Page 7

7

SARAH

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling fan. Round and around until my heart rate comes back down. Some mornings I wake up in a panic. It’s sleep induced panic attacks brought on by my high functioning depression diagnosis. The freak-outs when I would wake up were easier to hide from Paul as we both agreed that living together before marriage would ruin us faster. But unfortunately, the occasional sleepovers caused them to flare up more often than not.

I’d like to say I’ve gotten better. I’ve been seeing a therapist for about a year after Kamryn suggested I see someone to deal with my deep failure of not getting Liam signed and my general failure of thinking I could make it in the sports world so early. Have I been told time and time again that it wasn’t my fault? Of course. But being told something and actually comprehending it are two different things. Still lying in bed, I do my best to focus on the whirring of the blades pushing air around my room while I slowly come back to my body.

My alarm clock blares, causing me to jolt, and I turn my head to the offensive noise before throwing my hand out and shutting it off. My attention goes back to my ceiling fan and like a true millennial, I’ve never turned it off so dust has been mysteriously collecting since I bought my house a year ago. That gets added to my never-ending list of things to do around my home. Dust your ceiling fan.

With the salary I get, it more than allowed me to afford a home so soon after I moved up here. I live right on the outskirts of Cincinnati in a converted three-bedroom brick townhome. The fourth bedroom was originally on the other side of my closet, so during the renovation, I had the contractors remove the wall to create a closet that Carrie Bradshaw could only dream of having when she lived in her tiny apartment. One of my weaknesses is shoes. Very expensive shoes. So with the expansion I made sure that my closet had a shoe wall. Most people tried to talk me out of converting the fourth room for the “resell” factor. As it stood that was not my issue and I figured that if I meet someone I plan to spend my life with, we’ll eventually move into a bigger house and I’ll get another large closet.

I turn my head again and check the time on the clock, realizing it’s past time for me to get up. It’s the fourth of July and it’s set to be a long day. All of my clients, apart from Nate, will be in attendance at the block party that occurs every year off of Ivy street. It’s a way for my clients to get seen and to be seen as normal people, despite the heavy bank accounts that set them apart. And a way to interact with owners of small businesses that keep the city alive.

Whipping off the covers, I roll out of bed and walk into my bathroom and turn on the shower. With a little help from my parents before Paul and I broke up, I was able to redo the bathroom to my liking. I wanted a space that was bright and airy, but also a touch of girly while incorporating my favorite color, dark blue. Okay, my favorite color is also red, but having that in my bathroom would not have worked with my red hair. So we settled for dark blue with pink accents and gold handles paired with a dark wood vanity and a white marble top counter. The flooring is also heated so that when the temperature is closer to my age, I’m only freezing my tits off.

I go through with my shower and proceed to get ready for the day. The last time I checked the weather it said it was in the high-90’s, so I wrap myself and my hair in a towel, then stroll into my walk-in closet. As I get further removed from my relationship with Paul, I find myself grateful that he never moved up here. I would have had to sacrifice my version of Carrie Bradshaw’s closet and that would have made me insufferable. And now when I think of letting any man into my space, I get the heebie jeebies from thinking about it. I love my space and I love what I’ve created here. But it would take a special man for me to change things around.

I find the wedges I want to wear today and riffle through my dress collection before settling on a white eyelet dress with a corset bodice, thin straps, and a flowing skirt that falls past my knees. Most redheads stay away from wearing white as it washes them out or their freckles spread like crazy. I’m the opposite. My hair gets lighter and I take on a light tan, oddly enough. So I love wearing white as it gives me a glow that I can fake when I’m less than glowing after a morning wake-up call like the one I had.

While blow drying my hair, I hear the distant chiming of my phone with what I know to be an incoming text. Retying the sash on my robe tighter, I shuffle back into my bedroom and sit on my unmade bed, snagging my phone off the charger in the process.

Riley: Reporting for duty.

