Page 11 of Make Her Mine

The beep of a car horn startled Esme out of her fog, and she glanced towards the park entrance to see Cam parking her car and Sasha rolling up on her mountain bike. Esme panicked, certain she was blushing like a fire engine, and that wouldn’t do at all. If she couldn’t explain this thing with Nora to herself, she certainly wouldn’t be able to explain it to her friends! Esme grabbed one of her water bottles out of a pocket on the side of her backpack and began to chug it in an effort to cool down.

After half the bottle was gone, Esme felt reasonably calm and able to make eye contact with her friends as they arrived. She even managed to wave. Cam was grinning as she got out of her tiny little Hyundai, unfolding her lanky limbs one by one. She pulled her ancient blue Jansport backpack out and slammed the door behind her. When she spotted Esme, she waved back and called out, “So, we all survived.”

“Well, we’re all the ones who didn’t drink because we were working, so, yeah.” Sasha finished locking her bicycle up and adjusted the straps on her own backpack. “Ruby texted me before she got on the plane. I think she has some regrets.”

Esme stood up and slung her backpack on, fiddling with the straps to disguise her returning blush at the thought of regrets. Did she regret last night? What did it mean that she couldn’t definitively answer that? She knelt to check the laces of her trail runners.

Sasha nudged at her with her knee. “You okay there, E? I know it was a late night, but you’re the morning person of us all, and it’s after three.”

“I’m fine! Fine, fine.” Was her voice squeaking? Esme shot to her feet and put on her best smile. “What have we all got today? I stopped at Whole Foods and got those marinated mushrooms and the Brie we all loved last time.”

“I’ve got a few of those great mini-baguettes from that bakery by my place, they’re all fresh and crusty. We can make sandwiches out of your stuff, E.” Cam shook her shaggy bangs—her short hair was blue this month—back away from her face. She didn’t seem to think anything was odd with Esme at all, which was nice.

But when Esme turned to look at Sasha, there was still a furrow of worry between the chef’s eyebrows as she met Esme’s gaze while tightening her red bandana around her head. “I made a vegan garlic aioli,” Sasha said slowly, lowering her hands. “And I brought some caramelized onion and fig tarts with goat cheese.”

Cam and Esme gawked at her. “When did you have the time and energy to make those?” Cam demanded, throwing her hands in the air. “Did you sleep?”

“Sure. They didn’t take long to make. I used puff pastry. I just thought we deserved a nice snack after all the work we put in this week.” Sasha tilted her head. “I even saw E going back to her office in the middle of the party. I know you work harder than any of us, but was something really that important?”

Esme tilted her chin up and kept her gaze steady. “I just needed a breather. I’m not like you kids; I can’t go all night long the way you can.”

Cam scoffed. “Please, E. You’ll outlive us all. I know for a fact you’re going to outpace us on this hike today—just like you always do.”

“Fitness and social batteries are different,” Esme said primly, heading off towards the trailhead and beckoning them after her. “Let’s pick a trail and get moving.”

But as she walked off, she felt Sasha’s eyes on her back, still curious, still unsatisfied with her answers. What could she do about it, though? Esme still had a million unanswerable questions for her own self.

The overstimulating gym visit, the vigorous beach jog, a subsequent very long bike ride through Pacific Palisades and along the Marvin Braude trail… they’d done nothing to help Nora’s libido. But they had kept her out of the house, and she was now exhausted and hungry.

She was also sweaty and felt fairly gross, but she didn’t dare go back to her house yet. Even getting into her luxurious, custom-built shower wasn’t safe. It was fitted with a deep bench seat and a powerful detachable shower head. If Nora got in there right now, she was never getting out again.

So she’d called her driver and had him drop her off near the Fairchild Building. The Indigo Lounge was closed on Sundays, but there was a huge open market hall nearby with plenty of food vendors. Nora could get a late lunch and eat at one of the outdoor tables that faced the Lounge. Maybe Esme would stop by the place for some reason. She didn’t need to talk to her, but she did want to just maybe see her for a moment.

Why, exactly, she wanted that, Nora didn’t know.

