Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) (18 page)

“What are we doing here?” Brittany asks when I pull into a shopping outlet to start our date. “You’re taking me shopping?” she adds with surprise.

“No, I’m not.” After she arrived, I was so grateful that I’d made the plans I did for our date. She didn’t tell me much about her day, but she was tense as I’ve ever seen her and seemed to be on edge. I want to take her hand and walk her far away from the edge. “We’re going to relax; we’re getting massages.”

Her lips purse together. “I’ve never had a massage by a pro before.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Well, let’s go.”

After filling out some paperwork and spending a few minutes in the waiting room, we’re both called back. We’re briefly introduced to our masseuses and then we’re stripping down and getting onto the table. Back in college, massages were a regular thing for me. I was so tense all the time. The only time I felt like I could really relax was for an hour-and-a-half-long massage. I’m not really sure why I ever stopped going.

The next ninety minutes are blissful. There’s soft, relaxing music playing. The room is dimly lit. Four strong hands, sometimes in combo with hot stones, are working the muscles of our bodies. A few times, I wonder how Brittany is enjoying it. She answers positively when occasionally asked by her masseuse, which is a good sign.

When the door softly clicks behind them as they leave for us to redress, Brittany says, “I’m not sure I can get up. I’m so loose, I might flop over.”

I laugh. “Just stay where you are then.” She does, too, while I get dressed. I grab her clothes from the chair and bring them to her. “Resting period is over.”

She frowns. “I’m oily and I have to put clothes on?”

“You’ll get used to it.” I trail my fingers up her naked thigh. “We’ll shower when we get home.”

“Our date’s over?”

“This part is.”

With a long, possibly exaggerated sigh, she sits up, hops off the table, and begins to dress. A to-do list begins to form in my head of everything I need to accomplish while she takes a shower. Not to mention that I’d like a shower myself. Luckily, Ben owes me a favor and he’s doing the most time-consuming task for me.

Brittany, fully dressed now, throws her arms around me. “Thank you for this, Trace.”

I give her a quick peck on the lips. “Welcome. Let’s go.”

The ride home is quiet. We both head to my bedroom once we’re there to get a change of clothes.

“What do I need to wear? The only thing I have is pjs and clothes for tomorrow, unless I put the clothes I’m wearing back on,” Brittany says, glancing at me over her shoulder.

“Well, it’s a night in because I figured it was the best way to stay relaxed after the massages, so whatever you want to wear will work.” I hold up my pajama shorts. “I’m going with this if you want to go with your pjs.”

Brittany’s looking at me as if she’s mesmerized or something of the sort. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” I ask, walking over to her.

“Read me so well to know what I need.”

The answer is simple. “I pay attention to you, Britt. I notice when you’re tense or stressed. Your forehead wrinkles because your eyebrows pull together. Sometimes, you have the tiniest of frowns. You’ll seem a little distracted. You either focus on one thing or look around too much.” I shrug. “I just pay attention and wing it from there.”

That makes her laugh. “Well, keep doing what you’re doing. Am I using the guest bathroom to shower?”

“Use mine.”

She nods and we head our separate ways. Once I’m in the guest bathroom, I call in our order and text Ben when it should be ready for pick-up. Then I take the quickest shower ever. While waiting for Ben to come, I grab what I need and head outside. I start setting everything up, only stopping to take the food from Ben and hide it in the microwave before returning outside to finish.

Darkness starts to fall, but there are ocean-scented candles around the perimeter of the rectangular plastic pool I bought. It’s filled with sand and there are two towels lying in the center for us to sit. There’s a radio on the picnic table, playing soft sounds of waves crashing in the ocean. I stand upright to inspect my handy work.

“Trace? What’s all this?”

“Part Two.” I wave my hand for her to come over to me. She does and I instruct her to step into the pool and sit on the towel. “I’ll be right back.” I fix our plates, grab two cans of Sun Drop, and return outside. Lily is lying in the grass next to the pool. Brittany is wiggling her toes in the sand. I step into the pool and sit next to her. “We’ve been to Vegas, but we can’t exactly pick up and go to Italy. Instead, we’re going to pretend we’re on a beach in Italy. This,” I hold up the plate of pasta, “is from the best Italian restaurant in the city.”

It doesn’t take long for us to dig in. We’re quiet as we eat. Brittany keeps glancing over me with that goofy, my-boyfriend-just-did-something-great grin that I haven’t seen in such a long time. I love that grin. It means I’ve done something she loves. What’s better than that? When we finish, I take our plates inside. I turn up the track of the waves and turn off the outside light before returning to her.

