18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
S till floating on a cloud, I woke up just before dawn. Stretching my arms and legs under my soft sheets and still basking in the afterglow of last night with Gregory, I decided to be ambitious and rise for an early morning run. When I wasn’t running with Jack, I usually procrastinated and delayed training runs until the afternoon, but after temperatures hovering around zero for the past few days, the afternoon was predicted to become unseasonably warm and, since this was Minnesota, overly humid.
On my way out, I stopped at Jack’s door.
“Good morning! Am I too late to go running with my best friend this morning?” I asked cheerfully.
“Really, what gave it away?” he said with a laugh, looking down at his running clothes and wiping his brow. “Sorry, it’s another busy work week, so I’ll likely be running around 5 a.m. most days. Probably too early for you?”
“ Five ? You know me. Five is definitely too early. Here I was feeling proud of myself for getting up at 6:30 to run on a weekday,” I said, still smiling.
He looked at me thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over my face, which was devoid of makeup except perhaps some black smudges around the eyes from yesterday. “So what’s a beautiful smile doing on your face at this hour on a Wednesday?”
I flushed and lowered my lashes. I was unused to hearing the word “beautiful” to describe me, other than by my parents, although having Gregory admit to an attraction to me had considerably boosted my confidence in recent days. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably just a fluke. You know me.”
“Hey, whatever it is, I’ll take it.” He chuckled. “It’s just nice to see you happy, Vivi.”
I impulsively leaned forward and stretched my arms around to his back. But before he could raise his arms to hug me back, I jumped back just as quickly.
Awkwardness brewed within me, inexplicably, and I offered the first explanation that entered my mind. “Oh, sorry, I’d forgotten what it’s like to smell runner sweat on someone else when I’m not soaked in it myself.” I winced, hoping that didn’t sound as rude to him as it did to me.
His mouth twisted into a wry smile as he crossed his glistening arms over his chest. “Always appreciate your honesty, Vivi.”
“Anyway, I …” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes briefly. “Jack, I’m just glad that whatever that weirdness was in the past few weeks—I’m glad it seems to be gone. I want my best friend back. It’s OK that you’re super busy. I’ll wait, and then we’ll need to have a ridiculously long catch-up session. Or several.” I paused and then grinned. “After all, I’m sure you miss being forced to watch Austen movies with me at least once a week.”
“How’d you know?” He laughed and nudged my elbow with his. “All right, off with you then. I need to wash up and get some work done, and you need to get your miles in. Less than two weeks until race day! Thanks for stopping over, Vivi.”
As I turned and walked down the short hallway, I thought about the few words exchanged but also the importance they signified. Our friendship was fine, and we didn’t need to have a long, drawn-out conversation to figure that out.
It’s easy, we’re Jack and Vivi.
I smiled, taking a few steps outside into the already warm, sticky air. Upon seeing my elderly neighbor approaching, I walked back to the door to hold it open for him.
“Why thank you, Vivian,” said the short, pale, white-haired man as he walked slowly to the door. “It pains me that I can’t open doors for you though, girl. It’s what a man is meant to do.”
“You’re most welcome, Mr.—”
“Oh, I always say, you can call me Samuel. None of that Mister nonsense.” Thank goodness he interrupted me, as I was never certain I would remember his name correctly, even though he usually got mine wrong.
My smile was bright as I nodded. “Samuel, I hope you are feeling well today? It seems quite hot for March.”
“Heavens, yes, it’s miserable. But I had to come out here because I saw from my window that Elouise’s cat had escaped again. That darn thing will be the death of me. If something else doesn’t get me quicker.” He laughed then, as though the idea of his death was hilarious. “But you know I couldn’t let it go. Elouise would be so heartbroken.”
I nodded sympathetically. Elouise was a quirky older woman who lived down the hall from him—and from Jack and me—for as long as I could remember, and likely far longer. I imagined they must be madly in love, but I had yet to see any concrete evidence of a romantic relationship, and they obviously lived apart. Still, they always looked out for one another, and when I’d seen them together, their eyes shone with a simple joy and peace that I’d never seen between any two adults, apart from maybe my parents. They were probably just discreet; Samuel was rather traditional, while Elouise was anything but. Or perhaps Samuel was allergic to her cats.
“I’m still confused about how the cat escapes though,” I admitted. “He must climb out the window and down from there, somehow. I doubt he’s figured out how to open doors or travel by elevator.”
“Indeed, indeed.” Samuel nodded. “I won’t keep you, Vivian. I’m sure you have more important things to do than talk to an old man.”
My smile widened. “What could be more important than that?”
He patted my arm and chuckled. “Ah, well, you’ve a lovely smile, made this old man very happy this morning. Now run along and have a nice day.”
