A heavy sigh and then, “Yeah. Hi.”
“Hey… I… I’m glad you called.” I take a seat on the swivel chair in front of the desk. “I wasn’t sure if you would,” I admit, blowing out a nervous breath. Fuck, this is hard. “I need to see you.” She gives me nothing but more silence and my jaw clenches. I roll a pencil back and forth over the desk, waiting for her to respond.
“I don’t know… if that’s a good idea.” The uncertainty in her voice is stifling and I know I’m the cause of it, which only makes me more determined to remedy the situation. “Can’t we just talk now?”
“No. I want to do this in person. Please, Ember. Can we meet up?” My tone reeks of desperation, but I don’t really give a shit because that’s exactly how I feel. “I promise it won’t take long.”
A lingering pause and then a sigh. “Okay. Where do you want to meet?”
Relief and anticipation fill my lungs and I smile. “How about The Comfort Diner at East Forty-Fifth Street. Do you know it?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay.” I glance at the time on the desktop. “How about we meet at six? Would that work?”
She squeaks her response. “Tonight?”
I want to tell her I think I’ve waited long enough. But instead I reply with a firm “Yes.”
“Okay, I guess so.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” She hangs up without saying goodbye, but I try not to read into it too much. It’s been a whole lot of time without any explanation—and I have a lot of fucking explaining to do.
Chris shows up carrying a stack of computer equipment. “Hey, I’m all set d-downstairs. You want to head out and grab a bite to eat?” He stops when he sees my expression. I must be grinning like a fucking idiot. “She called.”
“She did.”
He throws the Cat5 cables, an old Buffalo file server, and a few SSD drives into a box. “So should I gather I’m going it alone for d-dinner?”
“You don’t have to. You could ask someone out.” I slide my laptop in the bag and pick up the last of my tools off the desk.
Chris leans against the wall of the cubicle, arms crossed over his chest. “I could, but I won’t.”
Setting my bag on the carpet, I turn to face him. “Why the fuck not?”
He answers me with a shrug, staring at the floor. “B-because, you know I get nervous, and then I end up stuttering more. What girl wants that?”
His words incite a riot in my chest. “The right girl. That’s who. You just have to find her. Now come on,” I smack his arm, “let’s get the hell out of here. Because I’m going to find mine.”
TAXIS SKID TO a screeching halt as shoes click against the pavement. The sharp whistle of trucks making deliveries, the shouts of street vendors trying to sell everything from portraits to purses. All of it fades into the background, overpowered by the thoughts swamping my brain. The concentration it takes to will my feet to keep moving—to remind myself to breathe.
Street signs indicate only two more blocks separate me from my past. My heart picks up speed and I tell it to slow down, but it’s a stupid heart and it doesn’t listen.
Troy’s words from our conversation last night stick in my head—‘give him a chance, love.’ His tone that always puts me at ease and then, ‘you know you want to.’ I wish the people close to me didn’t know me so well.
My thoughts find their way to Grant and his kindness, his quirky sense of humor—but he’s not Vance. While I know I shouldn’t be comparing, it seems that Vance has become my benchmark. And a ghost should never be a benchmark.
Except—he’s no longer a ghost.
My brain doesn’t stop until I’m standing outside the diner. I wring out my hands and exhale a few big breaths to try to calm my runaway nerves, but they won’t be deterred. A woman exits the diner and holds the door open when she seems me there, but I shake my head and back up against the wall of the building. I need another minute… or fifty.
This is absurd, I tell myself. Just because my heart wants something, doesn’t mean I have to listen to it. Fool me once, fool me twice, and all that. I’m going to hear what Vance has to say and then I’m going to leave and go on with my life. Easy.
With that last thought, I straighten my dress and smooth down my hair then head inside. I can do this. I can do this. I keep repeating this mantra in my head as I walk through the door. The jingle announces my presence and when Vance spots me, and our eyes meet across the room, all my confidence goes right out the window. Even the slightest curl of his lips from this distance make the flutters start up in my belly. My nerve endings practically melt as his gaze skates over me on the way to the table. Nonetheless, I keep my expression blank as I slip into the booth.
“Hi.”