Of course, now I have to worry about my car and how much it’s going to cost to tow it and fix it.
“If we can get the tree out of the road tomorrow,” he says to me, “maybe we can make it to where we left your car and try to get it towed.”
I hesitate.
It’s embarrassing to admit I live paycheck to paycheck. My credit cards aren’t maxed out but they’re getting there. And my car is old.
“Yeah, I guess I have to deal with that now.”
“Your car?” Gemma looks confused.
I tell her about what happened, leaving out the part about thatbeing how West and I met. Instead, I make it sound like I called him, even though I don’t lie outright, and West doesn’t contradict me.
“If you need a loan,” Gemma says gently, “just ask. You can pay us back slowly. You need your car.”
“I do,” I admit, my face flushed with embarrassment.
“We’ll take care of it,” West interjects smoothly. “Don’t worry, angel.”
There is no way I’m letting him pay to get my car fixed, but it’s sweet that he offered.
Everything about West is sweet, which is a problem.
I’ve gotten used to having him around, which is hard to understand since I’ve been on my own a long time. The truth is, it seems like I can talk to him about anything and he doesn’t judge. He’s never said a word about my finances or my home or anything else, even though there’s no doubt I struggle with money. He listens when I tell stories about my childhood or my job, and it’s been so nice to have someone to talk to.
And I don’t know how I’m going to go back to the silence at night.
Once Joey’s in bed, I usually revel in having an hour or so to myself. Having spent the last two nights with West, it’s going to feel uncomfortably quiet.
We hang out with Rudy and Gemma until Joey starts falling asleep. We thank them for their hospitality, and then West picks Joey up and carries him as we make our way back to my place. I get him to bed without any stories tonight and by the time I come out, West has gotten the fire in the stove roaring and he’s on the couch doing something on his phone.
“Everything okay?” I ask, sinking down beside him.
“Yeah, just texting my coach, letting him know I may run out of phone battery if this goes on much longer and asking if he knows if we’re traveling the day after tomorrow.”
“Are you?” I ask carefully, hoping my disappointment isn’t too obvious.
“He doesn’t know yet. He says we’ll know tomorrow. Airport is operating at limited capacity so it depends on what happens. I guess a couple of the guys can’t get out of their neighborhoods, so we’ll see.”
“I promise you this isn’t a normal Georgia winter,” I say. ”It’s truly an anomaly.”
“My first winter in Georgia,” he says drolly. “I’m not impressed.”
“Well, before you know it it’ll be summer and the humidity will be thick and heavy and we’ll all be hoping for cooler weather.”
“You’re probably right. We always want what we don’t have.”
We’re quiet for a moment and then he holds out an arm, indicating he wants me to snuggle into his side. I hesitate because I shouldn’t be this comfortable or affectionate with him, but in the end I give in.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“Just thinking about my car and what I’m going to do once the storm is over.”
“Like I said at dinner, I’ll help you with the car.”
Because he feels sorry for me? Because we fooled around?
My insecurity is rearing its ugly head, and I can’t seem to stop it.