Riley: *1 attached image*

I snort, very unladylike, as I see him in a full American flag outfit. My gaze snags on the way the shorts mold to his thick thighs and down to the very appealing thigh tattoos peaking out from the edges of his shorts to the rest of the ink covering his legs before I quickly close out of the picture and think of a response.

Me: Why are you texting me?

Really, Sarah? That’s the best you’ve got?

Riley: I wanted to show you that I’m ready for my first event.

Riley: Is this not the type of picture you want?

Riley: I can send you something else…

I’m about to respond No when another picture comes in. This time of two cats. Huh. I did not peg him as a cat dad.

Me: I’ll see you at 11.

Riley: Yes, ma’am

I can’t ignore the tingly sensation that rolled through my body at Riley calling me ma’am. You have to , I tell myself. Putting my phone on the nightstand again, I head back into my bathroom to finish getting ready. I pull my hair up in a high ponytail and curl the tail part of my hair. To accessorize, I add a star-patterned bow and some ruby earrings. I keep my makeup light with a tinted moisturizer and some mascara. I complete the look by slathering my arms and chest with sunscreen before sliding my dress and shoes on. Taking a look at myself in the floor length mirror I have set up in the corner of my room, I survey myself from all angles and deem myself ready to be surrounded by the public.

I thought I timed myself perfectly. But I’m running late. Again. I preach the importance to my clients on being early, but sometimes time slips away from me. Luckily I find a parking spot by Kamryn’s office and walk in the direction of the block party. Pulling out my phone I send a text to one of my usual hookups. The need to use someone to get my mind off of Riley is stronger than ever. And I think I know just who to text.

Me: Any chance you’re free tonight?

Eric: Anytime after 6, I’m all yours.

Me: Great. I’ll swing by after the block party.

I love sex. Admitting that out loud to those who only sleep with their significant other garners me a lot of odd looks. But I didn’t have to worry about satisfaction with my ex. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when boisterous crowds tumble out of the nearest bar. Excited chatter and patriotic colors end up walking towards the block party while my feet carry me to our agency’s booth.

Patriotic pride surrounds me. As much as I don’t love going overboard, I can admit that holiday’s bring the best of Cincy together. Give me a hotdog with ketchup and that’s about all my spirit can withstand.

“Sarah!” I hear my voice boomed from the right side of the closed-off street.

Turning my head, I see Mason and Jeff standing near each other. I maneuver my way towards them. My heeled wedges cushion my steps as my dress swishes around my knees with every step. I pop my sunglasses on top of my head when I get closer to our tent area.

“You still haven’t paid up for the baseball series,” Mason greets as soon as I’m in earshot.

“As soon as you lock down my best friend, I’ll pay up.” I respond and pop a chip from a bowl into my mouth. I stop mid-chew when I see the look on his face. “Shut up! You’re gonna propose soon? When?” I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming.

Mason surveys the crowd walking by our tent and I realize I should do the same. Two of my four clients are here. With Riley’s enthusiasm I figured he would be the first here.

“In the fall. She’s preparing for Nina to come out so that’s when I’ll do it,” he tells me.

Nina graduated the same year Kam and I did. I didn’t have any classes with her so I only knew of her. But Kam did, seeing as they were both Fashion majors. I don’t know all of what happens in Kam’s line of work, but if she’s working with Nina then that means they’re working on something incredible. I’m one of the few people from college Kamryn kept in contact with from our class. After Liam died, the majority of our group blamed her and that sent her on a downward spiral. She did her best to push me away but I had my hooks in her. Kam couldn’t get rid of me if she tried. Me taking the job up here to be near my bestie was also a factor.

“You’re hiding something. What else?”

“I’m hopefully surprising her with a house. I’ve been looking for a while but nothing has fit. So fingers crossed something pops up in the next few months.”

“I’m happy for you both,” my voice drips with sincerity.

“Thanks, Callahan. Anyway, I’m gonna get to mingling and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Later.” I wave him off and watch as the crowd swallows him whole as they welcome their former quarterback with open arms.

