Wherever the Dandelion Falls (12 page)

I snuggled into her side and kissed her sweaty shoulder, watching her chest rise and fall, naked before me.

"I liked that," I said. "You're a great date."

She sniffed and said nothing for a minute, which didn't bother me. She was probably tired. I felt like she'd exerted twice as much energy as I had. There was something animalistic about the way she approached sex.

But then she sniffed again and rolled out from under me. "I gotta go.”

Falling into the spot in the sheets where she'd been, I felt something drop in my chest.

"You can stay if you want. I make good pancakes," I offered.

She stood from the bed, reaching for her bra and shirt. "I have stuff I have to do," she mumbled.

I frowned. There was no way she had stuff to do at three in the morning.

She must have sensed my disappointment, because as soon as she had her top on, she turned and pecked me on the cheek. “I'll call you soon, okay?"

I nodded without smiling and watched as she put on her pants, then collected her purse and keys. She gave me a strained smile as she left, closing my bedroom door behind her before letting herself out of the apartment.

I slunk out of the hotel and took the bus back home. I hadn't felt so used or humiliated in years. I could only imagine what Vance would tell my boss. He had seemed like a gentleman, but apparently I was a terrible judge of character.

I hoped Justine would be gone for the day, grocery shopping or flea marketing, but I had no such luck. I tried to be quiet as I closed the front door, but no sooner had it shut, Justine's voice sprang from the other room.

"Riley Montgomery, you little minx, get your ass in here and tell me about your night!"

I had made it almost all the way to the bathroom before she appeared in her doorway.

"Riley?" she asked, seeming to realize something was wrong.

Without making eye contact, I dropped my purse on the floor and said, "I don't want to talk about it." Then I shut myself in the bathroom and took a long shower, trying to scrub the awfulness off me. I didn't feel dirty, but I didn't want any reminders of Vance on me. Afterwards I sealed myself in my room and burrowed deep into my bed, hoping it would swallow me up.

That's when the tears came. They leaked down the creases of my eyes into the pillow, puddling and refusing to dry.

I was relieved Justine let me be. I lay in bed long enough for the light to shift to where it shone in a narrow strip right onto my face, almost blinding me as my tears magnified the light.

A soft knock sounded. When I didn't respond, Justine knocked again. When I still didn't respond, she said softly, "Can I come in?"

"Okay," I mumbled, wiping my face. I knew she would be able to see I was crying, but I didn't want to look too awful.

She walked in, footsteps cautious and slow as something rattled in her hand. I could see in my closet mirror she was holding a plate and a steaming mug with a spoon sticking out of it.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said in an unusually gentle voice. She put the dishes on my desk and sat at the foot of my bed. After a long moment of silence, she put her hand on my feet and asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. "I'm just stupid."

She frowned, unaccustomed to hearing me talk so negatively about myself.

"Did Vance do anything you didn't want him to?" she asked, her voice tinged with protectiveness.

I shook my head, feeling like my brain was rattling in my head from crying. She was asking if I'd been coerced or raped, which I hadn't. I'd consented to everything. And yet I still felt like something had been taken from me.

Justine let out a small sigh of relief. There was a long moment of silence as she looked around the room, not wanting to leave me alone, but not knowing what to say given my unresponsiveness. So I caved.

"When I woke up this morning, he and his suitcase were gone," I said.

Her face fell in a look of dramatic sympathy. "Oh, honey..." she said.

I bit my lip as I felt it start to tremble. Then, feeling too many tears pushing forward to be held back, I covered my face with the edge of the comforter and cried.

"I shouldn't have thrown myself at him like that," I blubbered, shoulders jerking as I started to sob.

"Riley...," Justine cooed. "You didn't do anything wrong. He's the asshole for not seeing you're worth having breakfast with. Don't let him make you feel bad."

I scrunched the comforter over my eyes to absorb the heat that was spreading through my face.

"It was too soon!" I insisted. "I might as well have suggested baby names or honeymoon locations."

"He wanted to sleep with you too, babe," she assured. "If he's not man enough to face you afterwards, fuck him."

"I
did
fuck him," I cringed, wanting to laugh, but coming up short.

Justine patted my feet and said, "Was it good?"

I let out a gasp of hopeless frustration. "That's not the point."

Feeling too overwhelmed and upset to continue talking about Vance, my thoughts drifted to my first boyfriend Damon and how we'd spent our weekend mornings. Thinking about that made me remember how something had always been a little empty in my chest since.

Crushing loneliness creeped up my chest into my face and I shuddered, trying to stave off more sobs. But it didn't work.

"I feel like I'll never be loved again," I squeaked, letting another wave of crying rattle through me.

"Riley," Justine said, lowering the pitch of her voice. She paused, squeezing my leg through my blankets. "Look at me."

She waited until I pulled the covers down far enough for her to see me.

"You're crazy," she said. "And I mean that in the best possible way. You're crazy because you don't see everything you have to offer."

I rolled my eyes, unable to believe I was sexy. Vance had seen me at my sexiest and decided to pass.

Justine gave my leg an extra squeeze. "Someday someone wonderful will be overwhelmed by how much you love them."

