Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Theo
Ireread Esther’s text a dozen times throughout the rest of the afternoon. Not long after she sent it, her car pulled into the driveway. Lovesick fool that I was, I peeked out through the curtains and watched her hurry into the guest house without a glance in my direction.
Even as I told myself it didn’t mean anything, regret stabbed through me once more.
Though I probably should have planned dinner for that night, I wanted her to have time to get used to the idea—and I wanted to do something special for her, not just reheat some frozen casserole my mother had left behind.
Once I knew Esther was home safe at the guest house, I made myself stop procrastinating and started scouring recipes.
When I had it narrowed down to three options, I consulted Julian, which unfortunately necessitated explaining all that had happened to Oliver.
He didn’t berate me like I probably deserved, just gently supported me as he always had before passing the phone back to Julian, who walked me through the difficulty of each meal, made suggestions for side dishes, and told me he and Oliver would be rooting for me.
Gratitude for my friends flooded my chest as I made my shopping list.
Without Esther as a buffer, I steeled myself before walking into the grocery store. Three days of soul-crushing silence had given me plenty of time to think about the future, and I’d come to a decision. It wasn’t fair to put the responsibility for my choices onto Esther’s shoulders.
She’d carried too much for too long.
This time, when people stopped me in the aisles to chat, I gave them my full attention even if only for a minute or two.
When I ran into old Mrs. Brody in the freezer aisle, I took her hand in mine and apologized for always using her yard to cut through, especially now that I understood how hard she’d worked on her landscaping.
I offered to do some gardening work for her in the spring to make up for it, and she pulled me into a frail embrace before patting my cheek and moseying on.
When I moved on to select some produce, the memory of those three apples from my grocery trip with Esther almost made me laugh aloud.
I found myself grinning down at the bin of potatoes until I felt the weight of someone’s stare.
Once I’d added the potatoes to a bag and put them in my cart, I let my gaze travel across the crowded store, wondering if I’d find Tyler glaring daggers in my direction.
No one was watching me except for a young blonde guy who looked only vaguely familiar. He glanced in my direction before disappearing down the cereal aisle.
My thoughts returned to my new plan. Regardless of whether Esther wanted a future with me, I would be returning to Spruce Hill.
I wasn’t sure what that would look like just yet—a northern branch of Lawn Ranger?
Splitting my time between here and Asheville until I was settled enough to stay here permanently? An apartment, a house in town?
Yes, it would hurt like hell if Esther wanted nothing more to do with me, but I had let my baby brother pay the price of my absence for eighteen years. It was my turn to carry some of that burden.
Our parents weren’t getting any younger, no matter how active and capable they still were, and Alex…I thought about his girlfriend and her son, about the little family he’d become part of. Could I really turn my back on all of it a second time?
The answer was a resolute no.
So instead of deflecting and dodging, I chatted and smiled, accepted and returned holiday greetings, and felt the weight of eighteen years slowly melt away.
When I got home, I put away the groceries, limiting myself to a single glance out the kitchen window.
Once everything was sorted, I settled down on the couch with my laptop to search for an apartment in town.
Toni, who I suspected was missing Esther as much as I was, curled up against the side of my thigh.
A week before Christmas was probably not the best time to be apartment-hunting, but I’d have to work with what I had.
In an ideal world, I’d get this sorted out before dinner with Esther tomorrow night.
I wanted her to know I was serious about this and that my choice held no expectations of her own response.
Fortunately, my parents’ popularity worked in my favor. By midnight, when I finally headed up to bed, I’d actually gotten email responses from two of my three top choices. I responded that my availability for a walk-through was wide open.
For the first time since the snowball fight, I felt like things were looking up.
Toni woke me up at first light by perching herself on the center of my chest. Mid-dream, I thought I was drowning, unable to draw breath, but even my flailing didn’t dislodge her.
I awoke to bright golden eyes looking down at me with casual disdain, and as soon as my brain cleared away the cobwebs of sleep, she hopped off of me and trotted toward the door.
For once, I was grateful for the early wake-up, because I found an email from one of the property owners offering to show me the apartment at lunchtime.
I replied right away, thanked him, and read through my meal prep notes to figure out what I needed to get done ahead of time if I was going to be gone for an hour or two.
Following Julian’s instructions to a tee, I whisked up the marinade, added the potatoes to the container, and popped it back in the fridge.
I’d even drafted up a timeline of when everything else needed to be started, but I’d be home in plenty of time from the apartment viewing, so I left the rest for later.
My primary requirement for an apartment was simply that I didn’t want to live in anyone’s pocket. The guest house was lovely, but even if Esther invited me to move in—which seemed unlikely at this exact moment, I had to admit—I didn’t think I could handle being so close to my parents all the time.
And given how quickly the Spruce Hill gossip mill worked, I didn’t want to be living that close to anyone I knew.
While the other place I’d contacted was in one of the fancier new buildings that had sprung up while I was away, this one was a single apartment located above Davies Soap Emporium, an artisan shop in town.
I knew the owner, Mark, from childhood, but nobody else lived in the building and I trusted he wouldn’t infringe on my privacy.
I entered the shop just before noon, announced by tinkling bells attached to the door. Mark Davies, who looked like he’d be more comfortable running a surf shop than making organic bath products, grinned broadly from behind the counter.
“Hey, man,” he called as he came over to clasp my hand. “God, it’s been ages. How’ve you been? Looks like North Carolina’s been treating you well. Though I guess not well enough, if you’re looking for a place back here?”
I laughed. “I’m good. Just exploring some options, you know?”
Mark had been on the soccer team with me when he was a sophomore and I was a senior, though we’d run in different circles apart from that, and he’d never been one to beat around the bush.
Tapping the side of his nose, he nodded toward the back of the shop. “Absolutely. You know you can trust me to keep my mouth shut, but it’d be great to have you back.”
He led me up a staircase behind the storeroom, explaining recent renovations he’d made to the shop and the apartment, pointing out the designated parking spots visible through a back window at the top of the stairs. Through it all, he didn’t ask any questions or even mention Esther.
The apartment boasted a single bedroom and tons of natural light streaming through the windows.
It had a decent kitchen, came with appliances, and, in the only comment to indicate Mark was aware of anything going on between me and Esther, he informed me he was more than happy to rent it out on a month-to-month basis while I found my feet.
On our way out, I asked him whether any of his products contained nuts. He didn’t hide his swift grin, but he assured me everything was completely vegan and nut-free, so I bought an artistically arranged little basket of products for Esther.
We’d agreed on not exchanging Christmas gifts, but I decided an “I’m sorry I’m such a fucking idiot” gift didn’t count.
I left the shop with a copy of the rental agreement, a receipt for my deposit check, and an invitation to have dinner with Mark and his wife at some point in the future.
That was another thing I’d forgotten about Spruce Hill—the fact that my history here contained more good than bad, when it came right down to it.
Hopefully, the future would contain more good than bad, too.