“I really gotta go, I can’t be late. See you at eleven. Please, for my sake, don’t be late!”

“I won’t! I promise!” Elodie shouted, as I approached the front door. I slid my work shoes on and didn’t look back at Kael as I walked out. He did something nice for me. More than one thing. The gestures weren’t only thoughtful, but practical. I appreciated it, I did, but I also didn’t want him to make a habit of doing things like that, of fixing my things.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

My morning at work was the same as always: two elderly retirees and one married soldier who came in at the same time almost every week. He never made an appointment, but I always kept the spot open for him. He was nice and easy, tipped well, and didn’t groan and moan while I did my job.

I now had “free time” to help clean up around the spa and avoid walk-ins—as much as they could be avoided. I didn’t like the uncertainty. It was always uncomfortable, and those clients hardly ever came back. It didn’t matter what their body looked like; all types of bodies came through those doors. I found it refreshing and hopeful on those rare occasions when women didn’t put themselves down during a treatment. I wanted them all to let their insecurities go while in my room. It was both comforting and disheartening to know that other women thought of their bodies in the same harmful way that I did. We always suspect that others are thinking or talking about us, when most of the time everyone’s too worried about themselves to focus on anyone or anything else.

I was pulling out my second round of towels from the dryer when I thought of how uninteresting a part of my job this was—“side work” is what we called it when I was waiting tables. I’m constantly running out of towels, filling the fridges, loading the washer. I spend probably as much time on freaking towels as I do actually treating people.

Mali popped her head into the break room.

“That guy came here for you,” she told me while we folded towels.

“What guy?” I immediately thought of Kael.

“The one you used to like,” she said. The way she wrapped like around her tongue made me feel like a child.

Oh. Brien. Great.

“When?” I asked.

“About ten minutes before you got here.”

I dropped a towel onto the pile before I folded it. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She snickered. “Because I can’t have you getting back together with him. He’s bad news.”

She shrugged. I gaped at her, grabbed the towel, and threw it at her.