Waiting for You by Abigail Strom Page A

he’d told her behind her. That was the risk with conversation. You could be going along just fine, and then find yourself falling into an abyss you hadn’t even seen coming.
    “I know you’re a perfectionist, but you must have messed up at least once.”
    That made her smile. “You could say that, yes. The first big client I had was a local furniture company. I transposed two digits in their toll free customer service number, and who do you think their customers got connected to when they called to place their orders?”
    “The President of the United States?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Then I’m guessing a phone sex line.”
    “Close. A transvestite escort service.”
    He grinned. “Wow. So how’d you handle that one?”
    “I offered to maintain their website free of charge for six months, and I called all the customers who’d gotten the wrong number personally, to apologize.”
    “Did the company stay with you?”
    “They did. Luckily the site I’d made them was spectacular, and I did some internet marketing that helped drive their sales up fifteen percent in that six month period.”
    “Impressive.”
    “It saved my butt, anyway.”
    And it was a butt worth saving. When she’d walked into the garage today in a pair of faded jeans that hugged her like a second skin, he’d decided that Erin had the most gorgeous posterior he’d ever seen.
    “Can I ask you another question?” she asked.
    “Sure.”
    “It’s a tough one.”
    He doubted it would be as hard as the last one. “Go ahead.”
    She hesitated a moment, and then asked, “Do you believe the world is a good place?”
    That wasn’t tough at all. “No.”
    She looked surprised. “Just like that? You don’t even have to think about it?”
    He shrugged. “When Megan got sick, I was in Afghanistan on my first tour of duty. I was a soldier in a war zone, with death breathing down my neck every day. And Megan was just a kid. It never occurred to me that I could live and she could die.” He paused. “But Megan’s dead, and I’m still here. So, no, I don’t believe the world is a good place.”
    He half expected Erin to argue with him. When she didn’t, he asked, “What about you? Do you think the world is a good place?”
    She looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I want to believe it is.”
    He hadn’t expected that. Somehow, he would’ve thought Erin had a simpler relationship with this stuff than he did. “But you’re not sure?”
    She hesitated. “When I was little, I used to pray that my mom would come and take me away with her. My dad wasn’t a bad man, but after mom left he kind of…closed down. He never hugged me, never said I love you. He made sure I had a roof over my head and food to eat, and that was it.”
    She leaned back in her chair and slid her hands into her jeans pockets. “Of course my mom never came for me. I was always shy in school, and before I met Allison I didn’t have any good friends. I used to get so lonely…” She shook her head. “Back then, it was hard to believe the world was a good place. And when I grew up and started to look past my own experience, I saw plenty of evidence that it’s a terrible place. Disease and violence and poverty…and people out there much lonelier than I had ever been.”
    His heart tightened in his chest. He’d met Erin’s dad a few times and he seemed like a taciturn man, but Erin had never talked about her home life and he hadn’t known what it was like.
    “Was that why you used to come over so much? When we were kids?”
    Erin nodded. “I loved your house. Meeting your family made me think there might be some good in the world, after all. You were all so good to me, so good to each other. So warm and kind and generous. I don’t know if you realize how lucky you are, having the family you do.”
    “Yeah,” he said in sudden bitterness. “I’m real lucky.”
    She stared at him, startled, and he took a deep breath. Erin didn’t know how much he hated that