Page 74 of Someone to Watch Over Me

“Hi, honey, you’re home.”

“I’m home.” I stash my leftovers in the fridge and hang my coat in the hall closet before going in to check on him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Much better since my gorgeous roommate came home. Did you have a nice time?”

“We always do. Lots of laughs. I’m going to run upstairs and change. Be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

Upstairs, I brush my teeth and hair, remove my makeup and change into comfy pajamas. I debate bra on or off and then decide to go without it. I zip a sweatshirt over my T-shirt. I wish I had something more interesting to put on, but all that stuff is long gone now. Maybe it’s time to go shopping.

Oh wait, you lost your job today, so no shopping for you.

I keep forgetting I got laid off, which is comical. You’d think I was independently wealthy rather than in debt up to my eyeballs. But a funny thing has happened in the nearly three years since Jim died. The debt has become just another thing to be dealt with. It doesn’t define me the way it did initially, and that’s thanks in large part to the change in scenery Tom provided with this new place to live.

Anywhere else would’ve run a credit check, required first, last, damage, all of which would’ve kept me in my parents’ basement indefinitely. Because of the enormous favor Tom did for me, I no longer obsess about the debt the way I once did. That doesn’t mean I’m not still worried about it. I am. Very much so. But it’s not the first and last thing I think about every day anymore, which is a huge relief.

Tomorrow, I’ll get busy looking for a new job. For now, I want to go hang with the man who is slowly but surely changing my life once again.

And I’m letting that happen, eyes wide open to the potential implications. I found the conversation about Hallie’s new friend, Robin, interesting. Hallie is going into that relationship knowing that Robin could die prematurely and doesn’t seem to be backing away. The same might be true for Tom. Then again, he might live another fifty years. And if he does, would I want to spend those years with him?

I think maybe I would. Living with him for the last nine months has given me a perspective I couldn’t have had otherwise. He’s shown me over and over again who he really is, and I believe he’s as genuine as he appears.

Even with a perfectly healthy partner, no one ever knows if they’re going to get one year or fifty. Anything can happen at any time. Life is all about choosing how to spend whatever time you have in a way that makes you happy. Tom makes me happy. The very thought of him has made me happy since I was about fifteen years old. The reality of him has proven to be far more exceptional than even my vivid teenage imagination could’ve hoped for.

I go back downstairs, eager to be with him, to maybe kiss him some more, to see where we might go together.

He’s moved to the sofa and seems to be waiting for me.

I sit next to him and take the hand he offers me. “Missed you while you were out.”

“I missed you, too.”

“How are your friends?”

“They’re good. Fun as always. I found out they have a nickname for you.”

“For me?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

His expression makes me laugh. “I’m not sure if I should. It might inflate your ego.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile slowly unfolds. “Lay it on me.”

“Tom.Terrific.”

“Huh. Well… I suppose that’s better than Tom Terrible.”

That makes me laugh. “As if you could ever be terrible.”

“You know what this means?”

“I’m afraid to ask…”

“You must’ve told your friends some pretty good stuff to earn me that nickname.”

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