Tuesday morning came, and she hadn't heard from Parker. As she sat at a light on her way to work, her phone buzzed.
Sorry, I got caught up with Kevin and wasn't able to text. Thanks again for a great weekend. I'd like to see you again, and not just at the lake.
Celia took a deep breath and realized just how anxious she'd been to hear from him. Wanting the text had been bad enough. Wanting it that much was worse. Now that it had come, relief washed through her, sharp and immediate, and she didn't like what that said about her.
This could go a couple of different ways. One, it's a one-off, and we never speak of it again. Two, he asks me out, and something starts to build. Or three, we realize that we're great fuck buddies, but that's about it.
Memories of the weekend replayed in her mind—the easy laughter, his amiable presence, the way he made her feel seen and appreciated, the way he comforted her. Yet beneath those pleasant recollections, a current of uncertainty lay waiting. She found the idea of letting someone in again, risking the comfort of her new life, unsettling. Parker had been sweet and attentive in ways that felt both thrilling and disconcerting. The anticipation of his text had left her anxious, and the amount of relief she felt when it finally arrived worried her.
I'm not sure I want to do this. It's gonna get weird if it doesn't work out. If it's just a one-night thing, we can still hang out and be friends.
The thought of risking her friendship with him or with the rest of her new friends was daunting.
If it was only one night, maybe they could laugh it off and stay friends. Maybe. But her feelings rarely stayed where she put them, and Celia had worked too hard for this new life to hand anyone the power to knock it sideways. The risks significantly outweighed the possibility of reward.
Celia said, "Siri, send text to Parker."
Siri replied, "Text to Parker, ready."
Hey, listen. The other night was great, but I'm not sure it's a smart thing to pursue. I don't wanna feel weird up at the lake, and I really like the lake. Let's just be happy with the night we had and stay friends. Can you do that? She paused, wondering if this was really what she wanted to do. Siri asked, "Do you want to send?"
Celia thought it through again. Parker had been so sweet. She could sense the intimacy of what that relationship could be, and to be honest, it scared her. She took in a deep breath and said, "Siri, send."
She pulled into the parking structure and headed for her favorite spot near the west elevator, the one that opened closest to her office. Usually, she got lucky. Today, every space near the elevator was taken.
Figures. Dump a sweet guy, and karma will find you.
She moved one row over, only to discover that there were no vacant spaces there either. She eventually ended up on the far side of the garage, opposite the elevator. Taking a quick picture of the column with the level and section number, she forged her way through the parked cars to the west elevator.
Her phone dinged.
Looking at the screen, she saw that Parker had replied. Um, okay. I understand. I'm disappointed, and I'm sorry it took me so long to respond, but I understand. I'll see you Saturday at the lake if you're coming. Cool.
She leaned against a pillar and sighed. Regret tightened her stomach. She shook her head.
Aw, was that a good choice? What the fuck? Shit, now what?
She texted back, It's not that you didn't respond; it's that I wanted you to so badly. I can't be that woman right now. I can't be waiting for someone to reach out and make my day.
She crossed to the elevator and hit the button. While she waited, she looked back across the garage, her decision about Parker gnawing at her.
For chrissake. He lives here. He's got a good job. His son is here, so he's not
going anywhere.
Then her attention was diverted. She saw a red truck idling behind a cement column on the far side of the garage. Thoughts of Parker and her impending screw-up flew from her head.
She couldn't see if anyone sat behind the wheel; she could just make out the right-front fender. Taking a tentative step in that direction, she heard the elevator doors ding as they opened. She backed into the elevator, eyeing the red truck. The doors closed. She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs, a shiver running up her spine.
That better not be Rod. Asshole.
When she reached her desk, she called building security.
"Yes, this is Celia Barlow up in CAPPS HR. Could you send a car to the fourth floor of the parking garage and see if there's a red pickup truck hanging around? I've been having an issue with a stalker, and I thought I saw him up there."
On the other end of the line, the security guard said, "Sure thing, ma'am. We have a car on that level now. I'll have him check it out and let you know." He hung up, and Celia felt a little better.
Better safe than hanging in a tanning shed.
With that taken care of, she shoved Rod and Parker out of her head and began her day.