I see Jeff is engaged with his clients, so I pop my sunglasses back on and head out into the crowd. My senses pull me towards a candle booth with no other reason than I love the smell of them. I make a mental note to come back with my wallet and buy a few of the larger candles. My feet drag me further into the party. Music sounds from all around, friendly conversation takes place in large clusters, face painting stations are set up at every other booth, and I witness business collaborations happening right before my very eyes. This is what I love.

“Fancy running into you here,” a smooth voice that sends tingles down my spine greets me.

Riley.

“I was wondering where you were,” I muse, still not making eye contact with him, as I smile at a mom and her daughter painting butterflies on canvases.

I stiffen as our arms brush when he brings them up to cross them over his chest. “I knew you missed me,” he gloats.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s my job to know where my clients are.” I deadpan and resume walking through the crowded street. I know Adam’s restaurant is here with a booth, but I don’t bother stopping by as it’s Dylan’s birthday and they’re out celebrating as a little family.

“I got an apartment in the city,” Riley tells me when he catches up to me.

“Good for you? Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, boss lady, as you know I don’t live in this city, and you have me attending soooo many events here, I took the liberty to find a place to crash instead of driving home exhausted.”

Okay, his reasoning is more mature than what I would’ve guessed for someone his age. But I don’t tell him that as I feel Riley is the type to need constant reassurance in the form of an ego boost.

“Again, why are you telling me this?”

I noticed it’s gotten quieter the longer we walk. I slow down and turn to see we’re on the outer edge of the block party. Away from prying eyes.

“Because you, as my publicist, probably need the details on where I’m living,” Riley responds with a grin.

We both stop walking and I finally turn to face him. When we met, it was easy to be influenced by the lights and the alcohol at the club. And then again when it turned out he was my new client I was able to hold some power. But in this light, I can’t help to notice his inky, dark blue eyes that sparkle with excitement and how the sun highlights the golden strands in his dark blond hair. His leather and bergamot scent wafts towards me as a gust of wind blows through the street and it claims itself as my favorite scent. How he manages to tower over me, despite the inches these wedges give me. But Riley isn’t wielding any sort of power over me. It’s like he’s making sure I know I’m in control. It’s hot and something that I like that he’s giving me .

Stop that, Sarah.

“I really don’t. And anyways, you’re supposed to be mingling with fans and getting the sports world to love you.”

Riley props his hands on his waist and looks towards the crowd. Unease flashes across his angular face before he quickly turns the charm back to me. It’s a mask . He was so confident and assertive the night we met and I assumed by the reports that he was a wild child through and through. But now I’m seeing something different.

“I’d rather get to know you.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that, Jones. Now go mingle. I’ll see you before the day is done,” I tell him and give him a pointed stare before he stalks off.

I’d still like to think the reports on Riley are wrong. In fact, as I think over our last interaction, I know they’re wrong. But why? Why does he wear a mask? I stand corrected that he reminds me of Liam. They’re so similar it’s scary. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Liam to happen to Riley. Although based on Riley being in the NHL and Liam not making it to the MLB, they’re miles apart. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll prove me wrong and show me that the man I met all those months ago is the true Riley.

Later that night as I sit on my couch with a glass of wine and Grey’s Anatomy playing in the background, I try to think about why I couldn’t go through with sleeping with Eric tonight. He’s my go-to for a no strings attached hookup. But for the rest of the block party, Riley found effortless ways to always be in my line of sight. Everywhere I turned he was in my path. Maybe he did it on purpose? I can’t deny that seeing him in that patriotic getup was pleasing to the eyes. Most men would look ridiculous wearing something like that. But not Riley.

“Ugh,” I say aloud to a room of no one. Maybe I need one last time to get it out of my system. That has to be it. But how? I technically work for him. If I quit for at least twenty-four hours, that won’t really be wrong. Would it?

“Stop that,” I say out loud to myself. You’re not messing your future up for sex. No matter how good the sex with him was.

I just need all mind separation from him. Yeah. That’s it. Out of sight, out of mind.