Haze

chapter 19

"You want four-f*cking-hundred dollars to repair my phone?"

Tomorrow was definitely not good.

I was at the cell phone store, trying my damndest not to give myself a heart attack. Well, at least if I had a heart attack and died, I'd get out of paying my student loans. Hmm...

"Ma'am, you didn't pay for the accidental coverage and the parts are still expensive for this model." The clerk was timid and mechanical, obviously someone who was just reciting company policy and barely listening to me.

"You f*cking piece of—" I was mad at everything again, but I stopped myself abruptly. "I just don't get it." I rested my hands on the counter, took a deep breath, and stabilized myself. This guy was a mere retail peasant, probably just doing his job so he could pay for college.

Shit, I might end up like this...

Waking up had been peaceful—well, until I remembered I didn't have a job or any real plan at all. The coffee left in the kitchen cupboard was old and stale, and my wonky coffeemaker from college didn't do it any justice on top of that. If I hadn't needed the caffeine so badly, I probably would have just dumped the pot down the drain after the first miserable sip.

There were few things that made me madder in this world than shitty coffee.

On top of that, it rained the whole way to the phone store. As soon as I got inside, it stopped immediately. I hadn't heard from Jack or anyone else, and with my broken phone, dialing numbers was a formidable task, nearly impossible. I had tried to call the cell phone store, but after ten minutes of mistyped digits, I gave up.

Although it was tough, I regained my composure and tried to relax. "Is there anything else I can do about this?"

The employee nervously eyed the line of customers that was forming behind me. "At this point ma'am, not really. You could get a cheaper phone or get a temporary prepaid phone from somewhere."

Ugh. I really liked this phone, the primary reason why I got it. Timothy had tried to convince me to order one of those fancy protective cases—he was always obsessed with new gadgets; I think he was more excited about them than he was about me—but I had forgotten to follow through with the plan. His bitching about how expensive they were in the retail phone stores had definitely contributed to my lack of action. Ordering stuff online was easy but also easy to forget to do.

I snatched up my phone and thanked the employee for his time, tossing in an almost inaudible I'm sorry for my behavior at the end. He seemed like he was probably used to people acting like I did.

I checked at a couple of other places, pricing out prepaid phones because I most likely wasn't going to be able to find a job if I couldn't type any numbers into my phone. The problem with getting a prepaid phone was that my contacts wouldn't transfer over, which would mean hours of trial and error as I tried to manually decipher the mangled digits on the cracked screen.

Time was definitely something that I had—but that still seemed like a waste of it.

After arriving back at the apartment, I sat down on my bed and started pulling up job listings on my computer, feeling more and more helpless the more I clicked. I really hated starting over, especially since I had been in such a great position. Starting over after you had just started over was tremendously miserable.

I would have to figure out the new subway schedule and plan my days differently. I would have a new boss and co-workers. I would have to find a new nearby coffee shop.

I didn't want any of that right now. Why couldn't things go back to how they were?

I liked how things had been before I got into this mess. Yeah, I felt like kind of baby for whining about this—everyone changed jobs now and then; it wasn't that big of a deal—but I couldn't control how I felt in my compromised state.

My phone buzzed once, just a text. I figured I'd barely be able to read it, but I decided to check anyway. It was from Jesse:

Him: Rent is due tomorrow. Don't forget!

Yeah, I wished that I hadn't even picked up the phone to check it, because now, I really wanted to smash it into oblivion and take it off life support. How could all of this be happening at once? On Sunday, I was in a dreamland, not concerned about anything at all in the world. Jack had calmed me, assuaged the things that had troubled me.

Now, I was swimming on my own and in the sky above me was a f*cking electrical storm. I didn't even have a lifejacket. It was obvious that as soon as my legs stopped moving, I was going to drown—if the bolts of lightning didn't kill me first. I held back my tears of frustration.

The first thing I did—well, first thing after diffusing the smash the phone bomb that almost went off—was log on to my bank's website and check my account balance. After typing in my username and password, the urge to cry crushed my willpower like an elephant stepping on a mouse.

