And yes, I feel better about Cam now that I met his friend, but I still barely know him. I should keep my expectations low and make sure to give him ample opportunity to opt out of the date without feeling weird about it.
As I coach Betsy on getting the perfect sear on her shrimp, I mentally map out my plan of attack.
I’ll be cool, calm, and light-hearted. And if he says no, I’ll insist it’s no big deal, give him a friendly pat on the back, and go home to stuff myself with moo shu pork before eating an entire carton of Ben and Jerry’s in bed after Crissy’s asleep.
Sugar may not be as good as sex, but it still feels like love.
So does heroin, the doomsday voice in my head pipes up as I turn off the lights in the office. It’s the one that was so loud near the end of my time in San Francisco, the voice that warned I might never escape the legacy of my poor choices. That I was, in fact, an idiot who had ruined my life, and Crissy’s, and should not be allowed to make any choices, anymore, at all, ever.
If I continue to have freedom of choice, I’ll probably get hooked on heroin in my search for something to ease the single-parent loneliness and end up losing everything—my business, my future, and my daughter.
Visions of this hypothetical me—ravaged by addiction, toothless, shattered, and miserably alone forever without hope of recovering all that’s been lost—haunt me all the way down the stairs. By the time I step into the locker room, I’ve just about talked myself out of approaching Cam.
Better for things to stay the way they are than to get any worse.
Better to be alone in a way I can manage than to put myself out there, make myself vulnerable, and be devastated when romance lets me down, yet again. I barely survived my breakup with Phillip. Another nasty letdown in love could be the straw that sends the camel into a downward spiral that ends with selling its hump and a kidney on the black market to afford more smack.
And then I see Cam laughing with Aurora, the talented and gorgeous new pastry chef, by his locker, and something comes over me. Something bigger than jealousy or envy. Something that feels like a call to battle, a primal summons to woman up and show up in my life before fear robs me of the chance to be on the receiving end of that heart-stopping grin.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m across the room, leaning against the locker beside Cam’s, asking, “Hey, could we talk? I want to run something by you.”
He stands up straighter, dragging a hand through his now loose hair, newly freed from its work-hour ponytail and chef’s cap. “Sure thing.” He lifts a hand to Aurora, who’s already backing away. “See you tomorrow. And text me if you want more info on that watercolor class. I think Evie still has a few spots open.”
“Thanks, will do,” Aurora says before grinning my way. “See you, boss. Good day today.”
“It was a great day,” I agree. “And you’re killing it with those cream puffs. Keep it up, and I see a raise in your future.”
Her brown eyes light up in her perfectly symmetrical face. “Cool. That would be amazing.” She laughs. “Pierre never gave anyone a raise.”
“Things are going to be different now,” I assure her with a smile. “And we’ll be revamping the human resources side of things, too. I might have gone a little overboard with my no-fraternization policy.”
Her shoulders relax and relief floods her expression. “Oh my God, that would be amazing. Pete and I have been dating for months and not having any problems at work because of it, but we were afraid to tell you. He thought I’d get fired, since I haven’t been here as long as he has.”
I shake my head. “No, no one’s getting fired. And I’ll talk to everyone about the changes in policy tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“You, too,” she says, still beaming as she heads for the door.
I wait another moment, until the last stragglers call out their goodbyes and vacate the premises, before I turn my full attention back to Cam to find him watching me with a guarded expression.
Guarded, but hopeful, too…
Now, I just have to cross my fingers that he’s hopeful for the same reasons I am and take this leap.
After all, what’s the worst that can happen? He says no, and I have an excuse to gorge on ice cream? I can survive that.
I can, I know that, but it still feels like my stomach is full of coked-up hummingbirds as I pull in a breath and say, “My friend, Henri, has an extra ticket to the Feed the Forgotten fundraising gala on Friday night. It’s at the natural history museum, so there will be lots of dinosaur bones to enjoy, as well as champagne and appetizers and a silent auction. And it’s for a good cause, feeding—”