Page 22 of The Widower's Girlfriend
Jemma nods but that smile of hers is absent. I really hope she isn’t having second thoughts. I realize making our relationship a public spectacle isn’t normal, but I’m hoping being with me is worth it.
“Okay, have Rachel write something up and I’ll take a look.” I need to end this call and get back to wooing my lady. If I’m not careful there won’t even be a relationship to explain to the public.
“All right, talk soon, and nice to meet you, Jemma.” Ash clicks off.
I reach over and pull Jemma closer. I need to be touching her right now, to know she’s on the same page. “You okay with this plan?”
The hesitation is small, but there in the tiny pause before she answers. “Yes, I think being honest is always a good idea. But what do we do if the public doesn’t react well? What then?”
And that’s the exact question that’s been in the back of my mind since last night. Am I willing to lose my career for Jemma?
14
Jemma
Monday is spent at work, my day filled with my beautiful sick kiddos, worried parents, prickly doctors, and coworkers who are closer friends than the women I spent the weekend with. The time in between patients, or when I’m filling in a chart, my mind is on Walker. He was so sweet to me last night, having spent the day together watching football and sharing all the details about our lives. Then today, he greeted me with a good morning text, bringing a smile to my face the instant I was up.
My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest whenever I think of him, which is often, but I also get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. When we talk about his celebrity status, he seems so different than me, as if we’re talking about a different man, one I don’t know. But then when we just hung out together, he seems perfect for me. A best friend who understands me.
By the time I make it home that night, I’m exhausted. My phone pings with another incoming text from Walker.
Walker: Check your email...Ash sent over the draft statement. Call me when you’ve read it?
Me: Will do. Off to soak in the bath.
Walker: Need me to wash your back?
Me: Nice try...
I shake my head with a giggle. It’s a nice feeling to be wanted by a handsome man. I run some hot water in my tiny tub, my toes curling in anticipation of the heat working out the knots in my shoulders and neck while easing the ache in my feet. It wasn’t easy being on your feet for ten hours a day. A lot of women my age were wearing step counters to make sure they kept active. Me? I was looking for ways to be less active.
My phone starts ringing and I immediately think it’s Walker, probably calling to talk his way into coming over tonight. I answer with a smile, which ends in a groan.
“Jemma, is that you? Why did you ignore my texts?” my mother’s voice blares across the phone.
“Hi, Mother. I just got home from work. You know I can’t text you when I’m working.”
“Yes, I know, but don’t they give you a lunch break or something? I want to know if Justine was going to invite me to her wedding. Did you ask her?”
I roll my eyes so hard I give myself a headache. “No, Mother, I didn’t ask Justine because even I’m not going to her wedding.”
My mother gasps, like this is the worst news in the world. I’ve told her repeatedly about my issues with the girls and how badly they treat me. Some moms would encourage their daughters to seek out better quality friendships, but not mine. She thinks I should put up with their crap simply for an invite to their country clubs.
“What did you do?” she screeches.
“I stood up for myself and I appreciate your unwavering support.” My voice comes out hard, which is the only tone my mother listens to.
There’s silence while I slip into my bath, lowering into the hot water with a soft moan. I lean my head back and get to the point so this call can be over with sooner and I can get to my bath in peace. “Besides, that’s old news. I’m dating someone.”
“What??” If I thought she screeched before, this one word takes things to a whole new level of shock.
“Yep, met him over the weekend and we’re officially dating. I wanted to tell you before you heard about it.”
“Wait. Back up. You just met him and you’re already officially dating? That’s not like you. And why would I hear about it? Do I know him?”
I use my toe to shut off the hot water, wondering how quickly I can get my mother off the phone. “Well, he’s a bit of a celebrity in his space. He’s a speaker and author for grieving widows and widowers.”
She starts laughing, the sound growing in volume with each passing second.