I lie down on the towels with an arm behind my head and my knees bent and Brittany follows suit. The sand is cool beneath our feet. There’s always something special about cool sand. It just feels so good. The moon seems especially bright and the stars twinkle beautifully. With my free hand, I reach over to hold Brittany’s. It almost feels as if we really are at the beach. There’s probably too many bugs making their noises than what’s actually at the beach, but that’s it.

“You did good,” Brittany tells me.

I chuckle. “Thanks.” I turn my head to look at her. “How are you doing today?” I ask softly.

She takes a deep breath. “It was a little rough this morning, but I’m better now. Trying to be patient and hope the meds work. No negative side effects so far, either.” She turns her head. “How are you doing today?”

“It’s a good day for me.”

She smiles and looks back up at the sky. After a minute or so, she asks, “What do you hope to accomplish in the future?”

I take some time to think about it. “Well, I already have a great job and live where I want to be living. I want to eventually make it to Italy, and maybe travel some more. And I want try the whole marriage thing again. Ultimately, it’s my fault my first marriage failed, so given the chance, I’d want to marry the love of my life and make it last until I die.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Yeah. Maybe. One day.”

Brittany laughs, causing me to glance over at her. “You said yes and then maybe. You don’t sound so sure.”

“Well, I haven’t really thought about it before. I was in college, which was a definite no, then I was married to Faith, which was a not really, and then I was alone before I started dating you.” Suddenly, images of a happy, healthy, pregnant Brittany fill my mind along with some of her holding a baby who looks just like her. It almost makes me want to correct myself and answer that yes, one day, I want kids. But I’m not going to do that. “What about you?” I ask. “What’s your future look like?”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to move up with my job in due time. I want to get married one day, too. Mostly, I want to focus on the right now and on getting better. Thinking too far into the future gives me anxiety.”

That’s understandable.

Brittany sits up, slapping a spot on her leg. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure
Dateline
will start soon and the mosquitoes are starting to bite me.”

We blow out the candles, turn off the radio, and go inside, Lily on our heels. Even though I’m pretty stuffed from dinner, I grab a bag of popcorn and toss it in the microwave. She was right. My show will start in five minutes. The delicious aroma of buttery popcorn fills the kitchen. As the last few kernels pop, I grab the bag and head into the living room, where Brittany and Lily are sitting on the couch. The rest of the night is spent cuddling on the couch, munching on popcorn, watching TV, and then going to bed.

Brittany’s had a death grip on her wrist since the moment we saw the very first apartment. We’ve seen four this morning and none of them were as nice as the one she’s in right now. One landlord gave us both the creeps. Another showed up twenty minutes late. The other two seemed fine, but the apartments were less than stellar. All of my hard work in getting my girl to relax yesterday flew out the window as she grew tense with every passing minute.

She hasn’t said much either. That all comes to an end once we walk into my house and I say, “Britt.”

“What in the hell am I supposed to do now?” she shouts, whirling around to face me, her arms flailing about. “I can’t move into any of those places! I only have a week left. I really don’t want to pay more than I am now. What am I going to do?” Her frustration sends tears over the edge, falling down her cheeks and leaving a wet, glistening trail behind.

My mind goes into overdrive to think of a solution for her. For the moment, I pull her into my arms and hold her. I end up blurting out the first thing I think of. “You could move in with me.” Brittany takes a step back to stare at me with wide eyes. “Until you find a new place, I mean.” My heart starts hammering as the silence grows between us. That was a mistake. Obviously, by her reaction. But now my brain is playing dead and refuses to help me out with how to recover from this.

“A
re you insane?” The question jumps off my lips in a shout, and I feel as if I’m forcing it out to cover up some of my hurt. I panicked when he asked. Who wouldn’t? But then when I realized he wanted it to be temporary, my mind surged to pain and questions. Are we in a place where we should live together? I don’t know. But to hastily tack on that it’d be a temporary move, it’s like he doesn’t want to live with me. And if he doesn’t want to live with me now, why would he in the future?

Because that’s how my mind works!

“I...I...” My mouth keeps opening, but that’s all I can manage to get out.

Unfortunately, Trace decides to start talking. “I have an empty guest bedroom, Brittany. As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think we’re quite there yet. But you could move in, have your own room, and we’d be roommates until you could find your own place.”