[chapter fifteen]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
This story is gonna be darker, and deal with serious, sometimes disturbing
issues. Just so everyone knows. Okay? Okay.
**
~Jimmie's POV~
I hope she doesn't think I've been avoiding her.
I haven't.
Well, I mean, I have, but …
Well, you know.
"Hi."
"Hi." I say warmly, opening my front door to a very happy, very smiley Faye.
This is good.
"So where are you taking me to dinner?" I tease, closing the front door behind me and trailing her to the car.
"Seeing as how you pay my salary, I'm thinking Taco Bell." She jokes and I laugh.
"Time for a raise?"
"And then some." She grins in return.
This is definitely good.
**
"You look…"
"What? Do I look okay?" She asks, her hand flying to her hair to smooth is back from her face.
"You look great. I was gonna say you look happy." I say shyly.
"I am."
"Any reason why?"
"I'll show you after dinner."
Hrm.
**
"What is this place?" I ask as we step out of the car in a very tidy, very quiet cul-de-sac. She says nothing as we walk up the front steps and she pulls out a key and opens the front door.
"Mine."
"Huh?" I ask as she flips on a light.
"It's my place."
Okay, I'm confused.
I look around and see boxes and bags everywhere. Nothing on the walls, nothing unpacked. Just lots of boxes.
"I left him." She says in a whisper. "And Martha Stewart won't be over to decorate for a few more days, but it's mine. This is my place." She pauses. "I left him."
And before I know what I'm doing, I'm pulling her into my arms and holding her so tightly, I don't think I'll ever be able to let her go.