Falling Madly

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Trevor

T eresa’s words felt like a blast of cold water. How did I not know this about her? Countless details I’d carefully curated about her flashed through my mind as I searched for a clue.

“Are you sure?” I finally asked, like a true moron.

I fully earned the eye roll she gave me. “No, Trevor. I’m not entirely sure where I grew up. Maybe it was another cute, backward-ass town in the Rockies called Cozy Creek.”

She glanced at the row of pretty lampposts with their pink decorations. I’d killed the engine, but neither of us was making a move to get out of the car.

“I thought you were born in Colorado Springs,” I said.

“I was. Mom moved me and my little sister here after my dad left. I was thirteen. She was worried about the big city influences and thought the wholesome, small-town environment would stop me from turning into a hard-to-handle teenager.”

“Did it?”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. A little sad, maybe. “It’s the magic fix. Instantly balances teenage hormones.” She nibbled at her lip, her jaw tense.

“Have you been back?”

“Only when I found out I was getting fired from Wilde and I drove here to pick up Bess.” She looked down at her fingers, blushing. “And scream at Charlie.”

“If it helps, I’ve wanted to scream at him many times.”

“He’s like your best friend.”

“I love him like a brother, but the man can be a right eejit… I mean an idiot.”

“Anyone can.”

I grabbed the door handle, trying to adjust my expectations. The pretty-as-a-picture small town was Teresa’s old hometown. What I associated with my future, she associated with her past. And if her formative years had been anything like mine, the memories were a mixed bag. Judging by the stiffness in her shoulders, maybe even worse.

Ye heart wants whit it wants.

It was one of those infuriating, tautological statements my dad overused, but it was true. I couldn’t turn off my feelings for her. I had to go on hoping and trying to win her back. And if I had to, I’d do it all on my own, without any small-town magic.

I flung open the door and launched myself out onto the sidewalk, then circled the car to help Teresa out. Not that she accepted my help. She downright fought it, but somehow, we both ended up in front of the right door at the right time.

Annalise Higgins, the realtor I knew from earlier, appeared from behind it, opening the paneled blue door with a huge smile and a flourish. She was in her fifties, wearing a pink bodysuit, her carefully coiffed dark hair perfectly matching the Valentine’s Day decorations and the ‘we-go-all-out’ vibe of the town.

“Hi Trevor! Great to see you again. Welcome, welcome!”

I introduced Teresa, and we followed Annalise up a narrow, squeaky staircase. At the top, she opened another door and led us into an unfurnished office space overlooking Main Street.

Three old-fashioned cable poles pierced the open floor, supplying power and internet connections to where the workstations had been. There was nothing to see, per se. The couple of windows were the pretty, paneled kind, casting a pattern of filtered daylight across the floor. The walls were white and blank, punctuated by two doors leading to other rooms. It was a perfectly functional space, and many times larger than what we had right now. And it cost about the same.

I could tell Teresa had noticed the size. She circled the room as if measuring it with her steps, her head tilted.

“I like the natural light,” I said, to appease Annalise. “Is there an ethernet connection?”

She fussed about showing me a little cupboard with wires sticking out of the wall inside it. “Right here. All good to go. The previous tenant ran a call center. They never had any issues.”

“Why did they move?” Teresa asked.

She cleared her throat. “The business… um, closed down.”

Teresa cast me a meaningful look, and I acknowledged her with a brief nod. Businesses went under every day. It happened in big cities and small towns alike.

“Let me show you the kitchen!” Annalise powered on, opening another door. “It’s quite cozy, but there’s space for a coffee maker and a microwave here. And you could fit a small table by the window.”

We followed her to the end of the narrow space, where you could just about fit a bistro-style table and two chairs.

“We can always take turns eating lunch,” Teresa muttered, pointedly backing out as if there wasn’t enough space to attempt a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.

“Like we take turns right now to use our current office?” I shot back with a grin.

Annalise’s professional smile never wavered. “There’s also a small storage space, but that’s about the size of it.”

“Could you leave us here for a bit to talk shop?” I asked her. “I have a few things to discuss with my colleague.”

“Sure thing!” She beamed, handing me the key. “I have some business down the street. I can collect this later. Just give me a call.”

“Thank you so much.”

She wiggled her fingers at us and wobbled away on her pink heels.

Teresa had settled by the window, leaning her forehead against the glass, staring outside. I shifted a little closer, trying to read her mood. “Okay. I know this isn’t what you had in mind for Valentine’s Day.”

She jerked back, as if thrown by my sudden appearance. “I told you we had a dinner reservation at this small Italian place. My favorite restaurant. I was going to have the creamy mushroom risotto.” Her voice was dreamy, yet depleted.

“And soufflé,” I added, not very helpfully.

Her voice echoed off the blank walls. She sounded sad. “He never canceled on me. He would have gone out with her for lunch, then met me for dinner.” She pushed away from the window and shuddered. “Who does that?”

“Dicks who like to keep their options open.”

Her mouth twisted, lips pink and plump from all the biting. I wanted to soothe them with mine. I wanted to make it all better. If I could climb over this wall between us.

“Does it look the same?” I asked, gesturing at the view behind the window.

“By and large. A lot prettier in some ways. Everything looks freshly painted and I can’t remember there being this many decorations, ever.”

“I was here around Christmas time and the whole place was lit up and bursting with tinsel. Their holiday budgets have probably gone up with all the tourism,” I said.

“It doesn’t have that dwindling feel anymore. So many small towns have that sadness about them, like everyone’s just bracing for the next person or business to pack up and leave.”

I took a tiny step forward. “I honestly think our business could thrive here. We’d need to work remotely with some clients, but there are also some we could tap locally. There’s a real sense of community and people want to work with local businesses. They only have a couple of freelancers offering design and marketing, but no companies. Ye wouldn’t have to fight over every job.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze still at the window. “If it was any other town…” The sentence trailed off, and I tried to give her space, staying quiet.

“Yeah, I get that,” I finally replied. “But you’ve changed. The town has changed. Maybe it won’t be the same.”

“Let’s go get coffee!” She threw out her arms and smiled, a little forcefully, like she was shifting gears without a clutch. “My brain needs a strong cup of something.”

“Sweet,” I said, following her to the door. “Cozy Creek Confectionary?”

Her head whipped around. “Is that still here?”

“Sure is. Bad coffee, great baking.”

“Perfect. I want a coffee that slaps me in the face and calls me names. And something insanely sweet to wash it down with.”

Her smile was quick. Too quick. Like she was plastering it on to cover the hurt. I wasn’t about to push her, though. Not when she was barely holding it together.