"Wow, Grant! That was an earful."
"Sorry. I'm really upset. I've never been in love before, but I know I am now because it feels like my heart's falling to pieces. He was crying!" The very thought made me feel like crying too. "Jessica?" I whined.
"Okay, give me a second. You say you left in the middle of the night?"
"Yes. Mel was really upset."
"Tristan's jealous," she stated.
"No, he's pissed because I didn't tell him. He woke up alone this morning and-"
"You didn't tell him? That was dumb."
"I know that now."
"Grant, you left in your underwear, I remember you said that. You leave without saying good-bye or telling him why. You show up the next day wearing Mel's clothes. Why wouldn't Tristan be jealous? You just blew him off to hang out with another guy."
Tristan had been jealous before, but I was sure he'd gotten over it after our talk. I rationalized, "But he's my best friend."
"And Tristan is your husband," she reasoned. "Priorities change when you get married, Grant. Whatever you did when you were single is trumped by what you should do now. If you're treating Tristan like he's in second place, then he's got every right to be jealous."
"But he knows I don't feel the same about Mel."
"Really? You just left in the middle of the night, Grant. Not many people do that for a friend unless they have feelings for the other person. If you do love Tristan, then you need to show him he takes first place in your priorities as well as in your heart. Have you moved your crap into his house yet?"
"No."
"Then do it. Forget about the dirt and the dust and the zillions of wolf spiders."
"You had to mention the wolf spiders," I mumbled as a shiver ran down my back.
"Forget all the reasons that keep you in that rental house. Tomorrow, while he's at work, you move into Tristan's house and tell your landlord you're done. When is your lease up?"
"At the end of the week. It's month to month since my mom knows the landlord."
"Good. Get out. Keeping that other house only makes it easier to leave him."
"I don't want to leave him!"
"Does he know that?" she asked firmly.
I had to consider that question and mull it over. Did he? I certainly hadn't given him solid reasons to.
"Another thing … and don't get mad."
"What?"
"You need to tell Mel he's got to find other friends to cry to. I know he's your best friend, but it doesn't seem logical or practical to depend on you when you live-what, fifty miles away? You can't be his only friend."
"I'm not. I don't think I am." Now that she questioned it, I wasn't completely sure. But her argument made sense. Mel needed a friend like I had in Jessica. Someone local. The realization was like hot pokers jabbing me in the chest, but I had to consider whom I should spend my time with from now on. Moving to Westminster had put distance between Mel and me. When we had worked together and had spoken regularly on the phone after work, our conversations had lasted hours and came practically every day. After moving, we hadn't seen each for a long time, and the calls came less frequently. This last week I might have spoken to him twice.
Come to think of it, I hadn't called or texted my mother in a long time either. When was the last time? It had to have been at least a week. I couldn't remember. I'd met Tristan, and other things had stopped, other people had become less important.
"Grant?" Jessica called to me. "Are you still there?"
"Um, yeah," I answered hazily. "You're right. Everything you said. I think I've been fighting to keep my life the same after I moved here, and I just realized it's not. I have a different life now, and I have to put Tristan first."
"That's what I said."
"I know. You're right. Thank you." I looked at the ring on my finger. Tristan had said it was a ring a princess would wear as a gift from a prince. Tristan was my prince, but here I'd gone and done things that might make him feel unneeded and useless. I had to show him he mattered to me. "Will you work for me tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you. I need to move my stuff to Tristan's."
"Good for you." I could hear her smiling over the phone.
I HAD hoped he'd call, but he didn't. I had hoped he'd sneak into my bedroom in the middle of the night, but he hadn't. I touched the cold pillow next to me as I sat up in bed. I woke up alone, just as I'd fallen asleep, and I felt miserable.
True, we weren't broken up, it was only an argument, but the reasons for it went deeper than the superficial reason, and I knew I needed to change or the separation and loneliness could become permanent.
After calling work to let them know I wasn't feeling well and I'd gotten Jessica to work for me, I set to packing up my stuff. I didn't have empty boxes, and I owned one suitcase. I packed as many of my dress shirts in it as I could and then shoved everything else into garbage bags. I got a queasy niggle in my stomach with every article of clothing I crammed into a vanilla-scented garbage bag, but I reminded myself I could get them dry-cleaned. I could wash every stitch of clothing I packed if they smelled like plastic or vanilla when I took them out.
I packed up my sheets, even though my bed was smaller, my extra blankets, my seven pairs of shoes, my two fuzzy blankets, my afghan, and what remained of my dishes. Some of my stuff sat on the backseat, because I wasn't about to fill an entire plastic bag with one pillow. I crammed everything into my car until I couldn't see out the windows and then walked around the inside of the house to take inventory of what was left for a second trip.
"Wow," I marveled. "I don't own that much. I often tell people I don't, but it's really true."
The bedroom was empty. I even took the paint sample papers off the wall and the soap out of the bathtub. I closed the door. The only items remaining were the empty vases from the flowers, my coffee pot, and whatever was left in my fridge.
My challenge now was getting to his house, parking, and unloading without Tristan noticing. I took the long route to his house, coming to it from the other end of the street. I parked on the opposite side of the house from his shop. Making multiple trips from my car into the house through the front door without being seen would be a challenge, but I thought I would try. It wasn't like moving in would make him angry or anything, but I wanted it to be a surprise. A gesture of goodwill that I hoped would make him happy.
Before unloading my car, I had to make sure there was a place to put my stuff, so I snuck into the house and headed to the bedroom. We had cleaned out some things, but not enough. I stepped into the room and sucked in a breath when I glimpsed the bare walls. Tristan had removed those terrible ship pictures. I had been trying to remain calm, cool, and collected, but his effort to make me happy in that small way, even while he was upset with me, made my emotions surge. I wanted to cry happy tears, but I knew I needed to concentrate. Crying would slow me down. I needed to get this move-in done in a hurry.
I rearranged two of his dresser drawers so I had room for my socks and underwear, and made room in his closet. He only had a few coats hanging in there, so I thought I would relocate them after I'd hung up my stuff. I needed the bedroom closet for my work clothes. Once space was made for me, I slipped out the door and brought in my suitcase first. I wanted my shirts hung up before they wrinkled too badly. On the second trip, I brought my garbage bag of dress pants and hung them up.
I'd just grabbed my bag of shoes and shut the trunk when I heard a noise behind me. I turned and nearly jumped out of my skin. "Wes! What are you doing? You nearly scared me to death."
He shrugged. "Sorry. I saw your car, so I wanted to come and say hi."
"How? The office window faces the other direction, and isn't the house in the way? How could you see?" I refused to think I wasn't as stealthy as I'd planned.
"I came out back to feed the cat."
"Cat?" I hated cats. No, actually, I didn't hate them. That was unfair. I was allergic to cats, so therefore I generally stayed away from them.
"Yeah. There's a black-and-white cat that hangs around the shop. I started feeding her a few months ago, and when she kept coming back I named her Oreo. I went out back to feed her just now, and I saw your car."
"Oh. How's Tristan?" I had to ask, even if it wasn't related to the cat.