asked, scratching my arm nervously. “This all seems so official, Sean. It's...it's weird . Can't I just come over or something? Grab some takeout?”
“If that's what you want.”
I thought for a moment before responding. Up until the other night, things with Sean had been steadily improving, and we were just to a point where I could see some sort of future for us. An official date seemed too much like a milestone—a tipping point—however benign or mundane it may have actually been. With our regression the last time I saw him, I wasn't sure we needed that. What I did need to know was that things could go back to what they'd been, before I could move forward. I loved Sean, and I knew it, but love alone wasn't enough. If there was no stable foundation beneath us, we were destined to crumble, no matter how many times we rebuilt.
“That's what I want. I'll see you at six.” I hung up before he responded and walked back out to the storefront. Jay looked at me intently while Peyta yammered on about some new documentary that was going to blow the lid off of Big Pharma and their hold on the U.S. government.
“What did he want?” Jay asked.
“Why do you need to know?” I countered defensively.
“After the conversation we had the other night, I'd say you owe me.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “He wanted to go on a date. Happy now?”
“Extremely,” he replied, a smile growing broad across his face.
“Why do you care so much?” I asked, stepping closer to him.
“Because he needs you,” he said, unfazed by my approach. “He's never said as much, but I can see it. You save him from becoming what he fears most.”
“Sean doesn't need anyone ,” I scoffed. “He's the very definition of self-sufficient.”
“In some ways, yes, but in others he's completely lost, Ruby. He doesn't let you see that. He doesn't let anyone see it at all, actually, but I know it’s true. You don’t put up walls as thick as he has for any other reason.”
“I'm with Ruby on this one, Jay. Sean's one serious hardass,” Peyta added.
“Say what you like, ladies, but there's more to him than meets the eye. You'd both be wise to remember that,” he said, his tone cautionary.
I shrugged him off and returned to the back, not wanting to think any more deeply on the subject at hand, or on the future date that was looming. Determined to do something productive, I pulled out a necklace I had been working on, piecing together sea glass and driftwood into an intricately woven pattern. I stared at it for the longest time trying to read the piece, wanting to see where I should go with it next. The task seemed to become more futile as I stared at it. The harder I focused, the less I could see.
I rummaged through the container of glass, picking up pieces to see what looked right—what fit—but nothing did. Too entrenched in figuring it out, I lost all perspective and flow of the piece, no longer allowing it to just happen, but trying to force the steps. I sighed and threw it down on the table before pushing my stool away and heading over to the wall of materials. I needed to do something else, change gears for a while.
Staring at the shelves of plastic containers, I finally grabbed a few boxes of random scraps and gems, hoping inspiration would strike elsewhere. When I plopped myself back down at the workbench, I caught a glimpse of the necklace in my peripheral vision. I begrudgingly turned my attention back to it, and that's when I saw it. Through the side of a plastic container, I saw a round, vibrant green piece of sea glass. Excited, I dug it out of the pile and strung it onto the silk cording. It was exactly what I'd needed.
Four hours later, I finished the necklace and made a gorgeous pair of earrings to accompany it in the showroom. I took it out to show Peyta, who insisted on staying and working on the reorders for the month. She applauded as I modeled the set for her before placing it on display.
“That one bead is fantastic
“If that's what you want.”
I thought for a moment before responding. Up until the other night, things with Sean had been steadily improving, and we were just to a point where I could see some sort of future for us. An official date seemed too much like a milestone—a tipping point—however benign or mundane it may have actually been. With our regression the last time I saw him, I wasn't sure we needed that. What I did need to know was that things could go back to what they'd been, before I could move forward. I loved Sean, and I knew it, but love alone wasn't enough. If there was no stable foundation beneath us, we were destined to crumble, no matter how many times we rebuilt.
“That's what I want. I'll see you at six.” I hung up before he responded and walked back out to the storefront. Jay looked at me intently while Peyta yammered on about some new documentary that was going to blow the lid off of Big Pharma and their hold on the U.S. government.
“What did he want?” Jay asked.
“Why do you need to know?” I countered defensively.
“After the conversation we had the other night, I'd say you owe me.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “He wanted to go on a date. Happy now?”
“Extremely,” he replied, a smile growing broad across his face.
“Why do you care so much?” I asked, stepping closer to him.
“Because he needs you,” he said, unfazed by my approach. “He's never said as much, but I can see it. You save him from becoming what he fears most.”
“Sean doesn't need anyone ,” I scoffed. “He's the very definition of self-sufficient.”
“In some ways, yes, but in others he's completely lost, Ruby. He doesn't let you see that. He doesn't let anyone see it at all, actually, but I know it’s true. You don’t put up walls as thick as he has for any other reason.”
“I'm with Ruby on this one, Jay. Sean's one serious hardass,” Peyta added.
“Say what you like, ladies, but there's more to him than meets the eye. You'd both be wise to remember that,” he said, his tone cautionary.
I shrugged him off and returned to the back, not wanting to think any more deeply on the subject at hand, or on the future date that was looming. Determined to do something productive, I pulled out a necklace I had been working on, piecing together sea glass and driftwood into an intricately woven pattern. I stared at it for the longest time trying to read the piece, wanting to see where I should go with it next. The task seemed to become more futile as I stared at it. The harder I focused, the less I could see.
I rummaged through the container of glass, picking up pieces to see what looked right—what fit—but nothing did. Too entrenched in figuring it out, I lost all perspective and flow of the piece, no longer allowing it to just happen, but trying to force the steps. I sighed and threw it down on the table before pushing my stool away and heading over to the wall of materials. I needed to do something else, change gears for a while.
Staring at the shelves of plastic containers, I finally grabbed a few boxes of random scraps and gems, hoping inspiration would strike elsewhere. When I plopped myself back down at the workbench, I caught a glimpse of the necklace in my peripheral vision. I begrudgingly turned my attention back to it, and that's when I saw it. Through the side of a plastic container, I saw a round, vibrant green piece of sea glass. Excited, I dug it out of the pile and strung it onto the silk cording. It was exactly what I'd needed.
Four hours later, I finished the necklace and made a gorgeous pair of earrings to accompany it in the showroom. I took it out to show Peyta, who insisted on staying and working on the reorders for the month. She applauded as I modeled the set for her before placing it on display.
“That one bead is fantastic
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