“How did you end up with JJ Beckett today, anyway?”
“I was dog-walking with him, then had to go visit Mama. He thought I was acting weird—he was right—so he followed me there. Then he drove me home from Oak Harbor. I may or may not have been crying hysterically.”
“About what? Are you okay?”
“They’re releasing Mama.”
“Oh, that’s great news.”
“It is. I think it was both relief and a little panic that I don’t have a great place for her to stay. I mean, I was like straight-up sobbing. And James comforted me.”
“Damn. I wish I could get comfort in the form of a penis.” Christina bit her carrot again. Harder this time.
I couldn’t blame her. In the last eighteen months I’d only had sex twice. Though both times with James had more than made up for the dry spells.
“He asked me to dinner,” I told her.
“I hope you said yes because I have a knife in my hand. If you didn’t, I swear, Mia, I will hurt you.” She held the knife and made stabbing motions. “On behalf of all of us Cinderellas who haven’t stumbled on a prince yet, I’m begging you to go to dinner.”
“I said yes.”
“Phew. You’re lucky.”
I spotted my day planner on the kitchen table. Had I left that there? Being a visual person (one of the reasons for all the clutter in my bag and apartment) I put everything into my phone, but I also relied heavily on my physical planner. I had different colored pens and had a key code for everything. It was open to the current week when I could have sworn I’d left it shut and on my nightstand.
“Really?” I stared down at my planner. Sandwiched between my two shifts for the next day was written, “Date with James.” I flipped to the next week. Wednesday had “Dinner with James,” written on it. Underneath that was, “Stay over at James’ apt.”
Peppered throughout the next two weeks were entries like “Walk with James and Amelia,” “Drinks with James,” “Go shopping for sexy underwear to wear for James,” and my personal favorite, “Fly to Miami for the weekend with James.”
The man had lost his damn mind.
It also made me feel stupidly giddy.
“Look at this,” I told Christina, holding up the planner so she could see it. “He wrote himself into my schedule for the next two weeks.”
“Oh my God, you’re going to Miami?” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Chrissy, no, I am not going to Miami. I can’t take three days off work. Plus that’s right after my mom gets out of the rehab facility. This is just all stuff James wants me to do, not anything based on reality.”
“But it’s just so romantic.” She sighed dreamily.
“Or bossy. Entitled.” Romantic. It was romantic. Because I believed that James wanted to spend time with me. For whatever reason, he had picked me to be the focus of his attention, and yes, it did make me feel things. Between my thighs and in my heart. Lots and lots of feels.
“He’s trying to be cute,” Christina said. “If he was trying to be an entitled jerk, he wouldn’t do it cutesy-style like this.”
Hmm. Maybe she had a point. “This is flirting? Not him being a controlling asshat?”
“I think he knows that you can’t actually do all of these things. He probably figures that if he shoots for the stars, he’ll land on the moon.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant. “Am I the star or the moon? Because if I’m the moon, it sounds like he’s settling.”
“You’re neither. He’s trying to give you the stars and the moon.”
“What?” I was confused. “I don’t get it.”
“Look,” Christina said, shooting me a look that said she didn’t appreciate my lack of romance. “If he was going to your work and telling your boss you need time off, that would be controlling. This is just expressing his feelings. He wants to spend time with you. It’s as simple as that.”
“I don’t even understand why.” I bit my lip.
“Right now, I’m not sure why either,” she said, exasperated. “You’re being insane. Enjoy dating JJ Beckett, for crying out loud!”
That was a much stronger reaction than I usually got from her. “Okay, geez.” I closed the planner and held it against my chest. Whether to protect myself from Christina’s wrath or to cuddle against my heart the idea of being with James, I wasn’t sure.
Her voice softened. “I know you don’t want to be like Hot Mama, leaping before you look, but honestly, Mia, JJ is no bad boy. Bad boys don’t follow you when they’re worried about you or leap over counters to pick you up off the floor.”
“He has a reputation as a playboy,” I said, not wanting to admit she was right. “You saw all those women on social media when we stalked him online. They all said he was a hit it and quit it guy.” I may or may not have read more comments than could have been concerned casual interest.
Christina made a raspberry sound. “Whatever. Do you believe everything you read on the internet?”
She had a point. “You think they’re all lying?”
“I think he’s young, good-looking, rich, charming. I’m sure women have been throwing themselves at him for a decade. Yet, he’s going to a lot of trouble to date you. Honestly, you’re kind of a lot of work.”
I frowned at her. “Oh, wow, thanks, that’s nice.”
She gave me a look back as she filled a plastic container with the cut vegetables. “Have you made this easy for him?”
“Probably not,” I said begrudgingly. “But what if he changes his mind and gets tired of working around my schedule in a month?” I could admit it. I was afraid I would fall for James, and right about that time, he would get bored and move on. I had already fallen for James, who was I kidding? But I didn’t want to make it any worse by spending even more time with him.
Her voice softened. “Then you have a good cry, eat some ice cream, and pick yourself back up. You will have had some great sex and some fun and had some fancy dinners. Where’s the flaw in that?”
I knew she was right. “But it’s hard to let go of control.”
“Letting go of control and having fun don’t have to go hand in hand. You’re not your mother, sweetie. Far from it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Why are you so insecure about this? That’s not like you at all.”
That was a great question. I wasn’t sure I liked the answer. “I don’t know how to let someone take care of me. I’m not even sure I know who I am if I’m not the care provider, you know what I mean?”
“As a woman who chooses thoroughly worthless men and takes care of all their needs, yes, I totally know what you mean.”
Taking care of my mother wasn’t the same thing as Chrissy’s codependent men. Well, not now anyway. But maybe before her stroke it hadn’t been all that different. She’d been impulsive and self-centered and I had enabled her.
“Don’t be a martyr,” she added. “Enjoy the attention and the orgasms and the champagne for a hot minute.”