Dear Adam, page 19
Hank runs circles on the baggage claim, happy as a clam to be stretching his legs. Without hesitation, I climb up after him, hurdling suitcases both soft and hard. Other travelers gape in shock and awe as I chase my dog. Hank is close enough now that I can reach for his collar, but as soon as I extend my hand, the carousel stops, knocking me off my feet. Hank and I tumble gracelessly to the ground, taking a pink, hard sided suitcase with us.
“Hey!” someone yells. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I push Hank off me and find two security guards running toward us.
I offer a weak chuckle and sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. We don’t fly often, and someone gets a little anxious, if you know what I mean,” I say, hooking my thumb at Hank, who sits pretty at my feet. I take the opportunity to return him to the crate, doing my best to secure the nearly-mangled lock. “Dogs,” I add with a head shake and a jesting elbow to one of the guards. Both wear matching expressions of disgust. “We’re just going to go now.”
Stacking my bag atop the crate, I briskly push Hank to the nearest exit. Surprisingly, security doesn’t follow.
As soon as we’re outside, I kneel so I’m eye level with the crate. “Why?” I demand.
All I get in return is an unrepentant glare.
“Stop whining!” I say to Hank—who has been giving me puppy dog eyes from the couch all day—for the tenth time.
“What’s got you in a foul mood?” Glenda asks, sitting next to me and taking a bite of pizza.
“You’re here uninvited, for starters,” I mutter.
Glenda either doesn’t hear or chooses to ignore me. Around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni, she says, “She found the phone didn’t she?”
“Why are you here again?” I ask, taking the second slice of pizza off her plate and adding it to my own.
“I knew this was going to happen, and I thought you’d need company,” she says simply, and I’m reminded why I keep Glenda around.
“She found the phone,” I confirm. “And it didn’t go well.”
“Well, can you blame her for being upset?” Despite the fact that she’s right, all the fondness I experienced for her a moment before evaporates.
“No, I can’t blame her. But I did try to give the phone back. The timing was just never right.”
“Did you talk about it?” Glenda asks, eyeing the slice of pizza I stole from her. I cover it with my hand, then lick it for good measure.
“No, we didn’t. She told me to leave and stay in California for all she cared. So here I am.” Hank whines again, and I blow out a puff of air. “Hank also really misses Pretzel, and every time he whines, I’m reminded of what a complete screw up I am.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Glenda says. “But I also think you should give her time to process what you did, then go to her and apologize. Didn’t I overhear something about a big party at the end of summer? Go surprise her and tell you’re sorry. It’ll be just like the movies.”
“Glenda, that’s only two weeks away. I can’t finish this job or expect her to forgive me in two weeks.”
“About that,” Glenda says, avoiding my gaze. “The clients called yesterday and want to cancel the extra kitchen project. They said they under-budgeted and can only afford the spare bathroom now.” She glances at my pizza again, and then steals it from my plate.
“You just watched me lick that,” I say, fighting the urge to gag as she stuffs it into her mouth anyway. “They canceled the entire kitchen project?” She nods. “A spare bathroom will only take a few days,” I say, my heart sinking.
“That gives you more time to pack and think about how you’re going to tell your girl you’re sorry,” Glenda says.
“I guess now is as good a time as any to talk about your future with the company,” I say wearily.
“Don’t worry about it,” Glenda says and pats my knee.
“Do you already have something else lined up?” I ask. “I’d give you a reference, you know. As much as you irritate me, I’ll do whatever I can to get you a good job when this is over.”
“Oh honey,” she says. “Don’t worry at all. I’m coming to Charleston with you.”
“You’re coming…with…me?” I repeat, confused.
“Teenie and I are starting a business together. We’re not sure what yet, but we’ll figure it out. Charleston is full of possibilities.”
“Where are you going to live?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“With your parents, of course.”
“There’s only two bedrooms.”
“Right, so you’ll be on the couch. But it’ll only be temporary. Hey, why don’t we make it a game? See who can find a place first?” Glenda asks, her cheeks rosy with excitement.
“Glenda,” I say, exasperated, her name like a curse word. “It’s getting late. I think it’s time you head home.”
She checks the watch she wears religiously on her left arm. It’s the gold kind with a stretchy band and numbers the size of Texas. “It’s only seven,” she says. “The night is still young. And what if you need me?”
“I won’t need you,” I say with a pointed look at the door.
“About that…” Glenda says. “I sort of already sold my house.”
“What? Why? Where are you going to stay?”
“With you, of course,” she repeats.
I sigh and sink back into the couch cushions, wondering where exactly I went wrong.
Chapter twenty-eight
Aly
“I really wish you could give me some advice right now.”
I sit on the edge of Adam’s bed and watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, reassured that, even if he isn’t awake, he’s still here with me.
“I’ve made such a mess of things, and I don’t know how to fix any of them. My porch is a disaster. Emma and I tried to demolish it, and that went about as well as you’d expect. My heart is in no better shape.” With a sigh, I add, “Levi and I got into a big fight and I told him to leave and go back to California.” A tear glides down my cheek and falls to the floor. I sniffle and wipe at my eye with the back of my hand. “He really hurt me, Adam. I wish you could tell me what to do.”
