She shut the door without further response, and a slight smile played across my lips. Whatever she was going to say probably had to do with Caz, and I didn’t want her to go there. I was fine with Yoni bringing in her parade of flings, but Caz wasn’t here for her entertainment. She was here to help me, which would be a full-time gig.
Before I could let my fears run wild in my mind, my phone chimed with a message.
Caz: Hey. You want to grab dinner and get a jumpstart? My producer’s worried.
He wasn’t the only one who was. How could I face her after letting her down earlier? Not only that, I would probably do it again. I wasn’t any closer to overcoming my fears, and I had nothing to offer Caz. I was sinking the ship, and she was better off pushing me overboard. But I sure hope she didn’t, because I couldn’t swim.
Chapter 9Caz
Matrix seemed pissed that I didn’t get any video today, but what was I supposed to do? Make Shiloh uncomfortable to the point where she backed out of the entire thing? She was skittish. I knew skittish people had to be handled delicately. And with my ass on the line, I would play it safe.
Besides, I would still have material I could use for the show, especially once I got more background information from Shiloh. I could record myself talking about my findings and then throw some later footage in there. I wasn’t worried about that. My fear was more about what would happen if I couldn’t help Shiloh come out of her shell.
I had never been a flight attendant for someone before, which meant I had more to prove to my audience. They wanted to hear about a success story, and it was my job to give them that. But even more so, I wanted Shiloh to have that, too.
The day flew by, which was good, but I wasn’t done yet. I still had to have dinner with Shiloh, which wasn’t a hardship, but I was tired of being out. When I initially asked her, I had Matrix breathing down my neck. Now that things had settled a little, I regretted making plans that didn’t involve sweatpants and my bed.
This happened every time I scheduled something. The idea sounded appealing beforehand, but as the time drew nearer, I desperately tried to devise an exit strategy. Since it was work, it wasn’t as easy for me, but Shiloh seemed easygoing, and maybe she would roll with a more casual meeting.
As I left the studio, I pulled out my phone to give her a call. Surprisingly, she answered instead of doing what I would have done: send it to voicemail.
“Hello, this is Shiloh Wilbers, Meal Planner Extraordinaire for Sprout and Sprigs. How may I help you?”
Ah, of course, that was why she answered. A part of me wanted to play a trick on her, but since I didn’t know her well enough, I kept it more formal.
“Good evening, Shiloh. This is Caz. I was wondering if you’d be okay with a change of plans?”
“Hey. Sorry. When I’m at the store, all my calls are transferred to my work phone, so I didn’t see it was you.”
“No problem at all. So, you haven’t left for the day?” Maybe she would want to cancel altogether. That wouldn’t help me with Matrix, but I wouldn’t hate it.
“Nope, I was shutting my stuff down now. I was…” She stopped midsentence, and I checked my phone to see if I had lost her. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. But I’m flexible. What did you have in mind?”
I stopped myself from saying, “That’s what she said,” and focused on the fact that she often left a lot of things unsaid. Did she feel it wasn’t important, or was she embarrassed? Either way, I wished she would speak up and stop caring what other people thought. It was something we could work on, but I wouldn’t call her out now.
“Would you mind ordering in? I don’t know how much more of the outside world I can handle today.” That was more honest than I should have been, but maybe she felt the same way.
“That’s good with me. Talking might be easier when other people aren’t around anyway.” Her voice faded as she finished her sentence, and I wished she would command the attention and respect she deserved. Again, that was something to discuss in our meeting.
“All right. I’ll text you my address, and we can order when you get here. To give you a heads-up, I can’t stay in these thigh shackles all day, so it’s yoga pants for me. Feel free to change before coming—no need to be uncomfortable.”
“Oh, okay. I probably won’t change unless it will make you feel better if I do.” She was people-pleasing again, and if she kept this up, she would get taken advantage of.
“So, my feelings are more important than yours? Why?” I had tried the tough love approach earlier in her office, but it didn’t sink in. I needed to figure something else out before we went on the prowl.
She paused for a minute. “Um, I guess I don’t have strong feelings about it, so I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Just meet me at my place in whatever you want, and we’ll talk then.” I shook my head at how much she needed to learn about herself.
“Okay. See you soon.” She sounded nervous, but we would work on that, too.
I immediately texted the address as I walked home, but wondered if I had made a mistake inviting her to my sanctuary. With it being a studio, there weren’t any covert spots. Not that I had stuff to hide, but everything was out in the open—including my clothes. There were built-in shelving units that were supposed to be minimalist and sleek, but without closets, it left my life on display.
There was a reason I never invited anyone back to my apartment: I was too exposed. When Davia picked this place, I assumed it would be our home until we were ready for a change of pace. But when she left me with bad credit and a mountain of debt, I didn’t have many options.
I arrived well before Shiloh because I was only blocks away, and she had miles to go if she was just leaving work. As soon as I got inside, I removed my shoes and went to the bedroom area. It was offset from the rest of the space but still wide open. I changed into black stretchy pants and a shirt that said, “I Do Dumb Things for Cool Stories.” Matrix got it for me, and it always made me laugh.
After picking up the unwanted stuff lying around and shoving it in either the laundry hamper or the dishwasher, I felt better about what she would be walking into. From an outside perspective, she shouldn’t be able to tell what a mess my life was. Not that I wanted to keep things from her, but how would I be a credible source if she knew how hopeless I was?
As soon as I folded the blanket I had on the couch, I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down at the dining table. I had no more than a sip when my intercom rang, and I got up to buzz her in. As I waited, I wondered if I should have had a glass ready for her, too. But she was knocking before I could decide.
I opened the door, and Shiloh stood there, her hair mussed as if she had run her hands through it, which I had now associated as her style. She was holding a bottle of wine, and I smiled.
“This is for you.” She handed it to me, and I moved to let her in. “I like your shirt.” She chuckled, and I was glad it could break the ice.
“I’m glad it could make you smile. And thank you for the wine. I was going to offer you a glass because I already have some open.”
She walked inside, and instead of appraising the place like I had feared she would, she slid her shoes off and sat at the table. “I’m okay. Thank you. I might have a drink after I eat, but there is no way it would sit well on an empty stomach.”
I eyed her and chuckled. “I’m sorry, but you work around prepared meals all day. Why on earth haven’t you eaten?”
With a single swipe of her hand across her face, I sensed an energy shift as if a heaviness had washed over her.
“I was avoiding Yoni.” She didn’t elaborate, but there was more to the story.
Should I pry? Or give her the space to fill me in on her own time? I still struggled with how to handle her. So I put the wine in the fridge to buy me some time. When I turned back to the table, she sighed.
“It makes me feel immature, but being around her can sometimes be trying.” Her shoulders dropped, and relief seemed to wash over her after that confession.