Either the decimal point was in the wrong place, or I was f*cked. I knew it was the latter.

I definitely didn't have enough for both rent and even the cheapest prepaid phone. Where had all my money gone? I had gotten so wrapped up in Jack's spendthrift mentality that I had blown way more money than I had intended on coffee and lunches.

For the first and probably only time ever, I was enraged at myself for putting my graduation money toward my student loans instead of creating an emergency fund for a time like this. I guess it had seemed like it was the right thing to do given my desire to be responsible.

However, that money would have totally saved my ass right now.

My pillow absorbed the majority of my tears as I sobbed my heart out, regretting almost everything that I had done in the past few months. It hurt to fail at being an adult, to accept additional responsibilities and keep your act together. Why didn't I want anyone to help me? What made doing everything by yourself so damn appealing?

I had told my parents I didn't want them to pay my cell phone bill anymore, even though they wanted to keep me on the family plan after I left for NYC. I was really regretting that decision now. Should I pay the rent and cripple my ability to communicate? Try to work something out with the landlord?

Well, as long as it didn't involve sleeping with him or something, it couldn't hurt to try, could it?

The rest of the day passed by in a haze. I felt delirious, like I was sick with the flu, minus any real symptoms. The world was hard to perceive and understand as it stood.

I came to a couple of conclusions as the day dragged on, night rapidly overwhelming the city. No, I wasn't ready to ask Jack for help, especially not since I had temporarily broken things off with him in an attempt to assert my dominance as a functioning, productive, working member of society. I didn't want to be wishy-washy.

I didn't want to tell Jesse about it either. He didn't need any additional stress from me, especially not when my poor decisions could negatively affect his living situation. I had to do whatever it took to ensure that my f*ck up stayed as far away from him as possible.

The burden would have to fall on my parents. I couldn't subject anyone else to it. They had already witnessed me at my most humble more than one time in my life. I would probably be scolded, but I guess a verbal lashing would be better than being homeless and penniless.

As I prepared to attempt to dial my mom's number, Jesse knocked on my door. "Hey, Effie. Do you want me to deliver the checks tomorrow?" He talked through the wood, and I was okay with that.

F*ck.

"Uh. You don't have to," I said. "You always do it, so I guess it's my turn."

He opened the door and stuck his head in. "Effie, it's really no problem. I know the landlord well. He's super nice."

I gulped, hoping that it wasn't too apparent that I had been sobbing. I needed an excuse. "I don't know where my checkbook is right now and I wanna finish this movie first. Just let me take the checks to him, okay?"

He looked at my buried position on the bed, my whole body under the blankets, my laptop sitting on my chest. "Yeah, okay. Just don't forget!" he said.

"Yeah, yeah, Jesse. I won't." Little did he know, rent was essentially the only f*cking thing I could think about, even with the movie blasting from my speakers.

He went back to his room after that and my heart rate slowed to normal. Dammit, I wasn't going to be able to call my mom tonight. Today had been rough enough to me already. I would call her tomorrow—if I could physically bring myself to do it.

I really wanted to think about Jack. Every moment that I spent thinking about him calmed me, brought me back to that place where everything seemed to effortless and obvious. And then, I'd return to the very painful fact that I didn't have a plan for myself.

Back and forth, all night long.

***

The next morning I awoke covered in sweat, my dreams having been nothing but nightmares. My plan for the day involved calling my mother and begging for both help and forgiveness. I wasn't going to tell her that I lost my job, just that I had overspent like an idiot and needed money until my next paycheck. I couldn't even start to explain to her why I had lost my job.

I couldn't even imagine how badly that would have gone.

Yeah, mom, I lost my job because I got fixated on this hot guy who I've only known for about a month who’s been perfect to me who happened to be a potential client at the record label. I definitely used my best judgment, I swear. You gotta believe me!

After I got her approval—I was convinced I could pull this off; that didn't make it something I was looking forward to, however—I would write my check and take the checks to the landlord and ask him not to cash it for a couple of days. Shouldn't be a problem at all, and it would give me some breathing room.