My throat was too tight to say anything in response, so I sniffed, feeling my limbs relax from the seizing of my sobs. I let out a shaky exhale, grateful for Justine and how much she believed in me. I lifted my arm, gesturing that I wanted her to hug me. She smiled and leaned down, placing her head on my shoulder, rubbing one of my arms.

"Thank you," I squeaked.

I felt Justine smile against my shoulder and she said, "Anytime." Then, sitting up, she said, "Want to go out for dinner tonight?"

I gave her a fatigued smile and was about to decline, saying I'd rather stay in, when my phone rang. She walked over to my purse and fished it out. A brief, smug smile crossed her face before she handed me the phone.

"Shit," I muttered, feeling shame course through me again at the sight of Faye's name. I put the phone down on the bed, wanting to avoid the call. I didn't want to face Faye after our run-in the night before.

Justine pointed a finger at me. "Answer that or I'm using the itchy soap in your laundry for the next month."

I pouted at Justine and she raised her eyebrows in warning.

Sighing, I slid the call open. “Hi, Faye."

Justine mouthed
Good girl
as she stood and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hey!" Faye chirped. "I was just calling to see if you were still up for hanging out."

I was relieved that Faye seemed to have recovered from her cattiness. I was too tired to play games. I must have sounded like I'd been crying when I said, "Sure."

There was a pause and Faye said, with sudden concern, "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Faye said, cautious like she wasn't buying it. "We can reschedule."

"Um..." I looked around the room, wondering if there was any way to tell her I was tired and ashamed and would have been content to stay home for the next month. But I had already blown her off twice, so I said, "Yeah, we can hang out. Something low-key?"

"Sure," she said. "Tacos and beer?"

I felt myself warm with relief. Tacos and beer sounded like exactly what I needed. Nothing fancy. Just something good to eat and something to take the edge off. "Perfect," I said.

A few hours later I had enlisted Justine's help in making myself presentable. She smiled and reminded me that our code word was
cupcake
if I needed her to
call with a "crisis" and get me out of an uncomfortable situation. I gave her a long hug before I left, steeling myself to be kind and apologetic to Faye.

Faye was cheerful and chatty when we met up. She talked about the run she'd gone on that morning, and an interesting article she'd read in the New York Times. I tried not to drag her down with my gloominess. But I guess I wasn't as successful as I'd hoped.

"You seem a little down," she said, tilting her head with a pout as our waiter placed two beers on the table.

I was embarrassed that I was still letting Vance affect me.

I gave a fatigued shrug. "I didn't have the best night last night," I said, trying to be vague.

Faye gave a nod of understanding, then looked down at the table for a moment. "I know what you mean." She raised her eyebrows as she lifted her beer to her lips, then set it down and looked around the restaurant.

My mind flashed back to the leggy blonde woman Faye had been with at Rose Pistola. Had the same thing that had happened to me happened to Faye? Had we both had disappointing dates?

“I'm sorry," I said.

Faye echoed the same shrug I'd given a moment earlier. “Onward and upward, right?”

I nodded, changing the subject to the latest documentary I'd watched with Justine.

By the time we walked out of the restaurant, I was noticeably more relaxed, and not just from the beer. Being around Faye and her confidence, receiving her undivided attention, made me feel smoothed out from all the crumpling Vance had done.

Faye was that she was unapologetic for liking what she liked. There was little she was ashamed of. I was desperate to know her secret. Maybe if I spent more time with her, I'd be like that. Maybe I wouldn't be so shy around Dr. Turner.

I started to deflate at the thought of Dr. Turner. Had Vance told him anything? The thought of bringing messy sexual gossip into my lustless, analytical workplace made me want to call in sick forever.

My deflation must have been noticeable, because Faye turned to me with a concerned expression.

"You okay?"

I sighed. She had been making an effort to cheer me up all night and I felt I owed her a vague explanation.

"I'm dreading going to work tomorrow."

"More than usual?"

"Yeah."

There was silence for a moment as our footsteps sounded on the pavement.

"Why?" she asked, cautious.

"I did something dumb and I'm afraid my boss will find out.”

Faye's steps seemed to slow and her face remained expressionless. Then she took a breath and paused before saying, "Riley, I need to tell you something about that article I wrote about you."

I tensed. The article had seemed neutral enough. She used my quotes in proper context and explained my job fairly. Had I missed something?

"Do you know why you were picked to be interviewed?"

I shook my head.

"A while ago Dr. Turner's company went through a sexual harassment lawsuit. A PR consultant advised him to have one of his female employees interviewed for my column, which led to you."

I was stunned. I didn't want to believe what Faye was saying.

When I had arrived at Turner Research Institute the year before, there had been one other female employee, Katie, the receptionist I'd had to fill in for. A few months ago, she had disappeared without explanation. I tried to think of other reasons for her disappearance. Maybe she'd fallen in love and moved across the country. Maybe she'd won the lottery. Maybe she'd just wanted something less boring.

But then I thought about all the little things about Dr. Turner I had forgiven because he was smart and handsome and successful. As they started adding up — the inappropriate touches, the demotion to phones, the request to date his nephew — I felt myself sinking further.