He noticed. “What’s wrong? Is something off with your food?”
I blinked. I had done the same thing with Ellison because he was always harping on my weight and he only noticed if I actually ate anything. “No, it’s fine. I’m just…”
“You can’t be full already. You’ve barely eaten a bite.” He frowned, looking puzzled.
I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer. But it felt foreign to eat around a man. Finally, I decided that it wouldn’t matter anyway. He was my neighbor. I forked a mouthful of the noodles and meat sauce into my mouth, immediately spilling some on my shirt. My boobs acted as a catch tray, as usual, catching the brunt of the sauce. I couldn’t see my stomach or my feet when I looked down. A G cup pretty much make sure of that. It also ensured that I pretty much only wore shirts and dresses one day before having to wash them.
I scrambled to wipe the sauce off my top, then reached in my purse for a Stride Pen—soap in a pen to take off stains.
“Damn it,” I said, trying to clean off my bust in the most delicate way possible. “I’m not usually a klutz.”
“You’re not a klutz at all. Spaghetti is a messy food and I personally think they should cut the noodles up and serve it with a spoon. But you’re right—the food here is fantastic.” He enthusiastically finished off his meal and motioned to the waitress. The lunch was all-you-can-eat. “More spaghetti and garlic bread, please.”
I finished tidying up and went back to my meal. He was right—the food was so good that I decided to forget about being self-conscious. I was hungry and I was going to eat.
After a few minutes, Killian asked, “How bad was it? Your marriage?”
I froze, darting a glance his way. “How did you know?”
“I know the signs. My sister was in a bad marriage and it really messed with her head. It took her a long time to regain her sense of self. He didn’t want you to eat, right?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Right. I was in a thinner phase when we got married and Ellison was really unhappy that I gained any weight. But I had been sick when we met—I had had mono and had lost about forty pounds from my normal weight. Ellison assumed that was my normal look. I managed to keep it off for a while, and we got married. Then I started to gain it back—my body isn’t comfortable at a low weight. He started needling me about it, so I stopped eating very much, at least while he was around.”
“You ate when he couldn’t watch you, right? My sister did the same thing.”
“Right. And he couldn’t understand why I didn’t lose weight since I barely ate anything in front of him. We worked together, so I had to slip away from him in order to get a decent meal, and I just avoided dinner mostly and snacked later. It was easier to let him think that I was lazy, rather than argue for my right to eat.”
Killian shook his head. “I don’t understand men who act like that. Was he as controlling in other ways?”
I nodded. “Yes, and I kept my mouth shut to keep the peace. Oh, he never hit me, but I spent eighteen years under his constant criticism. I guess I didn’t realize that the emotional abuse was creeping up on me. It’s easy to excuse behaviors when they’re passive aggressive—and when your partner gaslights you.” I hadn’t intended on diving into the dark corners of my marriage, but since he asked, I decided to answer honestly.
“What finally made you leave?”
“Ellison cheated on me for a year. Magic finally brought out the truth. I cast a spell to find out if he was having an affair, and sure enough, two days later I walked in on him going down on his girlfriend. When we divorced, he managed to steal my half of the magazine we started, and he conned me out of the house. Trust me, I’m not stupid. He was just smart and sleazy, and I… I guess I never expected him to go that far. I trusted him when I shouldn’t have.”
I had probably just shunted Killian fully into the friendzone without meaning to. No man wanted to hear griping against the ex, especially right up front. But I liked Killian. If he ended up a good friend, I’d be happy with that.
Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, a little voice inside whispered.
I glanced at my watch. We had spent ninety minutes over lunch. It was going on 12:30. “I’d better go. I have a job interview at three, and I want to get my purchases home so that I don’t have to worry about leaving them in the car. Though there isn’t a great deal of crime around Moonshadow Bay.” I paused. “When will you be opening the new clinic?”
He leaned back, watching me. “I’ll be looking at the offices I took over this afternoon and examining how much work I need to do to renovate. I’d like to have my office up and running by the new year.”
“If I find a pet—which I am thinking of—I’ll definitely bring her…or him…to you.” I started to pull out my wallet, but he protested.
“No, please, I want to pay. I enjoyed lunch. And I enjoyed the company even more,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand.
Again I felt flustered, since I had been the one to ask him to lunch, but then I decided that if he wanted to pay, I’d be gracious and not object.
“Thank you. I had fun, too. I’ll see you around,” I said, standing.
“I think I’ll stay and have more coffee. Good luck on your interview!” He waved as I started for the door. “Wait, what are you interviewing for?” he called.
I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s for a paranormal investigator job at a place called Conjure Ink,” I said, then waved and pushed open the door.
Conjure Ink was headquartered in an office complex on the outskirts of town, surprisingly close to my house. It was also buttressed against Mystic Wood Park. The building also housed a computer company and an office supply store, and the complex boasted several restaurants as well. Conjure Ink was on the far end to the left, only steps away from the park.
I pushed open the door, peeking inside. There was a receptionist’s desk in front of another door. Otherwise, the waiting area was sparse—a few chairs, a table, and some magazines about UFOs and Bigfoot. The receptionist’s desk had a sign on it that read: ring bell and please wait.
I rang the bell and took a seat, smoothing my hair and making sure I had my tote with the file folder containing my resumé. I had also brought a few articles I had written, in case Tad wanted to see them. I leaned back, waiting. A few minutes later, I readjusted myself, wondering if this was all a joke. But just as I was getting ready to leave, the door behind the desk opened and a young man—or he looked young to me—peeked out.
“Are you here about the job?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes,” I said, standing. I towered over the guy, who couldn’t be more than five-four, and a sinking feeling told me I should probably just turn around and leave.
“I’m Tad Gelphart, and you are…?”
“January Jaxson.” I held out my hand and he took it, giving me a surprisingly strong squeeze. “Is the job still open?”
“Oh yes,” Tad said. “We’ve been looking for the right person for weeks. If you’ll follow me, please.” He led me behind the desk and through the door.
We entered in a large room that had a bank of computer towers against one wall. A balding, bulky man who looked to be around thirty-five was manning that. A woman in her twenties or thirties was hunched over a separate computer, frowning at the monitor screen in front of her. Both were in jeans and sweaters, and I was relieved that I didn’t feel overdressed.