Naïve.
I don’t regret the decision to move, but I do miss the cheap copays and low stress pharmacy runs where I didn’t feel like breaking down as I slid my card through the machine after the pharmacist read me my total.
My cell phone starts vibrating in the cup holder I tossed it in to charge, startling me out of my thoughts. After taking all my medication and putting away my things, I smile when I pick it up and see my best friend’s name on the screen.
“Mrs. Moffie,” I greet my newly married friend, instantly feeling my chest lighten the second I hear her featherlight laugh.
“Miss. Rylee,” is what I get back. “It’s so good to hear your voice. Is everything okay? You didn’t answer my call this morning and I know you better than to give me a one-word reply. I had to make sure you weren’t murdered or something.”
I snort over her theatrics. It could be all the true crime shows we watched together growing up that always leads her to that conclusion. One time when an ex of mine had stayed the night, she blew up my phone and employed others to do the same when she hadn’t heard from me the next morning. My ex-boyfriend and I had slept in, but Moffie was sure I’d been killed when my phone—which I’d put on silent and left in the living room—had rang without me picking up. I’ve learned to always check in now before she calls the local police to do a wellness check. Or worse. My parents. The last thing I need is for my family to find out I’m seeing someone because my friends barrage them with worried texts and phone calls about a man they didn’t even know I was seeing.
Shoulders dropping slightly, I settle into the seat and rest my head back. “I’m fine. I had to finish packing my things this morning and ended up leaving before I could see anyone I talked to in the building. It was too bittersweet.”
There weren’t very many tenants I enjoyed chatting with at my old complex. Most of them were loud, or had loud pets that annoyed me, and others were too nosey for my liking. But there was a little old man who always walked his beagle that reminded me of Grandpa Al. We’d never exchange many conversations but being able to ask how he was when we pass each other, or ask how his dog, Bruiser, was doing, made me feel like I was that much closer to the man I missed dearly.
Moffie Mae, her God-given name that made me instantly love her, releases a tiny sigh that makes me frown. “I wish we had the room for you here, Ry. You know I’d offer you a couch if we had one but—”
“None of that.” She and Eli have only been married a few months, and I wouldn’t accept their offer to bum on their couch even if they had the room in the home they just purchased in our hometown of Liberty. No offense to them, but it’s one thing to hear a recap of their rabbit-like intimacy from my best friend, I don’t need to hear it firsthand. “I’ll figure something out. There’s always a story to crack around here, which means I’ll never go out of work. It’s job security. Don’t worry about me.”
The pregnant pause makes me squirm because I know she’ll suggest what she has every time we talk about my situation. “You could always go back to your—”
“No.”
“Rylee…”
“I love my parents, Moff. You know I do. But I’m meant to be in California, not New York. They don’t understand that, and they never will.”
“They want what’s best for you.”
Sighing, I nod in agreement even though she can’t see me. “I know, and I love them all the more for it. But I’d rather not worry them with my business. If they find out I lost the apartment, they’ll send me money for a ticket and tell me to come home. It’ll break my heart to tell them no.”
The glorious thing about my friend is that she knows when to stop pushing. “Fine. If there’s anybody who can make things work, it’s you.”
I’ve never done well with compliments and feel my cheeks heat with telltale signs of embarrassment over her sweet encouragement.
She continues to say, “You could always do what Birdie told us. Remember what she said right before we graduated high school about finding a wealthy man and marrying for money?”
We both laugh over the fond memory of my grandmother. She was a firecracker—always witty and fast on her feet. Mom hated that piece of advice, but always chuckled whenever her mother would give it because she knows nobody ever took it to heart.
But… “It’s not an awful idea,” I surmise.
I swear I hear crickets.
Then, “You’re kidding, right?”
More crickets.
“Rylee!” I get scolded. “The last thing you need in your life is some old, wrinkly man to take care of all for some money.”
My nose scrunches at the thought. “Who says he has to be old and wrinkly? It isn’t like Grandma Birdie suggested we marry someone on the verge of death who’d need sponge baths every day because they can’t take care of themselves.”
“Get real, Ry. Just because you live where all the hot celebrities are doesn’t mean you’re going to find some young thing to marry.”
One of my brows quirks. “Oh, really? How much do you want to bet?”
“No,” she says quickly, groaning after she realizes what can of worms she opened. “I know that tone. I’m not challenging you. This isn’t some bet to see if you can prove me wrong. Plus, neither of us has money to spare.”
True.
“And,” Moffie points out. “It’s stupid. We always said we’d marry for love. Remember? I got my happy ever after, so it’s time for you
