“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Black-tie,” I remind Eddie, pointing an accusing finger at him.
The black-tie dress code was my idea. But fuck it. I love having an excuse to dress up. Not to mention, I look fine as hell rocking a tux.
“I’ll send you the bill for that too.”
The small café below Eddie’s office is my typical stop on a Wednesday morning. After our sessions, I’m always drained. I grab my usual black coffee with two sugars and continue the short walk back to my apartment complex.
The late November chill hits me as soon as I walk outside, so I pull my beanie lower to cover my ears. The streets of downtown Chicago are bustling with bodies, needing to get from point A to point B, and thankfully, with the combination of keeping my head down and them being too busy to notice, I go unrecognized.
Turning the corner two blocks from my place, I stop in my tracks, causing the traffic of people to have to move around my body as I take up plenty of space on the sidewalk.
And I’m rooted in place because just ahead, there’s a head full of chestnut curls, though today they’re thrown in a bun with a yellow bandana wrapped around them. Stevie is sitting on the chilly cement curb, knees to her chest and head in her hands.
The amount of space that girl has been occupying in my head lately is a bit concerning. What I thought was going to be a one-night stand has turned into me endlessly hoping for a repeat round, but over the last few weeks and the few short road trips we’ve had since I saw her on delayed Halloween, Stevie has kept her distance.
It’s annoying.
Even from a block away, I can see her back slightly vibrate before she looks up and frantically wipes her cheek.
No, no, no. I don’t do crying. Correction—I don’t do chicks crying. Especially ones that I’ve been with before. Comforting adds to the intimacy factor I’d like to stay away from, but apparently, no one told my feet that because without realizing it, they’ve carried me right to the sad flight attendant sitting on the curb.
Stevie’s head is buried back in her arms, not knowing I’m standing next to her as I eye the ground in contemplation. My pants cost more than some people’s weekly salary, but here I am, sitting my ass on a disgusting curb in the middle of disgusting downtown Chicago.
“You following me?” Nudging my shoulder into hers, I hope the humor will dissipate whatever the hell is going on right now.
It doesn’t.
Stevie looks up from her folded arms, her blue-green eyes rimmed in red. Her freckled nose is swollen and pink, and the sadness she’s wearing couldn’t be more obvious.
“Oh God.” She turns away from me, using the sleeve of her oversized flannel to wipe her nose and cheeks. “You should go. I don’t need you to see this.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yep.” She inhales a deep breath, trying to compose herself, her face still turned from me. “Totally fine.”
“Well, thank God. Because how embarrassing would that be for you if I caught you crying on a curb.”
Bringing my coffee to my lips, I hide my smile as she turns back to look at me, the two of us sharing a laugh. And her laugh sounds nice. A lot better than the sniffling she was trying to hide.
This time it’s my knee nudging into hers. “What’s going on?”
She readjusts the tiny gold hoop in her nose that got messed up when wiping it on her shirt sleeve. “A dog died.”
“Your dog?” My heart drops a bit for her.
“No.” She shakes her head, throwing a thumb over her shoulder.
Craning my neck around and upward, I read the sign on the run-down building behind us. SDOC—Senior Dogs of Chicago.
“I volunteer here, and one of our dogs died. He was twelve, and it was time, but it makes me sad that he was here and not at home with someone who loved him.”
Oh, fuck. This isn’t good. Stevie’s nickname is ironic because she’s never shown a sweet side to her. Not once. And now, sitting on this curb, she decides to tell me she’s actually a total sweetheart? I don’t know if I’m ready for that to be true.
“Well, did you love him?”
“Of course. But it’s not the same. He deserved his own home with a warm bed and an owner who loved him. They just want someone to love unconditionally, but instead, they’re stuck here.”
Unconditional love. What’s going on with the universe today that those two words are being thrown my way twice before noon?
“Have you ever been in love?” Stevie’s eyes are wide and curious, her question completely sincere.