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“I know. Work is good, busy.” Once again, she seems a little off in her answer, her eyes shifting away from me when she answers. “Just overwhelming. You know how it is with a new job: you have to find a rhythm.”
“I certainly understand that. I feel like I’ve finally found somewhat of a balance, or at least as much of a balance as I can have right now being a mom and a lawyer. This case I’m working is intense, but it’ll be worth it. I actually have a meeting with them in a few hours.”
“Speaking of Chloe, how’s she doing?”
“Good, smart as ever. She starts school on Monday, and she’s so excited.”
“She’s going to be just like you when she grows up, you know that? Super driven and successful.” Aspen smiles, and while I appreciate the compliment, all I want is for Chloe to be happy and loved. Every day, I feel more and more guilt about her not having a father in her life. Even though I know that it’s not my fault, it’s still hard to convince myself of that as a mother.
Our waiter brings our food and we spend the next 2o minutes talking about how we need a girls’ night and how we’re both petrified at the idea of dating at the moment.
“The last date I went on,” Aspen says, shaking her head, “the guy asked if he could crash on my couch before we even finished the appetizer.”
“What? How old was he, 19?” I laugh.
“He was my age, 26!” she says with big eyes. “When I met him at the Tattered Cover, I thought it was so romantic, ya know? Meeting a guy at your favorite bookstore with coffee in hand. We talked about Yeats and Byron and we both longed to lounge in the English countryside while reading and seeing the spots that inspired some of the greats. But alas,” she laughs, “it was merely a pickup routine he’d used before.”
“Seriously?” I laugh.
“Yeah. I found out three days after the date when I stopped back into the store and the clerk told me to stay away from that guy. Needless to say, I bought our dinner that night and learned a lesson about not romanticizing meet-cutes with strangers in bookstores.”
“Excuse me, Juliette Pierce?” A young woman taps me on the shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Amber, the manager. I have a call for you.”
“A call? From whom?”
“A man named Alex Rockwell?”
“Oh, okay.” I reach into my bag to see if my phone is dead or if I have any missed calls, but there’s nothing.
“If you could follow me.” She gestures toward the front of the restaurant and I follow behind her, giving Aspen a questioning look. She points me toward the phone in the manager’s office and closes the door behind me.
“Hello?” I say, a little confused as to why he’s calling me here, and also, how he knew I was here. Then I remember that he was hired to follow me. “Any particular reason you’re not calling my cell?”
“Hi, Juliette.” A shiver runs down my spine when I hear the voice. It’s not Alex. It’s the same voice I heard on my cell a few weeks ago. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m watching. I’malwayswatching.” Before I can respond, there’s a click and the line goes dead.
I feel frozen. I slowly lower the receiver back onto the cradle and exit the office, thanking Amber and heading to my table.
“What was that about?” Aspen asks.
“Nothing.” I smile. “Alex just wanting to make a point that he can reach me anywhere. He likes to make sure I know he’s always around.”
“That’s a little weird. Have you tried to ditch him or something?”
“Hmm?” I place my silverware on my plate, no longer hungry. “Oh, no, he’s just making sure I don’t try to.” I smile, knowing full well I’m not sounding convincing at all. My stomach is in a knot, and the last thing I want to do is draw more attention to this situation and worry more people. I feel a tinge of panic grip my chest when I think about the walk back to my office.
Should I send Alex a text? Let him know I received another threatening call and that I want him to walk me to my office?Then it hits me: He’s probably already nearby.
“I should get back to the office—make sure I have enough time to prepare for my meeting,” I say to Aspen. “I’ll get lunch. I’m going to hit up the ladies’ room before I head out.” I hand my credit card to the waiter before he even brings the check.
“You sure? I got a promotion, you know.” She smiles and I wave away her offer to pay. “Well, thank you, Jules. And hey,” she reaches across the table, grabbing my hand, “don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve got this.”
“Thanks.” I smile back at her then tell her bye before pulling out my phone to text Alex. Everyone around me keeps telling me the same thing:You’ve got this, you’re an amazing mom, you’ll know exactly how to handle this or what to say.But the truth is, I don’t feel like I have any of it under control.
Me:Hey, where are you?
