On the Way Down

Chapter Twelve

My thirtieth birthday finds me awake at the first light of dawn, as the sun's morning rays paint the sky outside my bedroom window in gradient pastels. I could blame the usual city noises for rousing me from my dreams, but I doubt the sirens or car alarms are at fault. Anticipation is, and so are my nerves.

Last Saturday began as an up-in-the-air, casual reunion with Phoenix to hear what he had to say and figure out how I felt. Today is an actual date. When he asked if he could pick me up at my place, I had no reservations about texting him my address. The concerns I had at this time last week about my home being my sanctuary and inviting him in have vanished into the ethers, so I can't explain my racing heartbeat as I lie in bed, thinking about our plans.

Not that I have insight into what those plans are. He hasn't told me where we're going. I tried to pry it out of him a couple of times this week, in text conversations and when he called me. He would only say dinner is involved and we'll be near the coast, so to bring a sweater or jacket. Outfit planning with these vague details has been a challenge. His answer when I asked if dinner is at a casual place or somewhere dressier didn't clear things up.

You'll be perfect no matter what you wear, he replied. You always are.

I wish I could say the compliment didn't make me smile at my phone. I wish I could say I haven't thought about our kiss and how I want to kiss him again about eighty-four million times since leaving his house on Sunday. The person I became after he exited my life is normally much more grounded than the version of me that has emerged this week, especially with men and dating. No one I've gone on dates with since the last time I dated Phoenix has knocked me off-balance or sent my head soaring into the clouds like this.

Perhaps that's where my nerves come in. It's a little terrifying to feel this way so soon, but then, Phoenix isn't a stranger. We spent two years together, even if there are pieces of his life since then I need to catch up on now. What are the rules when it's someone you have a history with and have been deeply intimate with, or are there any? This is new territory for me, and my brain is working overtime to make sense of it all. For the sake of my sleeping habits, I would really like it to take a break.

I bury my head in my pillow, blocking out the sunlight from outside and trying to muffle my internal chatter. More rest is what I need, and not this. There are hours to go until Phoenix gets here, and I don't want to be exhausted tonight.

Focus on breathing. Focus on one second at a time. Focus on right now.

I try this for a while, and then I close my eyes and resort to mentally repeating a mantra I learned a few years ago in a meditation class I took to reduce the anxiety I had then and remain in the present, during a time I was prone to dwelling on the past. It must work, because it's after nine o'clock when I next open my eyes, and I'm calmer than I was in the early hours. Now I just have to stay that way.

I take my time getting out of bed. Once I'm up, I make my way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee. My doorbell rings as I'm pouring water into the coffee maker. I freeze, mid-pour. It can't be Ava, because she's in New York. My family lives on the other side of the country and wouldn't show up unannounced. That leaves Phoenix, but he isn't supposed to come by until late this afternoon. I haven't showered yet, and I'm still bleary-eyed and in my pajamas. Did I somehow get the time wrong?

I abandon the coffee maker and hurry to the door, combing my fingers through my hair as I do. When I get there and glance through the peephole, I'm relieved to see a woman I don't know holding a floral arrangement.

"Hi," I greet her, opening the door.

"Delaney?" she asks. I nod, and she hands over the largest and most fragrant arrangement of long-stemmed roses I've ever had in my possession.