I said farewell and began to walk toward the trail. For a few moments I breathed in the fresh, albeit humid air and exhaled contentedly as I observed the signs and sounds of spring in the city. Spring was my favorite season; it was a time of rebirth. Being in love at Samuel’s age was a bit like the spring. After a long winter of loneliness that seemed to never end, with his wife having died decades ago, he’d found someone to make him happy again, or so it appeared. Samuel and his capacity for love and joy were reborn, even in his late stage of life. I only hoped I’d one day find happiness too. And love.
Perhaps I was well on my way.
Grinning, I began running once I reached the trail. I realized I was grateful to be running by myself this morning; I would have uninterrupted time to think about Gregory, to replay last night’s kisses in my mind repeatedly and, of course, to imagine all the kisses to come. Among other important things.
My perma-smile faltered when some unwelcome thoughts came to mind: Brandon’s odious behavior—and whether I should tell Annie. I’d sent a text asking if Annie was feeling better earlier today but hadn’t heard back from her.
Should I tell her? Should I confront him?
Not now.
No, I wasn’t going to worry about it yet. I wouldn’t allow it to ruin my morning.
As I reached the halfway point and turned to run back toward home, I wiped my damp brow and started thinking ahead to the literary convention. I should probably call my father and arrange to see him there. He would probably prefer a private meeting, as he liked to avoid crowds. Dad, otherwise known as Mark Jamison, attended such events mostly anonymously, even wearing a silly disguise and using the name Dr. Carroll, which was neither his real name nor his pen name. I didn’t entirely understand why my father went to such great lengths to stay under the radar, though it stemmed partly from his aunt’s difficulty navigating the writer life as one of the few introverts in the family. Occasionally, someone would recognize him, but he’d largely been successful in avoiding widespread attention at most industry events in the past. Or so I’d heard, as I hadn’t attended them myself.
When I returned home, I took a moment to freshen up but decided to postpone showering so I could call my father right away. After soaking a hand towel in ice water, I ambled over to the couch and sat down, placing the towel on my neck as I gulped down a sports drink. Once I no longer felt like I’d spent the day in a sauna, I pressed my dad’s profile photo on my phone to call him.
“This is an honor, sweetie,” my father said, a subtle question in his voice.
“Hi, Dad. I’m sorry it’s been a while since I called. Life has been a bit crazy lately,” I confessed.
“Oh, you know I don’t mind, sweetie,” my father assured me. And I believed him, since he was even more introverted than I was. Phone calls, even from close family, weren’t at the top of his list of things to do.
“So, I have some big news, Dad! I’ll be attending the convention in Duluth this coming weekend. I know you never miss those, so I figured it’d be a great chance to see each other.”
After a moment of silence, he responded, “Ah, I’m happy to hear it, sweetie. To what do we owe this honor? Is it a work thing?”
“Sort of … not exactly,” I admitted. “I’m attending with someone I know through work, kind of, but our relationship is not a professional one. It’s, um …”
“A new friend? Boyfriend?”
“Neither,” I said nervously. “But we’re sort of seeing each other … I think.”
“You think?” He paused. “Well, I’m sure your mother and I would be honored to meet him, but if you think it’s too soon, that’s also fine. I can observe surreptitiously from afar, you know.”
I laughed. “Sure, whatever you’d like. Maybe let’s see how things go, and I’ll let you know if I’m feeling up to a meeting. Meeting the parents is, you know, not something to take lightly.”
Especially not when one of those parents is a famous person, albeit one who is well hidden from the public eye .
“Have you booked your travel and room, then? If not, you could drive up there with us,” he said, his tone hopeful.
“I haven’t, actually. Gregory said he’d send me the hotel details, so I hadn’t given much thought to it yet. But … I’d be happy to ride along with you, Dad, if you don’t mind going a little out of your way to pick me up. Or maybe I could just drive to your house the night before,” I added, not wanting to inconvenience him.
“Sure, sweetie. Whatever you’d like.” He paused briefly. “Listen, I’d love to catch up with you more, but if we’ll be seeing you later this week, we can save it until then.”
He’d never pass up a chance to avoid a lengthy phone call. “Sure, Dad. Tell Mom I said ‘hi’!”
Upon hanging up, I put up my feet and arranged an old throw pillow behind my back. As I stretched out my tired, aching muscles, I realized the travel arrangements had barely entered my mind. Gregory hadn’t planned on driving me there. He probably had a first-class airline ticket booked already, or maybe he had a private jet. I probably also needed to book my own room; he likely hadn’t planned on sharing a room with me, or he’d have told me already.
Don’t get ahead of yourself , I told myself silently. Must keep cool to avoid scaring him—he doesn’t need to know that you’ve projected onto him more than a decade of hopes and dreams for finding your own Mr. Darcy!