Chapter 22 Julian #2
The rest of the hour is pure admiration for her honest intention to care for others, and gushing about where she grew up, which adds to it. She’s pure, with zero tolerance for fake ways of life.
“What’s next?”
“Meeting family.”
Right. I’m doing this. I already know that our versions of family are different. We both struggle to conceptualize how the other may be.
Savannah looks at me peculiarly. “Still on board?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking. That’s all.”
Her brows rise, and she searches my eyes. “It’s okay if you changed your mind. We are kind of… new.”
“Want to get rid of me?” She shakes her head. “Great. I have a bottle of wine in the back of my car, and I look forward to seeing how you introduce me to your aunt.”
She sputters a laugh, and that’s a good start.
I checked into the inn and was impressed by the antique furniture and smooth wooden floors. The four-bedroom inn was quiet, and no signs of children since they have a no-young-kids policy—a win for me. Also, I appreciate how private the place is.
We took my car, and I listened to Savannah’s directions.
“This is Everhope Road,” she announces as we turn. A woman pushing a stroller waves to Savannah. “That’s Hailey, a neighbor. Her daughter must be walking by now. She secretly married her brother’s best friend. The whole town found out on the Riverbell,” she chirps happily.
I slow the car when she points to a house up on the left. The houses on the street are not cookie-cutter; each has its own charm, although they’re all updated and kept in good standing: no overgrown yards, flowers on porches, and a lot of flags.
“What’s the deal with the flags?”
“It’s for the high school. One of the coaches lives down the street. It’s baseball season now, but during football season, whoa. Everyone in town heads to a Friday-night game. They’re quite good and made state three years ago.”
My lips quirk out. “Impressive. We didn’t have anything like that in high school.”
“You mean when dinosaurs roamed the earth?”
I manage to let a hand loose from the wheel and pinch her side for that remark. “Easy there, you might regret that later.”
She fakes her pain. “Fine. In all seriousness, though, I don’t particularly see football being a thing at boarding school.”
A dull ache in my stomach comes to fruition, as I sometimes forget about it.
“I mean, there was. Crew, lacrosse, and hockey were more of a thing. Cold parents and pretentious parties were a bonus.” I have zero good memories from that time, except for some great parties when somebody’s parents were away on vacation.
As we come to a standstill, I feel her fingers affectionately feathering my wrist with my hands on the wheel. “I can’t imagine. You survived, at least.”
“Joy.”
With the car parked and the engine off, I observe the ranch-style home. I can already tell that the house is well-kept, as the door seems new and the paint is recent. Savannah inhales a deep breath and blows out her exhale. “Okay.”
I shift in my seat to get a better view of Savannah and see that she’s nervous. A man could easily fear that one is embarrassed to introduce their partner, but in this case, it’s Savannah trying to figure out her words.
“I told her that you were passing through town because you had to meet a client out in Lake Spark. She’s expecting you.
Except not… as, well… she isn’t judgmental, but ‘oh hey, I’m sleeping with my boss’ might cause her to be.
” Savannah twists the strap of her purse on her lap.
“I’m not sure why a person with two degrees can’t come up with a plan of action for this, but I can’t. ” She’s talking to herself.
It’s time for me to take things into my own hands.
I quickly lean through the gap in the middle console and grab the bottle of wine from the back before I open my car door with enthusiasm, energetically close it, and round the car to the passenger door.
Opening it, I offer Savannah my hand. “Let me deal with this.”
When Savannah is eye level with me, I simper. “Come on.”
We walk up the front path to the stoop. Ringing the doorbell, we wait, and I again take in my surroundings. I notice a neighbor across the street with a bizarre mailbox, and I tilt my head in a few different ways to try to evaluate what I'm seeing.
“Trust me, I still haven’t figured out why they keep their mailbox like that. They used to be neighbors who hated each other and crucified each other’s mailboxes. They’re married now, but apparently, they like the nostalgia of their passionate outbursts.”
“Hmm. Not a crazy idea. Understandable.” We can relate, even.
She gives a little wiggle of her fingers in the air to a car slowing down to turn onto a driveway next door.
“Who’s that?” I wonder.
She smiles brightly. “That’s Elodie’s mom.
Remember, we grew up as next-door neighbors.
She’ll probably text Elodie before we even manage to get inside.
Something tells me she won’t let it go that I’m standing in front of my aunt’s house with a man with a sports car who resembles her daughter’s boss. ” She chews on her bottom lip.
The wheels of this day could quickly spin out of control, to be honest. A lot of eyes are on us in this town. It could be a distraction if we’re not careful.