I paced around the apartment for most of the morning, making myself some eggs and more shitty coffee instead of calling. By the time I actually picked up the phone to even attempt the deed, it was mid-afternoon.

Very surprisingly, I managed to choose her from the contacts on my second try. I started laughing when I realized she had a call tone, something I would have assumed she would have labeled a waste of money. It was a soothing snippet of classical music, one that was far funnier—and far less soothing—than I should have found it. When I heard her voice, my amusement ended abruptly.

"Effie? Hi."

"Hi, mom," I said quietly. "What's up?"

"Your father and I are on a shopping trip. We're going to pick out some new furniture and then get groceries. That cats did a number on that old couch."

"That's cool," I said, feigning interest the very best I could.

"You haven't called in so long. We've missed you!"

I knew that was coming. "But you always keep me posted with your texts. And it's so busy here."

"I suppose I do, and I suppose you're right. What's new with you? Are you on your lunch break or something?

Well, that was one thing I hadn't considered very well. I guess I was going to straight up lie.

"Yeah, just having a quick bite to eat. Listen," I said, pausing to try and keep my composure. "I, uh..."

Through some maternal magic, she sensed my unrest. "Is something the matter, Effie? Did something happen? Do you need money?"

She had pressed that button and I was helpless. And she mentioned money before I did! I started to sob again, but I wasn't about to be totally honest. "I don't have enough money for rent and I won't get paid for another week."

"Honey, I told you—"

"I'm so sorry," I whined, sniffling between each word, interrupting her before she rubbed more salt in the wound.

"I think it's clear you know you messed up," she said, apparently trying to attach a lesson to her approval. "And I'm not going to turn away my only child."

"What?" I asked, confused by how easily she was giving in.

"Effie, you know we haven't been that open with each other. I'm just glad you came to me to ask for help. It shows that you trust me. You can always tell me anything."

God, I couldn't believe how frail I had become. I felt even worse now about lying, realizing that she was using my moment of weakness to try to rekindle our relationship. It was okay. "Thanks, Mom," I said sheepishly. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"You know how much we love you. We're so proud that our daughter has a job in New York City! Everyone is so excited when we tell them."

I knew she was just trying to be nice, but I needed to end this because I was about to become even more of a wreck than I already was after witnessing her pride. "Mom, I have to go back to work now. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Call us anytime. When we get home, I'll transfer the money to your account."

"Thank you so much," I said, meaning it more than I ever had in my life. "I love you guys."

"We love you, too."

The call ended and my crying began again. A different sort of tears this time.

***

My hands shook as I carried the checks to the landlord's "office." It was room on the ground floor with an open door and a desk inside. Although I was fairly sanguine about my situation in that moment, I still retained my doubts.

I didn't want to be that person, the one that always needed just a couple extra days.

It'll never happen again, I swear!

After lightly slapping myself on my cheek, I took a deep breath and moved on. There was no reason to assume the worst about this. I hadn't done anything yet, and as far as the landlord was concerned, I had always paid on time. This wasn't about to become a habit.

When I got into the office, the landlord was seated at his desk, staring at a computer screen that was facing away from me.

"Hi, Mr. Hunter" I said meekly.

He looked away from the screen, somewhat surprised by my appearance. Mr. Hunter was an older man—I think he was fast-approaching eighty, per Jesse's insider info—who had lived in this building his whole life. I had talked to him a little bit when I first signed the amended lease, learning about his daughter that lived in Seattle and his dog, Terri, an aptly named Yorkshire terrier.

The dog's bed was empty at that moment. "I'm sorry," he said, scrunching up his features and squinting through his glasses. "What was your name again? I definitely remember you. I'm sorry."

"I'm Effie. From 317 with Jesse Carver."

"Oh, yes, yes, Jesse. I was expecting to see him today. I always like our monthly chats."

Great decision, Effie. Now you're depriving him of his favorite encounter of the month.

"I'm sorry. I decided to give him a break this month. He's been working longer hours than usual."

