point in continuing the conversation. Sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, I put my hands on the wheel and get sucked into a memory.

My mom laughs, a light giggle that annoys the shit out of me, but I ignore it, focused on the finishing touches of the dessert in front of me. I want this to be good. I did a practice trial last week, and he didn’t think it was very good, so this time I’m making it perfect. Once I put the finishing touches on the decorations, I stand up and look at my cake, pleased with the outcome. I piped rosettes around the top edge, added sprinkles on the top in the middle, and did some delicate piping surrounding the cake.

“Oh E, you finished the cake,” he comments, looking over at me.

“Yeah!” I smile. “I think it looks good.”

“It looks as good as you can get it,” he says.

I feel the swoop of disappointment in my stomach, but leave my smile firmly in place. Of course he’s not pleased. I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe I should look into other desserts.

“She does put a lot of work into her cakes,” my mom says, oblivious to the fact that he doesn’t like it.

When we sit at the table, he loads up my plate with food and sets it in front of me.

“Thanks,” I tell him, feeling special.

“Of course, E.” He smiles back and me and grabs his own plate, then sits down.

“Remind me again why you call her E?” my dad asks.

Dad’s only met him once or twice. He works as a trucker, so he’s gone a lot, driving around the country.

“I shortened it from Eos,” he explains. “Aurora wasn’t special enough to fit her. She needs something otherworldly. Eos fit.”

My mom dotes over how sweet that is, and normally I would think it is too, but I can see the warning for what it is. I’m not special enough or good enough and I need to try harder. My dad just grunts and looks back at his food. I spear a piece of meat with my fork and slice a piece off to eat.

“Careful honey, there’s a lot of food there and you know we’re trying to cut back,” he says, watching me eat.

“Oh, of course, babe. I’ll make sure I keep an eye on it,” I tell him.

“How considerate of you to keep each other accountable!” my mom exclaims. “It’s good that Rory has you.”

I shake my head to get out of it. My mom may have loved him, and I thought I did, but he is a toxin that I’m glad I got rid of.

Chapter 6

Kyle

It’s been a week since I thought I saw Green Eyes at the diner. I was surprised to see her; didn’t realize she frequented the place. My business associate loves their pie, so we met there to go over some documents that needed to be signed. It’s not somewhere I’d pick on my own, but I tried the pie this time and he was right. Maybe I’ll try to go again sometime and see if it was really her.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since Wes came home and said he’s pretty sure he met her. I’m skeptical that it’s the same girl, but he seemed really insistent. Even if he’s right, would she even be a good fit? We know nothing about her other than how gorgeous she is. Not a great foundation for a relationship. My phone chimes while I’m lost in thought, and I see a message from Wes.

Wes: You better not back out on drinks tonight. We’re going to Jerry’s

Me: I promise, I won’t back out. Might be late though.

Wes: I’ll save you a seat. See you soon.

I shake my head and try to focus back on the spreadsheets I was reviewing. We have some off-track projects that are impacting our financials and I need to do some investigating. Giving it another hour, I finally give up, realizing the only thing I’m doing is staring and thinking of her. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know her. I need to stop.

Looking at my clock, I realize it’s 5:30 and I have a thirty-minute drive into town. Deciding not to push my luck with Wes, I power down my computer, gather my stuff, and head out the door. As usual, I’m the last one out of the door. The CEO is insistent on keeping a good home/life balance and usually ensures everyone is out by 5 p.m. I had to compromise with him to let me stay late when he started noticing my habits. If I stay past 6 p.m., he starts taking away pieces of my yearly bonus. It feels fair. One year I actually missed out on almost a grand, so I’ve been diligent since.

When I park near Jerry’s, I take off my suit coat and roll the arms up. Having the sleeves down is so damn stifling when I’m trying to relax. I unbutton my shirt a little too, giving my neck some much-needed air. As I walk in, I’m slammed with noise, but it’s easy to find Wes’ red hair and I beeline straight for him. I take a seat and bump his shoulder with mine.

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