Page 34 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
But she also couldn’t deny that, in the little amount of time they had known each other, Cayden had broken through some of her glass comfort zone. And nothing scared her more than that.
Chapter 7
It would be funner if you were going to be here later.
She wanted to respond to Cayden’s message and be half funny, half snarky, letting him know that “funner” wasn’t technically a word, but decided against it. Earlier she’d told him that she had work to do, and although a lot of her actual work involved her phone, she tried not to touch it while double-checking her schedule for tomorrow and next week.
For some reason, all the dates and times began to get muddled in her head. Groaning, she leaned back and rubbed her temples. I need to save my brainpower for tomorrow with Claire. No, not even brainpower. More like patience. All her clients were great. They had their quirks and strong preferences, as was to be expected since they were all more high-profile people in one industry or another. But, for the most part, they were pleasant to be around.
Claire, however, was a different story. She wasn’t unpleasant company; she was kind and always had snacks and drinks ready when Lillian arrived. But her energy was so draining, Lillian had a hard time at longer appointments with her. Claire was best in small doses, and tomorrow’s appointment was a longer one.
Do some deep-breathing exercises. Meditation. Something to wind down and have an early night. She sent a prayer up to whoever would listen that Cayden would remember to keep his music down. Certainly he would since he had gotten to know her and her schedule.
I mean, I told him bluntly that I have something in the morning and that the client’s exhausting. As clear as she had been, she knew he probably wouldn’t remember those details. Men usually didn’t, she had found. Maybe there was hope, though, since he was the one who suggested keeping his noise level low.
Let’s see what happens. She looked out the window at the trees. The world was turning golden, and a breeze blew across her grass. She liked it to have a little length to it, not completely prim and proper like Cayden’s. Every day was about organization and making things symmetrical and clean and pretty, so the uneven grass and flowers sporadically popping up were comforting.
The cats were sleeping soundly. She looked at their sides moving in and out and the occasional twitch of their paws. Gray Cat was drooling; she had a bad habit of doing that. Lillian pulled a tissue from its box and walked over, gently stroking the cat’s back.
“Sorry, kitty,” she whispered like the cat was a baby, and eased the folded tissue under her chin. “That’s better. No more drool stains on my couch.”
Everything was so quiet, and for a moment she felt peace. The thoughts about tomorrow’s appointment with Claire floated out the window as her eyes stuck on the gently swaying treetops. Even in just a couple of minutes the sun had sped down behind the forest, leaving streaks of orange and purple in its wake.
It had been a while since Lillian had stopped to watch the sun’s descent or enjoy the colorful sky. Birds chirped, sounding slightly sleepier than they had that morning, and she heard a frog croak. ‘Bye, winter, she thought. I’m not complaining about all the life that’s happening out there right now.
She looked around for her water glass but didn’t see it in the kitchen or living room. “Where is it?” she murmured, scratching her chin. Figuring it must be in her room, she went to check. Sure enough, it was there on her bedside table.
As she reached for it, a noise outside in the front yard reached her ears. It sounded like a car, and it stopped and turned off nearby. She drank what was left in her glass in one gulp and parted the blinds.
Who’s that? The car, a bright blue sports car, had parked along the curb halfway between her yard and Cayden’s. She had seen it several times before; before she knew him, she’d never cared to see who the partygoers were. This car definitely stood out from any other ones in the neighborhood, so she knew it was the same one.
Cayden must have heard his first guest arrive, too, because she heard his front door open and his heavy footsteps walking down the steps to the sidewalk. The car door opened, and a tall, slender brunette emerged, dressed to the nines. She clutched her phone in her hand, and her lips widened into a grin when she saw Cayden walking in her direction.
I wonder what she does for a living, Lillian thought smugly.
“Cayden!” The girl hopped toward him in her stilettos. “Hey, babe!”
Lillian’s eyes bugged out. Babe?
“Hey, good lookin’!” Cayden spread his arms and folded them around her in a hug.
The girl leaned back and kissed both his cheeks daintily. She looked like something out of a fashion magazine. Bewildered, Lillian’s mouth hung open as she watched them walk inside the house.
When they were gone and the outside was quiet again, she found herself cold. “What the hell?” she yelled out loud. “What was that?” Running into the other room she glared at the cats, who were just as confused by her sudden loud noise as she was about Cayden’s interaction with that girl. “What the hell did I just see?” she shouted again, madly looking in all directions like the answer would be written on the wall.
Calm down. She tried to rationalize with herself, but it didn’t work for a few minutes. She refilled her water glass, stalked around the house, and folded laundry to distract herself and expend some of the adrenaline coursing through her. Finally, she was able to get a hold of her thoughts enough to sit down and think of logical reasons for what happened.
“Let’s analyze this for a second.” She folded her hands across her stomach as she lay on the sofa, like it was a therapist’s couch. “He’s a personal trainer. He probably has female clients. In fact, women would probably choose him to be their trainers.”
That sounds good. Keep going.
She took a breath. “That explains why he called her ‘good lookin’.”
Yep. Because she looks better than she did when he first started with her. Maybe she was really unhealthy before and had miraculous motivation to improve her physical health. Look at her now. And that’s why she’s wearing stilettos and a short skirt.
Lillian nodded. “Could be. Maybe she’s a famous business tycoon, which explains the fancy car. I probably just don’t know of her. Or maybe she’s foreign. Foreign people tend to kiss on both cheeks when they’re greeting someone.”
But it didn’t sound like she had an accent.
