Bound Hearts Read Free

reciprocate. She should have been embarrassed and worried about reeking of desperation. But more than anything, confusion and frustration plagued her.
    Despite her attraction and twenty-first century values, her pride refused to let her ask him out. She recognized her own hypocrisy since she was constantly advising Mary to pursue potential prospects, yet she couldn’t do the same.
    She and Mary traced their friendship to their college days in Madison. After she graduated from Wisconsin and began teaching at Walker High, her mother had gifted her with enough money to buy her loft on Southeast Belmont, a purchase she’d never have been able to otherwise afford on her modest teacher’s salary.
    Belmont’s funky edge suited her perfectly, a fact which drove Lauren, her mother, nuts, another part of the loft’s appeal. Juvenile, but she’d take her subtle digs where they would bloom.
    Southeast Belmont drove Lauren crazy. She rarely ventured over, instead, insisting that Calleigh come over to her house or they meet somewhere else. Somewhere more like the Pearl District. Or Nob Hill up by Northwest Twenty-Third Street, home to Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma, and Kitchen Kaboodle dotted alongside upscale pizzerias, fancy pet stores, and designer restaurants.
    Conversely, independent retailers selling everything from designer dog collars to beads, jewelry, clothing and books lined both sides of Belmont. Neighborhood grocery stores rounded out the neighborhood, making it convenient for residents to pick up gallons of milk along with their organic dog biscuits, and local vegetables.
    Her loft welcomed her home with open arms every evening. One long square that she’d cornered off with strategically placed furniture and plants, it measured approximately seventeen hundred square feet on the inside. A perfectly perched terrace managed enough space for a grill and small table and chairs. A grill that pretty much existed for aesthetic purposes only.
    Her muddy cleats and tennis racket were propped against the marble island that dominated the northern section of the loft. The primary living area with two couches, one writing desk, several chairs, and several tables was south of the kitchen. Her platform bed finished the loft off in the back. Lights and lamps throughout illuminated the otherwise cavernous space. A variety of yellows, blues, and greens on her furniture and pillows completed the soothing, peaceful environment.
    Calleigh placed her cordless phone in its charger, swallowed the last sip of her non-fat grande latte and stared at her half-eaten cranberry and orange scone before throwing it away. Her frugal half rebelled at wasting the food, but her waistline conscious other half caused her to toss it. Even consuming only half the scone summoned feelings of guilt and shame. Remorse threatened to choke her.
    Breathe in, breathe out. You are in control. One half of a low fat scone does not equal Armageddon. Your pants will still fit tonight, tomorrow, and Monday. You will not gain weight.
    Would this ever end? Would the voice in her mind ever say, “Eat more? Eat up! Enjoy your scone! Add some clotted cream! Scones are even better when accompanied by full-fat hot chocolate! What’s for dinner? Fried chicken? Delicious. Buttermilk biscuits? Perfect. Chocolate sheet cake for dessert? Have a second slice. Ditch the frozen yogurt for Ben & Jerry’s. Or Häagen-Dazs. Even better.”
    No. It was entirely unlikely the voice in her mind would ever make such blatantly dangerous and false statements. The loop that played in her head was full of blasphemous fantasies. Fantasies where food played a central role. An incredibly sad statement of her single life where her biggest wish list was full of fatty foods.
    How many times growing up had she been subjected to Lauren saying, “A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,” whenever anything remotely sweet or heavily caloric, be it cookies or burritos, tempted her taste buds? Too many