The door opens with a surprised, “Oh.” My mom softly shuts the door behind her and joins me on the other side of Adam’s bed. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
“I’m here a lot, actually,” I say defensively.
Mom sighs and sets down the bag she’s brought with her. “I didn’t mean it like that, Alyson. You just startled me, that's all.” She digs into the bag, pulls out a bumper sticker that says, “Proud Weenie Dog Dad,” and sets it on the table beside him.
“What is that?” I ask.
A natural blush peeks through all the Chanel makeup she is wearing. “I saw it at a boutique today and thought Adam might like it.”
“Did you bring that, too?” I ask, pointing to the stuffed wiener dog I found on the Fourth of July.
“I did.”
I chew on this information before answering. “Why?”
Mom glances around the room before her eyes finally meet mine. “I know how much he loves that dog. And…when he wakes up, I want him to know I care. He’s my son. I love him.”
I’m surprised to find tears welling in my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll love them both, Mom.” And knowing Adam, he really will. The second he’s able, there’s no doubt he’ll be proudly flashing that bumper sticker all over Charleston.
“I care about you too, you know,” she says. “And I’m proud of you both.”
Unable to say anything, I simply nod and turn to face the other wall to wipe the tears that have fallen. I feel her hand on my back before she encompasses me into a hug.
“I can cover for you if you want to take the day off,” Emma says tentatively as soon as I step into Bloomie’s.
“Do I look that bad?” I ask, glancing at my reflection in the shop window. A piece of hair stands straight up, and I pat it down.
“You look…tired,” Emma says carefully.
I am tired. After my fight with Levi, I haven’t slept very well, and visiting my brother this morning left me even more emotionally drained.
“I’m fine,” I reassure Emma. “Just a long night of tossing and turning and hoping a wild animal didn’t come through the hole in the side of the house.”
“I told you we should’ve let a professional take your porch off,” Emma says, crossing her arms. “And it’s not even that big.”
After only a few minutes of hammering yesterday, Emma found out she actually really loves demolition. However, one wrong swing left a hole in the siding large enough for a bear to fit through.
When the bell above the door tinkles, I turn to greet the customer.
“Good morn—” I say, falling silent when I realize it’s Hudson.
“Good morning, Aly,” he says smoothly and glides to where I’m standing. I can’t help but glance down at his feet to see if maybe, by some small miracle, he’s wearing socks today.
He’s not.
“How is our favorite flower shop owner?” he asks, and I cringe when he takes my hands. If he notices, he pretends he doesn’t because he keeps holding them. His hands are actually very soft…too soft. I tug out of his grasp and shove them into the front pocket of my apron.
“I’m good, Hudson,” I say dryly. “What can I help you with?”
“Let’s see. What can you help me with?” He rests his finger on his chin, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. He’s so dramatic. “How about I pick you up Friday night around six and we go out together?”
“Friday night? That’s the night of the gala,” I say.
“Exactly. Don’t tell me you’re still set on taking that boy who drives a Mini Cooper with eyelashes.”
I almost tell him, of course I am, but then I remember Levi isn’t here, and he’s not coming back. Especially not after our fight. My stomach sinks at the memory, but I shove it to the farthest corner of my mind.
“Well?” Hudson asks.
“I’m not going with anyone,” I say firmly.
“So, if we bump into each other at the gala and sit together, it wouldn’t hurt. Is that what you’re saying?” Hudson asks.
I consider that. I guess, technically, it wouldn’t hurt anything. I would be saved from Mom and Dad’s wrath, the night would go a lot smoother, and as long as he didn’t pick me up, it couldn’t be considered a date. I’d also have my own way home in case things got to be too much.
I tap my index finger against my lower lip before answering. “No, I guess that wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“Great. So it’s settled. I’ll see you then,” he says, and bends to kiss me on the cheek, his wintergreen breath lingering. I’m so tired, so mentally exhausted, I don’t even move after he’s gone. Distantly, I hear the bells on the door jingle, and Emma snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“What was that all about?” Emma asks. “Why did you just agree to that? How did he even know Levi was out of town?”
“He probably doesn’t even know that Levi left,” I say, which I know doesn’t answer her question. That’s simply how Hudson is, showing up and flexing every chance he gets. He probably would’ve asked me with Levi standing right here. “And why shouldn’t I have agreed? Levi’s not here. Hudson isn’t that bad. We’ve probably made him out to be a lot worse than he is.”
“Aly, he doesn’t wear socks with his loafers. And don’t get me started on how small his feet are. I know for a fact I saw those loafers for sale at Ann Taylor Loft.”
Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I looked at the same pair. “I can tolerate one evening with him if it means I get my parents off my back for a little while. Besides, it can’t be any worse than going alone.”
Emma sucks in her lower lip and gives a noncommittal hum.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, unsure if I’m reassuring her or myself.
When I get home, Pretzel is tucked under the covers of my bed. She looks so pitiful, and I know if she had thumbs, she would’ve turned on a sappy break-up film.