"Aren't you just the sweetest, then, huh?" He smiled at me and moved his hands from the keyboard and mouse to the middle of the desk. "Jesse's a real hard worker, I can tell. And you can call me Edwin."

I continued to awkwardly hold the checks in my hand, not sure if I should hand them over before asking him for the extension or not. "I can take those," he said, clearing up my confusion immediately. I leaned forward and breathed slowly as I handed him the checks.

"Listen, Edwin," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. "Is it possible to wait a couple of days to cash my check? The money should be in my account by tomorrow or the day after."

He laughed. "I can always tell when someone's nervous about something." Edwin didn't say anything after that, but clicked away at his computer again.

I stood in an awkward silence, waiting for something to happen. I fake laughed. "Yeah, I just hate inconveniencing people. I always feel bad even when people say it's no problem."

"Let me check the records." A concerned look broke out across his face, further contributing to my growing horror. I felt wobbly and disoriented, so I discreetly—and calmly—sat down in the chair next to me. He eyed the checks carefully, looking over the antiquated frames of his glasses as he attempted to identify some apparently minute detail.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. I suddenly doubted my ability to pay rent at all. Had I forgotten to pay for the last few months or something?

"I can't accept this, miss," he said, sliding my check back toward me.

A whole macabre chorus of alarms went off inside of me. I didn't know what this was, but it sounded f*cking scary as hell.

"What's the matter?" I stammered. "Is everything okay?"

Edwin seemed to freeze up as if confused. "There's no trouble. Your account is in the black. For the rest of the year. I'm not going to keep taking money. It'd make me a greedy landlord." He smirked.

I took in a huge gulp of air, as my mind struggled to come to terms with this development. In a way, it felt like I was at some awards ceremony, receiving something that literally made no sense for me to receive. "I don't understand." I said it at the exact moment I thought it.

"Your, uh, brother, came by yesterday. Paid me cash. Real nice fella."

"My brother?" Had I stumbled into a sci-fi movie by mistake? Was this identity theft or something? My eyes stared at the floor. "I'm an only child."

"Miss, that's between you and God. Or whatever you subscribe to. Money's there, nothing you can do about now. Jack convinced me to take it. And he said he was your brother."

That sneaky little f*cker! A devious smile broke out across my lips when I heard him say it, but I fought it, trying not to be too obvious about it. God, and what a creep. My brother?

Just play along, even if it's gross.

"Wow!" I said. "What a surprise. I can't believe it." It sounded like I had read it off a teleprompter. Edwin didn't seem to notice.

"Well, he surprised me too. Said he had good reason for it. Family inheritance that he wanted to share or something. I don't give a damn one way or another. Money's all money to me."

I heard some tapping on the door behind Edwin and he leaned back and opened it. Terri ran out of the room, bounding in my direction and hopping on my leg. I wholeheartedly welcomed the whimsical distraction.

"You old fool!" Edwin called. "Leave the customers alone. Get in your bed." Terri didn't listen.

"It's okay," I said, smiling and petting the dog's soft fur. "She's fun." I guess the landlord was the only one allowed to have pets in this building. The dog seemed just as excited as I was. It softened me a lot. Terri oozed unconditional love, her tail wagging back and forth with a frenetic energy that I could never match.

"It's less fun when you deal with her every day and night. She never tires out."

"I can imagine." I grabbed the stray check on the desk and neatly ripped it into quarters before shoving the pieces into my pocket. Edwin seemed to be focusing on his computer screen again, so I decided to make my exit. "I'm gonna sneak out," I said. "Thanks again, Edwin."

"Don't thank me," he said. "Thank your buddy, Jack."

"I'll try."

Edwin tried to regain control of Terri and succeeded this time. The dog settled into the oversized plush bed and suddenly looked comically small next to the huge doggie furniture, which added to the already overwhelming cuteness.

I stepped into the hall and made my way back up the stairs, feeling like every step I reached was another accomplishment independent of the one that came before it. Honestly, I felt somewhat euphoric but also uncertain. Something told me there was some condition attached to Jack's gesture, something that I hadn't uncovered just yet.

