Page 164 of Always You

“I want to do it differently this time. You know, not screw up for once?”

“Oh, so the goal is tonotscrew up?” Sarcasm is dripping from his tone. “I wouldn’t know how to do that because if I have to believe Rae Stafford says, I keep, and I quote, ‘screwing shit up without even trying.’”

And just like that, amusement flips from him to me. “PR girl giving you a hard time again?”

“You’d think I’m not even allowed to talk to women if I have to go off of her judgment.”

I cough out a laugh. “You don’t talk, Jensen. You balance on a fine line between talking and verbally cheating.”

“I’m a flirt, what can I say?” he says in a playful tone, when a beep slips in my ear.

“I’m getting another call. Talk later.” Without waiting for his reply, I switch the call, the screen lit up with my accountant’s name.

“Hello.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hansen. I got a call from the credit card company because, apparently, a large transaction was done last night. I want to verify with you this is correct.” I detect a little worry in the old man’s voice, spiking my own.

“What kind of transaction?” I realized last night my credit card was no longer in the pocket of my sweats, but I was too lazy to really search for it, figuring I’d have all day to do so. Now, I’m wondering if I should’ve blocked it right away.

“Fifty thousand dollars to the Braeden Animal Shelter.” My eyes feel like they are about to roll from their sockets as he continues. “I checked the company details, and it’s a non-profit organization in North Carolina.”

At first, I’m shocked, barely registering what he’s saying, but then it clicks.

“What organization was that again?”

“The Braeden Animal Shelter in North Carolina.”

“Fifty thousand dollars?” I blurt. “Jesus. Is there a comment with the transaction?”

“Yes, sir. It says: Hopefully this will make those old dogs feel more comfortable.”

A full laugh rumbles from the base of my chest, relief lifting the heavy feeling I’ve been carrying around since last night.That little brat.

“Fifty thousand dollars to the Braeden Animal Shelter, huh?”

“Yes sir. Is this correct?”

“Yeah, it’s correct.”

“Sir, are you sure I can approve the transaction?” the old man asks, still with a load of reluctance.

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you for calling.” I hang up, contemplating how to react to this act of war from my girl. I want to be angry as fuck for spending fifty grand without telling me, but truth be told, I can’t find an ounce of rage inside of me. If anything, she just gave me the answer that I’ve been looking for while it was me and my insomnia the entire night. She thinks she pissed me off, but all she did was show me that she still cares.

65

Sitting on the swinging bench on the front porch, I stare at the pink peonies placed on the table. With pursed lips and arms crossed in front of my chest, I keep flicking my gaze between the flowers and the eight books neatly tucked into a box with the spines up. They are all wrapped in craft paper, each of them showing a letter in the middle.

I am so sorry, it spells.

I’ve been staring at it for ten minutes, contemplating whether to take the gifts or leave them as they are until I get the chance to shove them back in his face.

Finally, I decide to put the decision off until later and grab my laptop from the other side of the bench, then get up to take a seat on the screened porch out back instead. This way, anyunwantedguests have to ring the doorbell first.

I’m grateful my mother left me taken care of. When she died, I had no clue how I was going to pay for the mortgage with my bartending job, and because I took care of my mother, I didn’t look for a better job after graduation.

But thankfully, her lawyer quickly informed me that she paid off our house when my grandfather died, had health insurance, so her illness didn’t result in any debts, and also had some stocks that she had liquified the last time she got sick, making sure I could grieve and figure out life for the next few years without worrying about money after she died.

I still work at the bar two nights a week to have a reason to leave the house for anything other than groceries, but I spend most of my days reading and writing.

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