Wandering through the stalls, she picked up an array of delicious nibbles, from gourmet sandwiches with a side of fresh vegetables to a green pressed juice and a tray of miniature birthday cake pancakes. She took her bounty of treats to a table that let her see the Indigo Lounge but hopefully wouldn’t let her be noticed by anyone who might let themselves in there. Nora arranged her goodies on the tiny table and began to nibble on a celery stick, her eyes firmly fixed on the Lounge but her thoughts far, far away.

Fifteen years ago, Nora had been a young upstart with a huge corporate real estate firm. She was living in a little studio apartment in Culver City, she bought all her clothing from Nordstrom Rack, and her car was a second or third-hand Volvo that she’d lucked out buying and kept in immaculate condition.

But she had dreams. And she had Leah. Lovely, sweet, bohemian Leah with her sparkling blue eyes and wild brown curls. Leah worked for a non-profit agency that worked to help unhoused women get what they needed in terms of hygiene, grooming, and clothing so they could better their chances of succeeding in job interviews. Nora had met her at Nordstrom Rack one day during a shopping trip. Nora had needed a new pair of black patent pumps. Leah was talking earnestly to the store manager about donating any backstock they had to her agency.

For Nora, it had been love at first sight. She’d never met anyone like Leah, so idealistic and determined. So authentic—there was no pretense with Leah, unlike all of Nora’s colleagues in the firm, unlike anyone she’d grown up with. Leah was direct and efficient, but she had a huge heart and a firm belief that she could help change the world for the better. She was the best person Nora had ever met.

When Nora closed her first big building purchase as the lead of a team, Leah had gotten her a pair of Jimmy Choo heels in celebration. The mesh and leather pumps had been discounted, and Leah had found them through one of her many clothing sources, but they had still cost her a fair amount of money—Leah confessed later that she’d had to eat plain pasta, canned beans, and produce purchased out of the bruised bin for two months to get the shoes. But they were Nora’s first designer shoes, and they’d been a thoughtful, hard-won gift from the best person she knew, and the only person she’d ever fallen in love with.

It was part of what had made it so hard for her to decide to end things with Leah. Every time she wore the shoes and worked late instead of going out with Leah, she’d look at her feet and feel the love and the guilt of it all. Whenever she chose a work function over going home to Leah—and saw the disappointment in Leah’s eyes as she explained her choice—Nora’s heart splintered a little more. She hated to hurt Leah. But she knew deep in her soul that she wanted a hugely successful career. Nora Hartley wanted her name on a building. She wanted to never worry about the money she was spending on shoes and clothing. She wanted a house on the beach.

Nora didn’t know how to balance love and the massive possibilities of her bright future. So she’d picked one, said goodbye to Leah, and wept herself to sleep for exactly one week.

On day seven, she’d looked at her swollen, bloodshot eyes in the mirror and taken a deep breath. “Life is about choices,” she told herself firmly. “You made a choice. That’s all you did. It’s an investment in yourself and your future. You’ve had your crying time, now you get up and you work, and you never get yourself into this position again.”

And she hadn’t. Until now. Nora shook herself back to the present and looked at her lunch, surprised to find that she’d just about demolished it all, and didn’t remember how any of it tasted.

Across the street, there was movement at the door of the Indigo Lounge. Nora leaned forward, eager to see if it was Esme. To her delight, it was.

Dressed in ragged jean shorts, a tank top, and a ratty old LA Dodgers baseball cap with her long curly ponytail sprouting out the back, Esme couldn’t have been further from Nora in her Lululemons and Nike sneakers if she tried. But to Nora, she looked like a heaven-sent second chance at love. Nora had her designer clothing, her house on the beach, and her name on a couple of buildings in LA and San Francisco. At this time in her life, maybe she could think about finally having it all.

Except for the whole killing-Esme’s-dreams thing standing in her way. Nora groaned and slumped back into her seat, watching as Esme let herself into the Lounge and disappeared from sight. Once again, she was faced with making a life-altering choice, reminded that she couldn’t have it both ways. In fifteen years, it seemed that balance still escaped her.

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