After walking back in the apartment—I had left it unlocked, assuming that I wouldn't be long; probably not the best idea, but whatever—I sat down at the table and poured myself a totally rotten cup of coffee. It tasted like shit, but hey, why did I care? My day tasted better already.

I realized I needed to get in contact with Jack. He had done this without my input, and while I was a little disappointed to rely on his charity—defending my honor still felt like a real thing whether it was stupid or not—this brought a ton of relief. I had some time to get my shit together, some time to reflect on the bullshit that had taken place. Sam had been literally vicious, like a rabies-stricken dog. Had I stuck around, he probably would have ripped my throat out until my blood soaked the carpet in the office.

I wasn't ready to die.

Fueled by some fresh caffeine, I went head-to-head with my broken phone. My patience was freshly renewed after the surprise downstairs, so I figured now was the time to make a move. I sat down on my bed, staring through the broken glass, trying my hardest to navigate my contacts.

I got Jack centered on the screen, but every time I pressed his name, it chose the contact directly above or below.

"Dammit." I was clenching my teeth. The very simple act was feeling quite arduous, as I predicted it would.

I kept my cool, but yeah, this was tough. Finally, I got his number centered on the screen and slowly brought my finger against the green call button. I delicately tapped against it, hoping not to accidentally trigger some other part of the screen.

Bam! I got it. The call began. I fell onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"Hello?" Jack's voice carried a hint of sarcasm, like he knew exactly why I was calling him before I said anything.

"Hi, Jack. Do you have something you'd like to say to me?"

I heard what sounded like some papers shuffling around. "I miss you."

Was he going to play dumb? Maybe he didn't think I would have noticed.

"Jack, I think there's something else you need to tell me." I held my ground.

He quietly laughed. "Maybe you need to tell me something. Like thanks."

"Jack, you a*shole! I didn't ask for anything." I wasn't sure if I was actually perturbed about his random act of kindness or not.

His quiet laughing became a guffaw, and I couldn't help but join in. "I'm going to stay at my suite tonight. Where we first met. I want you to come stay with me."

"We first met at MCI," I reminded him. "I don't wanna stay there."

"I'm not kidding. We need to talk. Seriously."

I dug my toes into the comforter on the bed, my free hand mindlessly toying with my hair. "At the Palace?"

"Yeah. I'll send a car whenever you're ready."

"But I never agreed to anything," I said, delicately walking the line between saying yes and no.

"Effie, I'm serious." He actually did sound serious, free from his usual jovial tone. "I've been thinking about this a lot and we need to talk about it."

This was weird but in a good way. I had called him to talk, and here he was asking me to talk while we talked. "Okay, Jack. You're on."

"Okay. I need to finish up some work, but after that, anytime is good. Do you want me to make dinner?"

"Sure." I had nothing better to do.

"So six-thirty is okay?"

"Yeah."

"Be ready then," he said. "See ya, Effie."

The call ended and I sat there in silence. I figured he had some apology to give, some insight into why things were happening as they were. I was intrigued for sure, but I had no idea what direction this would go.

And now my f*cking apartment was paid off for the rest of the year. Was he just trying to make me some slacker who sat at home all day doing nothing? I didn't like that idea one bit—but then I realized it was actually up to me to find another job. I had one less bill to pay for the time being, and that wasn't bad. I wondered if should I call my mom and tell her to call off the money transfer.

No, not yet. She liked that she had the opportunity to help me after I had turned her away so many times in the past. My humbling of myself had actually turned out to be a good thing.

I packed some clothes in my backpack and sat there on my computer, watching episodes of TV shows instead of looking for jobs. I didn't know what Jack had up his sleeve, but wondering about it was really driving me crazy. I couldn't focus on anything. In this situation, mindless entertainment would distract me better than job searching, I was sure of that.

Obsessively watching the clock, I allowed the day to fade away slowly. I needed to savor these long summer nights, because winter would be arriving soon and it would be cold as hell. Why couldn't it just be summer forever?

