I do seems like a bad decision.
Tanner: Heard you went on a date tonight. I’m happy for you, Liss.
I’m sure Aspen told him, now that I know they’ve been chatting about me. I wonder if he really cares about me dating. I know he’s been out with several women over the past year. I’ve heard him talking about it with Blake. I guess it could have been for my sake, to make me jealous for breaking up with him, but he didn’t always know I was in the next room listening. I know he moved on, which he should. But why can’t I?
Me: Aspen told you?
I toss the phone down into my lap and lie back against my pillow, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t want to be judged any more. Can’t anyone see how much I’m hurting? How hard this is for me? Why add to it with guilt? It’s not fair. In the midst of more self-pity, my phone buzzes. Please, just let it go.
I pick it up again.
Tanner: She mentioned something about it. I’m just glad to hear you found a distraction from everything.
A distraction. Is that all Hayes is? He’s definitely given me something else to focus on, but I’m not sure I can be distracted that easily. It’s not like I’m sleeping comfortably at night¸ knowing Blake is dead because of some careless mistake I must have made.
Me: I guess.
It feels uncomfortable and wrong talking about this with him. Not that I can find the right in going on a date so soon after Blake’s death. But I shouldn’t have to talk about it with Tanner.
Tanner: I want to swing by Aspen’s for a few. Just need to get something off my chest. Will you be there in twenty?
This is a bad idea. I still have to deal with Aspen…and now, Tanner too. I decide not to respond, hoping that will serve as an answer. But I know he’ll still be here in twenty minutes because I didn’t say no. That’s Tanner, one who never wavers from his plans. If he’s put his mind to it, it’s going to happen.
I pull myself up on the bed, feeling a haze of warmth from last night mixing with the frigid air of the morning dragging in through the old windows. I slip my sweatshirt on and grab a cigarette from my bag. I didn’t smoke last night; I was high on Hayes when I got home. But I can feel the panic rising faster than usual now. This is getting worse. I need to make a better effort to stop this. I’ll start after I smoke this one. I’ve always taken pride in not having an addictive personality. But the truth is, I’m now considering that you don’t know whether or not you have an addictive personality until you’ve become addicted to something.
I jog down the stairs and burst out into a cool spring morning. The wind has picked up and the clouds are low bearing, promising rain at some point today. I huddle in a corner against the building, lighting up. It only takes a couple of drags for my heart rate to slow and my hands to steady. It’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket. The heat presses through my veins. But the warmth disappears when a hand drops over my shoulder.
Aspen steps in front of me, “What are you doing?” She looks perplexed, and I know why. I’ve done an incredible job of hiding this little unknown fact about myself. I only started smoking last year when I got promoted to head chef—and broke up with Tanner. Between that and having a team working below me, I had so much anxiety and stress that I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Most of the other cooks at the restaurant smoke regularly. I didn’t get what’s so great about destroying your lungs, but they are all incredibly calm people. I was the exception.
One night, though, Grant told us a food critic from the Phantom Gourmet was coming in to evaluate a couple of our dishes. This was totally on me. The responsibility was overwhelming to the point where I had my first anxiety attack. I was sweating, shaking, and nearly in tears when Raul, my sous chef at the time, took me out back. He handed me a beautiful white stick and told me to take a few pulls. I hesitated at first. I’ve always been totally and utterly against smoking in any