“Nothing.”
“Wait. What?” She froze, the last of the trash in her hand, and stared down at Honey. “Repeat. You’re not making sense.”
Anger at herself and her inability to make sense, made Honey jump to her feet. “My stupid job. My real job, not the waitressing gig. I can’t tell him about it. He’s figured out parts of it, he wants to know all about it.”
“Tell him. If you love and trust him, tell him.” She sat in the spot Honey had vacated and watched her pace.
It took three laps of the living room, and one trip to the bathroom for Honey to sort her feelings out enough to talk. “That’s just it. I do love him. But I can’t say anything. I’d tell him if I could, but I can’t. I signed an agreement. If I tell him, I’ll lose my job. There is always the distant possibility that he isn’t who he says he is. What if he’s some sort of spy in a sleeper cell? An informant. If I share what I do, it could endanger a lot of people.” She poured out her unease and fear, expecting her friend to understand. To her dismay, Lacy laughed.
“Oh my gosh, girl.” Lacy gasped for breath. “He’s ex-military. He’s found his birth father here in town. He’s good and honorable. Trust him.”
“If only it were so easy.”
“Can you have him…what do you call it? Vetted? Can your boss check him out and give you permission to talk to him? I mean, I don’t really know what you do. I’ve put two and two together. It’s something with the military. He’s ex-military. Get permission to share with him.”
“I can’t.”
“You can try. Ask your boss. The worst he can do is say no. If he says no, you’re no worse off. If you explain the situation, he might say yes. Take the chance. Isn’t Ira worth it?” She picked up her mug. “Drink up girl. It’s your favorite soothing blend.”
Mug in hand, Honey continued pacing, pausing now and then to stare out the window at the street below. Lacy made sense. Sort of. Would it really harm anything if she asked to share her job with Ira?
It might get her fired if Cameron decided she couldn’t be trusted any longer.
But she could always find another job. Probably not one that paid as well as this one, but other jobs existed. She could go to work at the computer shop doing repairs. She had the skills and the education. Not as earth shattering or as important as hunting terrorists, but it could be fulfilling to help people out of difficulties with their computers.
Maybe she should just solve the issue by changing jobs.
No! She wouldn’t give up her career for a man. No woman should. Or, at least it should be by choice, not because she was forced to in order to keep a relationship going. That wouldn’t be fair. Nor would it be fair for a woman to ask a man to give up his life’s work.
Relationships were just too danged complicated.
“Think it over,” Lacy said and glanced at her phone. “Come on now. Get cleaned up. We’re meeting Candice for supper.”
“No, thanks.”
“Yes. We’re going. You need to get out of this apartment. Get your mind off Ira for a while. At least until you decide if you can approach your boss.”
“Fine. Give me twenty minutes. I haven’t showered in days.”
She roared through the quickest shower on record, snagged her wet hair into a high ponytail and dabbed on a dot of her favorite perfume. She refused to acknowledge that it was also Ira’s favorite. She slid into a black gauze skirt. A red and white sweater completed the comfortable outfit. She added her anklet of bells, and couple of bangles and with a last fortifying look in the mirror declared herself ready. Physically at least.
She could do this. She had friends to support her, to help her through. Sammy’s Steakhouse was blessedly quiet. There wasn’t a crowd to contend with. Nor were there many people she knew well to deal with. She was happy with the relative anonymity, although anonymity wasn’t a real thing in a small town. Still, she’d take what she could get, especially since they were seated in a central table, visible to most of the restaurant.
“I’m not really hungry,” she said as they were seated. Candice sat on Honey’s left, Lacy on her right. “Maybe I’ll just have an appy.”
“You should eat a real meal,” Candice said. “Broken hearts need proper fuel. Junk food is good for a day or two, but proper nutrition makes you feel better. The body can’t function on junk alone,” she said piously.
“I suppose so. Next you’re going to tell me to paste on a smile and think positive thoughts.”
“Isn’t that what you’d tell us?” Lacy asked. “Make the best of it. Find the good. Find your happy? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you nag me about positivity at least a few times.”
“And you told me faking a smile, or trying your best to smile, can actually help break a bad mood. I think of it as fake it until you make it,” Candice reminded her.
“I suppose, it can’t hurt to try.” It was nice to have friends who supported her and wanted the best for her. Even if they parroted her own advice back to her. To her surprise, she actually did smile and it made her feel better. “Maybe I’ll try and eat something.” She picked up her menu to check out the options.
Steak and lobster. Grilled rib-eye. The fish platter sounded lovely. Stuffed baked potatoes. The special was a hearty seafood soup and salad. So many delicious options. Her stomach growled.
Lacy laughed. “Thought you weren’t hungry.”