Finally, it was time. The limo was waiting outside, ready to take me to that fancy hotel where all of my troubles had really begun. Jesse hadn't arrived home, so I left him a note on the table that just said "Out with Jack."

The limo was empty, and Percy was friendly and affable as usual. I sunk into my seat and did my best to keep my mind straight. I felt like a canvas, one attacked by splashes of random color from a rogue painter. The colors blended and coalesced, the intended shades a mystery.

Life had too many questions, and the harder we fought to discover the answers, the more they evaded us. You could spend your whole life trying to make sense of everything, only to suddenly uncover the answer the second you stopped trying.

Sometimes you were inches away when it felt like miles. And because you didn't know, you'd actually wander miles away, a self-fulfilling prophecy regarding wisdom.

The trip to Jack's suite seemed to take longer than usual, my mind overwhelmed by flashing memories. What had gone wrong? Had anything actually gone wrong? Were the pieces just finally fitting together? Why did I remain so obstinate, so unwilling to budge with regard to my career options?

What was the source of that feeling?

"Miss Jacobs, we're here. You can sit in the back as long as you want because I've got all night, but I just wanted to let you know we've arrived. It's my duty."

"Oh, thanks, Percy," I blurted out. I hadn't even realized that the limo had stopped moving. That familiar hotel was in the picture, the one I had visited with Jesse not that long ago. It felt like years, but I knew it wasn't.

"Jesus, girl, you've got something big going on in that pretty head of yours." Percy let out a boisterous laugh.

"Yeah. You could say that." I looked away, not quite embarrassed but also not quite comfortable.

I grabbed my bag and bid Percy farewell, walking up to the hotel by myself. Jack wasn't there waiting for me, and I didn't know if it was intentional or not. The walk to the lobby wasn't glamorous at all, just mundane and predictable.

The interior of the Palace was gorgeous as usual, and I couldn't help feeling humbled by its sheer power. I walked inside, finding Jack near the elevator. He looked gorgeous as usual, his appearance so recklessly clean-cut, if that made any sense. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the initial response my body had when seeing him.

"Follow me, miss," he said, acting as if he owned the place. I nodded and followed along. We stepped into the elevator and rode to the forty-second floor, just like we had the first time. The attendant made some small talk with Jack; I couldn't get my own lips to move.

Soon, we were there, the creaky elevator coming to stop. Jack led me to the room, our walk just as silent as the elevator ride had been. He unlocked the door and led me to the living room area, sitting on a chair that had a counterpart right across the way—face-to-face.

I tossed my bag on the floor near the chair and took a deep breath.

"Drink?" Jack asked.

"Yes. Anything."

"I can deal with that." He disappeared into the kitchen and moved bottles and glasses around. I stared at the bare walls of the suite. They were neutral, free from any decorations or reminders of success. Maybe that's why he kept this place—to hide from those images.

Jack returned with the drinks, dry Manhattans, and I accepted mine eagerly. I sipped and set it on the coffee table.

"I know a lot has happened," he said quietly.

"That's an understatement." I stared at him, trying to gauge what was going on inside his head. The harder I looked, the more I wanted to just cuddle up with him in that chair and fall asleep. I gave myself a figurative slap and straightened out my head.

"And I know what I want to happen." He paused, sipping his Manhattan, savoring every drop. "I just don't know if it's what you want."

C'mon, Jack, I thought. Keep going. Tell me what it is. Unwilling to wait, I took control.

"Why did you pay for my apartment? I didn't need that!" After I said it, I expected him to say Yeah, you definitely f*cking needed it. You had to call your mom to beg for money!—but he didn't.

"Effie, please. I wanted to do it. So I did."

"Why can't I solve my own problems like an adult? Without someone intervening?"

His retort was snappy and biting. "Why the hell can't I help someone that I care about? Maybe your mental and physical well-being is important to me."

My toes tapped nervously against the carpet. I felt stuck, mildly defeated. This was like yelling at someone for buying you a present for your birthday because you were going to buy the same thing yourself. "What's this all about?" I asked.

