We can cancel and you can come up and spend some time with us here.”
“No. No.” Jessica realized she had answered way too fast, and she forced herself to slow herself down. “I’m fine. Really, I am. Just busy with work.”
“Jessica, honey, you left Charlotte to go to school. You have a master’s degree in exercise physiology. I don’t understand what on earth you are doing waitressing at a bar.”
And here it comes. This was precisely why Jessica had left Charlotte as soon as she turned eighteen.
Her parents were great—good, hardworking Southerners. They were like a slightly pretentious, judgmental Ozzie and Harriet, just far too concerned as to what their social group thought about things. Everything was always done by the book. The plan was that she would graduate, return to Charlotte, work as a physical therapist, meet a nice young man—the kind who wore suits and played tennis or golf—and have 2.5 children and a dog and a cat, at which point Jessica would stop working to raise the children in a house a block from her parents. How perfectly suburban.
Instead, she’d met Dennis.
At first her parents were unhappy with the idea that their wonderful daughter would deviate from the plan by following a man to a different state—so unhappy that they stopped paying any of her expenses. But she was too proud to let that stop her, and anyway it had been time for her to venture out on her own. She was an adult, with a brand spanking new master’s degree. It was just the kick in the ass she’d needed to get out from underneath her parents’ thumb. Determined to make it on her own, she immediately found a job at the Pier as a waitress until she could find a job in her field. But apparently a master’s degree in exercise physiology wasn’t in demand. Two years later, Dennis was gone and she was still pushing drinks at the Pier.
“Jessica? You still there?”
“Oh, sorry, Mom. Um…what were you saying?”
“I said that if you’re sure you’re okay, we’ll go on our trip—we were planning to leave in two days. We’ll call you when we can.”
“No need to worry. Have a wonderful trip, Mom. Say hello to Daddy for me.”
“Honey, think about what I said earlier. Dennis was a lovely young man. Whatever the reason for the breakup, get over it. He’s exactly what you need. He always fit in so well with us.”
“You don’t really know him, Mom.”
“What’s there to know? He’s terribly handsome and rich, went to the best schools, and is getting up in the political world.”
“Yeah, Mom. Great guy.”
“Think about it. Smooches.” And just like that, she hung up.
An instant later, the phone rang again.
“I said I’m fine. I’ll think about Dennis,” she said into the phone.
“Excuse me?” a low, familiar voice said.
“Crap. Slade?”
“Why are you thinking about Dennis?”
“Sorry, Slay. Thought it was my overly controlling, overly involved mother. She thinks that Dennis personally hangs the moon at night. She wants us to get back together.”
“You should’ve told her what he did to you.”
“I can’t, Slade. You don’t understand my parents. They’re…they’re not like the people in this town.”
There was silence for a moment before he spoke again. “And how exactly are the people in this town?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. That sounded bad. I love the people here—that’s why I want to stay. My parents are great, but they live in their little social bubble. They don’t understand things like their daughter working in a bar. Or their daughter being hit by a man. And my daddy has a lot of connections; he’d want to investigate things further, not to mention force me to move back. They’re very controlling, Slade. They mean well, but it’s too much—I don’t need them to butt into my life right now.” Jessica took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m sorry that I bombarded you with all my problems.”
“Don’t be sorry about that, Jess. I want you to count on me. I want to hear about your problems. I want to be in your life. All in, remember? I just called to see if you were working today.”
“Yep. I’m running late, actually.”
“Do you want to do something later?”
“I’d love that.”
“How about I pick you up from work at—”
“Seven. I’m off at seven.”
“It’s a date.”
“It’s a date,” she repeated his words with a smile.
“And Jessica…”
“Yeah?”
His voice was lower than usual. “I can still taste you on my lips. I can’t wait to taste you again. It’s