11. Kelsey
I hung up with Oskar,fell back on my bed, and covered my face with my pillow.
What are you doing, Kelsey?
Did I just get a boyfriend? I maybe just got a boyfriend.
No, I didn’t get a boyfriend—that would be crazy. You don’t start a long-distance relationship with a man you’ve met once.
Who did that? Not me.
But I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t interested in anyone else.
Thoughts of Oskar had consumed me for weeks. I dreamed about him at night, and throughout the day I thought of things that reminded me of him or that I wanted to tell him or write him about.
Other than the obvious physical frustration, why couldn’t we get to know each other this way? I was probably getting to know him better than I would if I lived next door to him. In fact, I had a feeling that living close to Oskar would probably just result in the type of near-constant hormonal explosion that wouldn’t see us coming up for air very often.
And didn’t that sound really tempting at the moment?
I groaned again at the memory of his voice on the phone before I dragged myself out of bed and into my clothes for the evening. Felipe had offered to go with me, so I was looking forward to the company even if the food didn’t sound very exciting.
I picked Felipe up at his apartment, and we drove over to Sausalito. It was a boating town, and the restaurant was actually right on the water, so we could see the sailboats out the window along with an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a beautiful location but wouldn’t get a ton of foot or car traffic. The boat traffic would be good though.
I looked over at Felipe. He was wearing a red sweater that made his skin glow.
“Was Alan mad at me for stealing you tonight?”
Felipe waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind about him. He can throw a hissy if he wants. We need to catch up. Can I tell you that you have a glow in your very fair cheeks? I haven’t seen you look this happy in a long time.”
I could feel myself blush as I smiled.
Felipe cupped his chin in his hand and leaned forward, his elbow on the edge of the table. “You should always be this happy. It makes you gorgeous. Is it this chef? Let me see his picture again.”
I held out my phone, and Felipe sighed.
“You’re sure he only likes girls? I could share with you. Alan wouldn’t mind.”
“He seems more interested in me than Josh, so that’s probably a good indication.”
“Baby, it would be. I’d scoop that brother of yours up if he played on our team. He’s as gorgeous as you. What do they put in the water out in wine country to grow them like you two?”
“Do you think I’m crazy to be trying to—I don’t know—date someone who is hundreds of miles away from me after meeting him once?”
Felipe looked at me, and his eyes danced. “Maybe. Maybe you are. But maybe you’re not. Maybe this is the start of your great love story. He’s different for you; I can see it.”
I rolled my eyes a little but smiled. “You’re such a romantic.”
“How dare you.” He narrowed his eyes. “I am not. But I have hope for you. Unfortunately” —he leaned toward me— “I don’t have much hope for this restaurant. Blah.”
I wrinkled my nose a little at his assessment but nodded.
After I droppedFelipe off at his house, drove home, and took my shoes off for the evening, I collapsed in bed. I took out my notebook and wrote down my overall impressions of the restaurant and the food. I had taken some surreptitious notes during dinner, but I tried to avoid the rudeness of an obvious notebook on the table even when they knew I was writing a review.
I leaned back against my heavy wooden headboard and flipped on the television, looking for something to watch.
Copenhagen Uncovered.
My eyes lit up. “Nice.”
As the program started, I wondered if Oskar missed snow. There seemed to be a lot of snow in Denmark, and there certainly wasn’t any on the Central Coast. I continued watching. I almost wanted to take notes, it was so interesting.
Holy smokes… Was everyone in Denmark tall, blond, and good-looking? Why hadn’t I made this a travel destination before?
Oooh… snowboarders.
I wondered if Oskar snowboarded—he would look great in those pants. Visions of peeling layers of clothes off a ruddy-faced Oskar in front of a fire momentarily distracted me from the program.
Food. Right.
I watched a survey of some of the best restaurants in Copenhagen, what chefs were doing there, and the beautiful scenery of the city with all the canals. It was beautiful.
What made a person leave their home country and move halfway around the world? Denmark looked like a near-utopia. Why had he left?
Was he just looking for something new? Was this a way station on a journey?
I had a sudden vision of Talia and Kurt, Josh, Sergio and me laughing around Josh’s table at the ranch house, drinking wine and telling jokes after dinner. Oskar was there too. He was holding my hand and laughing along with everyone.