"I'm starting a label, as I told you already. I want you to work for me."

A rush of warmth overwhelmed me, but then it turned to cold, blackness. "Did you set me up or something? Get me fired so that I wouldn't have a choice?" I didn't realize how awful I sounded until after I said the words. They were out though, so now I had to deal with the consequences.

He didn't respond. Had I just taken this too far and ruined the best plan yet? Was he about to snap? I really felt like shit.

"No." Lifting his drink, he poured almost half of it down his throat at once, swallowing and then rubbing his eyes. I could see his lip twitching slightly, that little quirk that seemed to surface in situations like these. "That's not what I did."

"Sorry." I stared off into the room in a daze, wishing that the curtains were open so I could see that cathedral again. I didn't dare move from my seat, however. "What I said was rude. I'm sorry."

Jack didn't say anything. Great move being a bitch, Effie.

"It's just—" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. "I wanted to, uh, work for something. I don't know, it's kind of stupid. My dad always talked about hard work and it affected me. It's stupid." I started at my toes as they went deeper into the carpet.

His eyebrows furrowed. "It's not some bullshit position," he said firmly. "It's accounting at my label. It actually needs to get done. You can't just pretend to do it. I don't need to go to jail for tax evasion."

Something inside of me just wouldn't activate. His offer seemed like the greatest thing possible, along with the worst. But why? I didn't even know. I couldn't come up with a reason—I could only feel it. Was coming up with a solution on my own better than what he was saying? It sounded like a dream job.

"Work for you." I said it as if it were an outfit I grabbed off the rack and had carried into the dressing room to see how it fit me. I guess it was my vulnerability that made me so distant in that moment, my reptilian brain falsely claiming that it had discovered danger and that I should flee to save myself.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Stupid.

"Well?"

My nerves were starting to loosen from the alcohol. "I'm not sure I can answer," I said honestly.

"I hope you believe me. I didn't know that this was going to happen, that Sam was so much of a f*cking creep."

"Yeah," I said quietly, suddenly remembering that incident. It started to race through my veins like venom. Had a snake just bitten me?

"This all just sort of happened," he said. "I've been thinking about it so much, and it's the only thing that makes sense to me."

My composure started to weaken, but I battled to control myself. "It sounds pretty good, but—"

"But what?" he asked with rising intensity. "Why does wanting you have to be at odds with your goals? Why can't we just be happy together instead of deconstructing everything? What's wrong with wanting us to be a real thing? It'll be everything we've ever wanted and more. It'll be perfect." He stopped and stared right into me. "Effie, if I can't wake up next to you every morning, I don't know what I'll do with myself. I've never wanted anything more than I want you."

I was back at square one, furious at myself, furious at these walls I had constructed for no reason at all. I couldn't seem to shake them, couldn't seem to admit to myself that what Jack wanted was actually the same thing I wanted. Why couldn't I just say the f*cking words?

Like an unwanted visitor, the tears arrived, spilling down my cheeks and settling on my lap. I started to sob, the chokes of agony the culmination of so many ups and downs, highs and lows, moments when the answer wasn't clear. I felt washed up, like a movie star past her prime, forced to confront a harsh reality head-on and deal with it.

By the time my crying peaked, Jack was there, his defenses down, his body cradling mine as if he'd just rescued me from a burning building. I felt safe in his arms as I always did, the feeling I tried to ignore when I had to make decisions like these. If it were up to my emotions alone, I would have said yes in seconds. Nothing could touch me when I was with him.

"It's okay, Effie." His words were like a plea, an instinctive, sympathetic response to my breakdown.

But something inside of me wanted to remain logical, to be the rational, sane, thinking person that I'd always strived to be. I was unfairly comparing the term emotional to the scene that Timothy had created in the coffee shop, trying to distance myself from that sort of unfiltered insanity that ruined lives and humiliated people.

Just because you made a plan didn't mean that you couldn't deviate from it. Just because you felt something didn't mean you should hide it.

"I'm not the enemy," Jack said as he peppered my forehead with gentle kisses. "I feel like you suspect me every step of the way of having some ulterior motive for what I do. But I don't."

