Jeremy texted around nine asking if he could come by for his stuff today, and much as I wish I didn’t care, I don’t want him to get here and find me in my current state—frizzy bedhead, glasses on, and wearing the faded-out, pink-and-green plaid pajama pants that have been my favorites since college. Plus, I’m wearing one of Jerm’s old T-shirts, heather gray with “OLE MISS” stamped across the chest in block print—his alma mater. It seems to send the wrong message. I’d planned on not being here when he came by, but when he texted I asked him about Simon, and he said he’d bring him along. I definitely don’t want to miss a visit from Simon. I also don’t want to mess up this truce we have going on. I should take advantage of this new geniality and ask if I can have permanent doggie visitation rights. Not a good idea, my brain shouts at me. I don’t need reasons to keep Jeremy in my life. I’m already getting too mired in my past for my own good.