A wave of homesickness swept over me, and I felt my eyes start to water.
What was happening to me? Why was watching a program about where Oskar grew up bringing up all this… stuff?
I’d worked hard to build a life here, so why was I spending large parts of my day wondering when I could go back to Paso Robles when a big part of me felt like going home would be going backward?
I didn’t want to return to the heartbroken and naive girl who had left so many years ago. I didn’t want to go back and lose all the things I was proud of accomplishing. Nothing about home was simple.
Nothing.
I shut off the TV I wasn’t watching and looked at the pictures lining the back of my dresser. There was a picture of Josh, my grandmother, and me sitting on the front porch of the old house when I was in high school. My hair was longer, and my face still had the round fullness of youth. Josh was thinner and looked like he could grow a few inches. Grandma looked… strong. She had always been so strong.
Adele Rankin was strong enough to marry a man who had to leave for a war across an ocean only days after they married. She stepped in and ran the ranch for three years until Grandpa came back, a sadder and quieter man from all accounts.
There was another picture of my grandfather and Josh along with one of the few pictures I had of my father. Porter Rankin had lost my father—his only child—and my mother in a flash flood that killed them both when I was seven.
But despite their own grief, my grandparents kept on going, taking Josh and me in at the ranch along with all our anger and confusion. And throughout it all, they remained loving in their own ways. My grandma taught me how to ride a horse, shoot a shotgun, and bake a pie. My grandpa was fair to his workers, took pride in his small family, and welcomed anyone who came to his home.
I wondered if they would be proud of me now. I hoped so.
My phone chimed, signaling a text message.
Are you still awake?
It was Oskar. I looked at the clock. He must have just finished work. I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.
I called him. “Hey.”
“You sound sad. Are you okay?”
“Just feeling nostalgic. I was thinking about my grandparents. Looking at pictures.”
“Josh has told me a few stories. They sound like really good people.”
I smiled. “They were pretty amazing.”
“Did your grandmother really shoot wild pigs and coyotes?”
I chuckled. “Many times, city boy. One year we made tamales with meat from a wild pig she shot. Best tamales I ever had.”
“That sounds really good. I like tamales, but I’ve never made them. Victor’s grandmother says she’ll teach me, but I need to come to her house to make them with her.”
“I can teach you how to make tamales. It’s not that hard.”
“Yes, k?reste, but you would have to be around here to teach me, wouldn’t you? Come to think of it, that sounds like a great idea. How does tomorrow look for you?”
I avoided his question. “What did you call me?”
“Uh…” He laughed a little. “Just something in Danish. I won’t— It’s nice actually. It’s a nice name for a girl you like.”
“What was it?”
“K?reste.”
“Care-stuh?”
He laughed a little. “Yes. K?res. Te.”
“And it’s sweet? It’s not something embarrassing like ‘my little brussels sprout’ or something like that? My lovely fermented shark meat?”
Oskar laughed. “I promise, no.”
“So should I give you a cute nickname too?” I played with the edge of the blanket on my bed. “It should be something gastronomic. Pork chop? My tall leg of lamb? Maybe cupcake.” I grinned. “I like the sound of cupcake.”
Oskar muttered, “I thought you called me God? I’m confused now.”
I started laughing. “You cocky ass.” I loved it though. So quiet and so arrogant all at once.
“You screamed it a lot from what I remember.” His voice was wicked. “It’s an honest mistake.”
“It’s a good thing for you that I find cocky asses amusing.”
“All of them, or just mine?”
“Yours is a special ass.” I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. It was permanently affixed. “I’m pretty fond of it.”
“I’m quite fond of yours as well.”
“I got the distinct impression that you liked it.”
“I do like it. Are we going to have phone sex? That sounds like a fantastic idea. I might beg you to let me get home first. I’m having a hard time concentrating in the restaurant as it is.” He paused. “Did I tell you how hot that was?”
His voice did things to me when it got all low and husky like that.
“It was very hot.”
“I want to wrap myself around you and spend all day in bed. Maybe multiple days.”
My breath was hitching at his words, and I thought I might spontaneously combust if he kept going. “Oskar?”
“Yes, k?reste?”
I let out a sharp breath. “I forgot what I was going to say.”