He was right right right. The tears grew even worse; his hug tightened to compensate for the spike. I thought about all of the times I had worried, the things that had troubled me only because I had invented the idea that they were a problem. Our first meeting here, the gifts, the stuff with Stacy, his offer.

Everything was lined up and sorted in my mind, a list of misdeeds that I felt like I should burn. "I want to help you thrive," he said. "I want to take care of you, but I also want you to grow, to become better."

This was not unlike torture, I suspected. Everything he said made me feel better and better—but instead of getting happier, I just cried more and more. My lips tasted salty from the spillage of tears taking place along my skin.

Jack straightened up at once. "I want to say something."

"Please don't say that." It was purely a gut reaction. I already knew what was going to happen—and I knew how dangerous it felt.

"Why?" he asked, his beautiful green eyes burning into mine.

"If you say it, I won't be able to say no to you." He was unfazed.

"I love you, Effie. I do. I have since the beginning." He kissed my forehead as I cried even more. "Shh. Just relax. Don't say anything."

Yeah, I was right. Now, I didn't know what to do about all of this.

"Don't answer me. Just think, Effie. Be calm. Relax." He whispered the words into my ear and my brain accepted them like gospel. Jack stood and disappeared for a second, my body feeling like my bones had vanished when he wasn't supporting me.

He returned with tissue that I used up immediately, discarding it in a small trash bin that he had brought as well and left on the floor beside me. Jack held me again, my mental and physical support system that I had tried to deny.

"My... my... my phone is busted," I said miserably. I wasn't sure why I announced it, but I did.

"What happened?" He perked up, ready to act.

"I dropped it right after Sam fired me. I haven't been able to text anyone and I can barely make calls." In my depressed state, it all felt so utterly hopeless. "I was running out of money when you paid for my apartment." I felt so small, so tiny and helpless—and with him, it was okay.

"I'll take care of it tomorrow. Let's just relax. Are you hungry?"

My stomach growled in response to his inquiry. "I guess," I said, downplaying my organ's very bold input.

"I'll make you some eggs."

I groaned. "That's all I've been eating. Eggs."

"Not like these. Just sit down and chill out. Stop worrying so much. I don't want to hear you talk again until you're saying 'Wow, Jack, these are the best eggs I've ever had in my life!'"

I started laughing uncontrollably, my emotions strapped in on this wild rollercoaster that had just gone down another steep hill and then turned upside down.

I didn't feel like I needed to say anything just yet. For once, I was just going to do what he told me to do and not be such a control freak.

He finished the food a few minutes later, bringing a huge pan of eggs out and setting them on the monstrous, empty table. Two plates were out a couple seconds later, and then I was taking my first bite.

"It's eggs with goat cheese and fresh roma tomatoes," he declared proudly.

I chewed and swallowed, marveling at how tasty they were. "You're so predictable at being too good," I said. It was so very true.

"So that means they are the best eggs you've ever had?"

I laughed again, the feeling so therapeutic. "You narcissist. I don't know if I should be honest."

After I said it, he took a very long, drawn out, exaggerated bite where he pretended to be overwhelmed by flavor. "Wow, I can't believe someone actually made something like this! It's incredible!"

I shook my head and continued eating, polishing off more food than he did. I was really surprised at how hungry sadness could make you.

Dinner behind us, he tidied up the enormous walnut dining table—if we had been a dozen people instead of two, the huge table still would have been adequate—and dumped the dishes in the kitchen. We ended up sitting on the couch near the window, the blinds open and the visuals of the city pouring into our eyes.

I was calm and relaxed for the first time in days, my emotions neutral, numb in a way. I was apathetic, just taking a break from the turmoil inside my body. Jack seemed to understand, our tacit agreement to just be exactly what I needed. The usual flourishes of desire were silent tonight—and he seemed to be okay with that as well.

We eventually moved to the bedroom, our bodies curling up until he was spooning with me. His arm around my waist, I fell asleep peacefully, ready to face the uncertainty of the next day.