Page 3 of Easy To Lose

“Thanks, Mom, I’ve missed your cooking,” I say as they wave goodbye on their way out. Dad’s trusty Ford pickup backs up, and I laugh as it backfires, scaring the neighbors sitting on their porch across the street. Dad has had that truck since I was a teenager and refuses to get a new one. He says he’ll drive it until something important falls off or it catches on fire. I hope for the former.

I head back inside, shut the door, and for the first time since I moved in, silence surrounds me as I lean my head back against the wood. Who would have thought I would be starting over at twenty-eight, leaving what I thought was my dream job and moving home to partner with my college roommate?

I look around the room and take stock of the space, knowing it’ll take me at least the weekend to unpack all the boxes. I groan at the prospect of organizing all my stuff. I’ve never been a clean person, but I vow right here and now to make an effort…or at least a conscious choice to keep this place looking like an actual adult lives here.

* * *

It’s been hours since my parents left, and it doesn’t even look like I made a dent in the pile of boxes surrounding me. Maybe that’s because with every one I open, I decide to go down the rabbit hole and look at every piece of crap that’s in there. There’s a memory box open on the floor now, pictures scattered everywhere, and a new pile of them in my hand. I don’t know what made me open this or decide to go through the memories that I would rather forget, but here I am.

High school is never a fun time, at least not for anyone but the popular kids, and I can say right now that I was not a popular kid. At that time, I was starting to gain weight, I didn’t know how to do my hair or makeup, and I was so painfully shy that the thought of talking to anyone made me want to hurl.

The picture in my hand makes me smile, though, as I remember the day it was taken. It’s of me and my best friend, Owen, as we went out for Halloween one year. He’s dressed as a dead hockey player, and I’m decked out as a dead hippie. We were probably too old to trick-or-treat but dressing up and walking around with him made the problems in my life seem minuscule. The name-calling, the whispers, and the laughter at my expense all went away when I was with Owen. We were inseparable…until senior year, when everything changed. He changed.

My phone vibrates next to me. I read the name and smile, bringing it to my ear to answer. “Hey, Charly,” I say, putting all the pictures back inside the box and hoping the weighted memories of my past start to fade.

“I hope you’re ready for tomorrow!” she yells as I get up off the floor and make my way into the kitchen. I roll my eyes as she continues. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, woman! I know you just got there and are probably tired, but come on! New store! New beginning!” Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. Tomorrow we start construction, something that both excites and terrifies me.

“I am very tired,” I admit, fighting off a yawn as I get myself a glass of water. “Just be prepared for a lot of texts from me, wondering what the hell is going on.” Her laugh breaks through the yawn that’s trying to escape, and then she says something to someone in the background. I assume it’s Simon, her husband, who is everything a man should be…plus, he has a sexy accent.

“I wish I could be there for you tomorrow.” I know she wants to be here. She’s told me that a dozen times, but the girl runs around like crazy, trying to manage the store in the French Quarter. And Simon travels a lot, so I understand why she can’t be here.

“Charly, you don’t need to be here. I’m just being melodramatic. I’ll be fine.” It’s true, tomorrow will be great, I’m just incredibly nervous. I’m used to being a worker, not the boss of a whole store, responsible for employees, schedules, and profits. I’m also nervous about the fact that the success of said store rests on skills I’m not even sure I have.

So…yes. Very nervous.

“You got that from me,” she jokes, and I laugh. “I’ll be down to see you by the end of the month. Hopefully, before the store opens, but I can’t make any promises. Simon has a lecture in London at the end of the month, and I’m going with him, so it’ll all depend on schedules.” I sigh at the thought of getting on a plane and heading out of the country for a while. I left New York to get away from Aaron and the memories he ultimately ruined with his wandering dick, but being back here? At home? It’s almost worse with a new set of memories assaulting me. I can’t figure out which is the greater evil.

“Morgan? You there?” Her words shake me back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You okay?” Am I? I know coming home was the right decision, and Charly offering me this job was a dream come true, but I’m starting to wonder if I should have started over somewhere else. Somewhere where no one knows my past or why I was forced to start over. Charly sighs, and I go and sit at my kitchen table that is currently covered in bubble wrap from all the plates my mother put away.

“Morgan, you don’t have to do this, you know…” she says with such sincerity that I almost believe her.

“Yeah, right. If I back out now, you will be fucked.”

“True.” She sighs as I play with some hair that came loose from my ponytail. “But I would understand if you wanted to bail.” As much as I dream of leaving and never coming back, that’s not me. I need to face this. I need to face the future I’ve created for myself. Because the one I thought I would have disintegrated right in front of my eyes.

“I would never do that to you. Besides, being home isn’t so bad. Home-cooked meals, I know where everything is, and you’re my boss. What’s so bad about that?”

“You sure?” she asks, and I smile, even though I know she can’t see me.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want this store to be as successful as the first one.” It’s the truth. She’s put so much effort into the original Head Over Heels, I just don’t want to let her down.

“It will be. You’re the best in the business.” I roll my eyes once again, and she scoffs as if she can see it. “You are. I don’t want you thinking otherwise. I didn’t give you this job because I feel sorry for you. I brought you on because you are an amazing person, you know fashion, and you ran your department at Bloomingdales like a drill sergeant. And that’s what I need. I need a me in Miami, and you’re the next best thing.”

“Thanks.”

I just hope I don’t let her down.

Chapter 3

Owen

“It’s about time you showed up,” Matt calls as I close the door, locking it behind me. The guy looks as if he just rolled out of bed, his long, brown hair tied in a topknot as he struts around in his favorite grey sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt with our gym’s name across the chest. I look at my watch and laugh.

“I’m only five minutes late, jackass.” He throws a towel at me as I head behind the desk and turn on the computer. Matt and I opened this gym five years ago. We both graduated with majors in business and knew we wouldn’t ever be a part of the corporate world. So, we took what we learned and applied it to something we both loved: fitness. Was it an overnight success? Hell, no. It took at least three years to get out of the red. But last year was our best year yet, with this year rivaling even those numbers.

---