He chuckled.
Cocky ass.
He said, “I should probably let you get to sleep. I need to get home anyway. I was sitting in my kitchen and thinking about you.”
“My work here is done. Bwahahaha.”
“Did you just evil-laugh at me? That wasn’t nice. Do I need to tell you in detail what I want to do to you on your desk?”
Yes, please.
“No, I’ll never get any work done.”
“Now you know how I feel.” He paused. “K?reste?”
“Cupcake?”
He chuckled. “You don’t sound sad anymore.”
I smiled again, and my eyes got a little watery. “I just miss them.”
“You sound tired. How was the restaurant, by the way? No kitchen action, right?”
“Definitely not, and it was forgettable. Nice young chef, but I don’t think he’ll last too long. I could be wrong.”
Oskar was blunt. “If he doesn’t last, he’ll learn and move forward. That’s the way you have to see things.”
“Were you always so smart?”
“Definitely not. Ask my sister.” His breath caught. “Actually, the thought of Hanna telling you about me is frightening. Pretend I didn’t say that.”
“No way.” I smiled. “You hear all the embarrassing stories about me from Josh. I should track your sister down and get all the dirt on you.”
“She wouldn’t dare. We’re very close, and I know where all her bodies are buried. Plus she wouldn’t want to threaten her only source of free manual labor.”
I suddenly imagined Oskar shirtless and lifting lumber for some reason.
I squeaked.
“Did you just squeak?”
I cleared my throat. “No.”
“What are you thinking about right now?”
I could feel my blush covering my face and neck. “Nothing. I’m thinking of nothing. I’m tired. Good night, Chef.”
“You’re lying, but you’re right. It’s late. I should get home too.”
“Oskar?”
“Yeah?”
“What are we doing here?” I closed my eyes and shook my head as soon as I asked the question. If I hadn’t been so tired and emotional, I wouldn’t have let that slip out.
“I don’t know.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not something I’ve ever done before. But I know I don’t want to stop. Do you?”
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Are we crazy?”
“I think that… whatever this is, it’s worth trying.”
“I do too.”
He breathed out heavily. “Good. Now go to bed and dream lusty, inappropriate dreams about me.”
The week flewby in a blur, I finished my profile of the chef in San Rafael, and did two other restaurant reviews. Octavia was pleased and was starting to make noises about sending me to the Petaluma area for a weekend trip.
Oskar was swamped with work. Other than a few text conversations and some silly emails, I hadn’t been able to talk to him all week.
I was talking with Talia on Sunday morning. She was having a lot of morning sickness. More accurately, she was having morning, noon, and night sickness.
“I just think it would be a good idea to call your doctor,” I said. “Because the internet is not a doctor.”
“I know. I just don’t want to spend the money on an extra visit. Babies are already pricey and?—”
“This is your health, Talia. At least go to urgent care maybe?”
I was trying not to be concerned, but I didn’t have a lot of experience with pregnant friends, so I didn’t know what was normal.
“If I’m not feeling better by tomorrow, I’ll call my doctor. Her office staff is really nice. The nurse might have some advice anyway. Now tell me about your breakfast with Austin.”
“I met him at that diner in the Castro. The one by my office? I told him I was seeing someone?—”
“In a theoretical sense, you are.”
“And the flowers absolutely had to stop.”
“Good. Firm. How did he respond?”
“He said he’d give me some time to think about it and looked like a kicked puppy.”
“He always looks like that. He looks like a sad blond Elvis, and not in a good way. Was his hair still puffy?”
I stirred my coffee and took a sip. “Yeah. I almost want to know what he uses because the volume is so good.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
The doorbell rang. My first thought was that Austin had started sending flowers again.
“Oh no.”
Talia asked, “Oh no, what?”
“Someone is at the door.”
“Probably Felipe?”
“No, he and Alan are in Napa this weekend.”
I really hoped it wasn’t more flowers. I walked to the front door, looked through the peephole, and gasped.
“Kelsey, what is it?”
“It’s good, it’s good. I have to go.” I immediately wrenched the door open.
Oskar was leaning on the frame of my front door, his arms flexed, his head at an angle, and a little smile curving the corner of his perfect mouth.
“Good morning, k?reste.”