“Do we need to watch a rom com?” I ask. She side-eyes me, then lets out a small yip. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her and run to the kitchen. I grab all the chocolate I can find, a box of tissues, and the carton of Milk Bones. I scoot in beside her and toss her a bone, which she happily licks up. Even though it’s seventy-eight degrees and the middle of summer, I press play on The Holiday and snuggle next to Pretzel.
“Do you miss Hank, girl?” I ask as I scratch behind her ears. At the mention of Hank’s name, her ears perk up and she looks around the room for him. “I miss him, too,” I whisper and wish for the millionth time—for Pretzel’s sake of course—that dogs could FaceTime.
Pretzel snuggles herself deeper into the crook of my arm, and I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I would’ve had to go through these past few weeks without her. And to think, at the very beginning of our relationship, she took every opportunity to cause trouble for me. And now, she’s snuggled up next to me; the shift is almost unthinkable. We’ve become a team.
I snap a picture to send to Adam, and his phone lights up on my nightstand with my incoming text. I push aside all thoughts of Levi, open another chocolate, and burrow deeper into the covers. Pretzel and I are simply two heartbroken girls, cuddling our sorrows away.
Chapter twenty-nine
Levi
“I think that’s the last of it, don’t you?” I ask Glenda.
“You tell me,” she replies. “You’re the one who packed everything.”
She’s been watching me carry boxes to a moving van for the past three hours, and giving her unsolicited opinion on everything instead of lifting a finger to help. I guess I shouldn’t be too upset. She’s the one driving the moving van from California to South Carolina.
“Are you sure you're up for this drive?” I ask. Not only has she agreed to drive the entire thirty-five hours, but she’s also taking Hank along with her since I recently found out the hard way he’s not the best flier.
“Oh yeah,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “I was a truck driver before I met you, you know.”
“Your resume said you were an office manager for an eye doctor,” I say skeptically.
“Is that what she put?” Glenda said absently as she stroked Hank’s head. “I told Teenie to make it sound believable, and I guess it did the trick.”
You know those moments in the movies when a record scratches and everything comes to a standstill? That’s what happened to me.
“Teenie?” I ask. “As in…my mom?”
Glenda’s hand flies to her chest with a gasp, and when she turns to me, her eyes are wide as saucers behind her glasses.
“Shoot!” Glenda says. “You were never supposed to know!”
“Know what?” I ask through gritted teeth.
With a world-weary sigh, Glenda says, “Your mom and I have known each other for years.”
“What?” I sputter. “How?”
“I used to live in Charleston, you know.” My eyebrows raise clear to my hairline, but before I can ask more questions, Glenda continues. “Your mom and I met at Stitch and Sip.”
“You were…” My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my gosh. That’s why you looked so familiar when I interviewed you.”
Glenda nods solemnly.
“What were you going to do if I didn’t hire you?”
She shrugs. “I would’ve found some other way to weasel into your life.”
“So how did you end up out here?”
“I wanted a change of scenery,” she says simply, and I chuckle at how on brand that is for her, to move clear across the country on a whim. “And when you moved out here, your mom asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“So you two have been in cahoots this entire time?” I ask.
“Yep!” Glenda says happily, then walks over to the moving truck, and for reasons unknown to me, opens one of my carefully packed boxes.
Finally, everything makes sense. How woefully under-qualified Glenda is for her job. How fast she and Mom became best friends. Why Glenda had always had her nose stuck so far into my business.
I make a mental note to do more extensive research before actually hiring someone next time, then remember, there won’t be a next time. I’m closing up shop in California and heading home to work for Dad again.
When I called to ask what he thought about me moving back, his response was, “About time. We’ve got a big project in Mount Pleasant that I could really use your help on next month.”
And that was that. So, I finished the last remodel in California as quickly as I could, found a renter for the warehouse, packed up, and here we are.
“Did you ever apologize to that girl? What was her name? Amy?” Glenda asks, rifling through a box. She pulls out a pair of my underwear, the ones with unicorns on them, and lifts them up for me to see.
“Her name is Aly,” I snap and grab the underwear from her. “And quit going through the boxes I just spent days packing up.”
“Testy,” she whistles. “I take that as a no.”
“I tried. I’ve tried calling her, texting her, everything I can think of. She must’ve blocked my number.”
“I probably would’ve, too,” Glenda says, examining her nails. Today, they are bright red to match the shirt she has tucked into her stretchy, yellow pants that are pulled up to her chin, per usual.
“What else am I supposed to do?” I say, thinking of the YouTube video I watched on box breathing to keep myself from getting worked up around Glenda. Unfortunately, all the video accomplished was reminding me of Aly and her love for DIY videos.
“Tonight’s the night of her family’s big shindig, right?”
I look down at my watch to check the date. How could I have forgotten?
I nod, and Glenda says, “Well, are you ready or what? You’ve got a girl to get back, and I’ve got a thirty-five hour drive with a dog that snores louder than you do. Let’s get this show on the road. I’ve been waiting hours for you anyway.”
