Chapter 2
T he frigid March air felt wonderful as I strode down the lightly snow-covered sidewalk an hour later. Stress and anxiety tended to make my body heat up a million degrees. But within a minute, I was putting on my mittens and thick knit hat.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my thick coat, but I wasn’t about to take off my mittens to check it.
I could wait one more minute until I got home.
At least I lived near the restaurant where I’d met Hazel and Jeff.
I was basically within walking distance of everything in downtown Shipsvold, a tiny, charming town in southeastern Minnesota.
Downtown was less than a mile long and only a couple of blocks wide. And that was pretty much the town.
Sure, some Shipsvold residents—including Hazel and her new boyfriend, Peter—lived a distance away off the country roads.
And there was the fancy resort across the lake, which was a bit of a distance to walk uphill.
But thank goodness for that, because I wasn’t exactly great at committing to organized “exercise.” I did own a car, but it sat in my apartment building’s underground garage most of the time.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d driven anywhere.
Like most residents, I could walk or bike almost anywhere, even in the harsh winters, though I preferred to stay home as much as humanly possible.
When the icy two-minute walk was over, I slumped against the wall inside the foyer of my apartment building.
I didn’t remember today’s weather forecast being this brutal.
I’d grown up in the South but had lived in Minnesota for the last decade, so I should be used to this.
Winter here consisted of Christmas, New Year’s, and then at least three months of icy misery.
Maybe you never get used to it.
Too late, I spotted a tall, curvy blonde woman starting to open the door into the foyer, where the mailboxes were located, and I cringed under my heavy knit scarf.
Jenna Stirling was the most extroverted person I’d ever encountered, I was certain.
Before I could dash off in the other direction, she was in my face, squinting at me through her thick black lashes. “Is that … Roxy, is that you?”
I nodded reluctantly, pulling my scarf off my face and immediately regretted it as her rich amber perfume assaulted my senses. “Uh, hi—”
“I am so glad I caught you. We need to talk, like, yesterday.”
My brows furrowed. What could be so urgent?
Doesn’t matter.
Get out of there.
But before I could even begin to utter an excuse to run off, she put a hand on my right shoulder.
“Did you see that new guy who just moved in?” I shook my head, knowing she wasn’t really looking for an answer.
“His name is Roberto, and he’s freaking gorgeous, Roxy.
You would not believe what he was wearing when I bumped into him this morning in the gym. These shorts that barely covered—”
“Jenna, I really can’t—”
“Believe me, you’re going to want to hear this, hon. He didn’t just have a physique to die for, but his voice , like velvet,was the most sensual thing I’ve ever heard. I couldn’t resist asking what he was doing tonight.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Uh, probably unpacking? You said he just moved in.”
She elbowed me sharply and giggled. “Oh no, he has sons who will do all that. Yes, two sons! Can you believe it? A single dad. I mean, this is perfect for you, Rox. I made sure to tell him you’re single, and he—”
“Wait, you said what ? What … why me?” My brows furrowed as I frantically tried to process her words.
Why would a single dad be perfect for me?
Granted, I did enjoy children. Still, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted kids at all, considering my, er, deficiencies as a human being; I definitely wasn’t interested in some random guy’s kids.
“Well, I … I just assumed you might …” For once, Jenna seemed to struggle for words. Then she clapped her hands together as her full lips curved into a smile. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. If you’re not interested, I know someone else who is.”
Was she implying I was desperate? I mean …
I swallowed, wishing I could end this conversation immediately but knowing she’d just follow me. “You?”
She erupted into giggles, making her long earrings shake. “You know me too well. He’s almost young enough to be my son, but that’s never stopped me before, has it?”
I nodded weakly, unsure how to respond.
Think. Think fast.
“Well, that’s great for you. So, I need to go—”
Her long, thin eyebrows peaked with interest. “Oh, where are you off to? I’m not busy, so I could come along—”
Nope. Just no.
“I—work. I have to work. And then wax. In the, uh, all the places. I also have to clean out my—”
Jenna’s expression soured as she put her hand up to silence me. “OK, not right now. I’ll stop by later, all right?”
I opened my mouth to object. Then, just as fast as she’d appeared, she took off down the hall toward her apartment.
I let out a long exhale.
Way to go, you’re a sweaty mess again.
I groaned while trudging down the hall to my apartment. After entering and dropping my keys on the antique front entry table, I peeled off all the extra winter layers now sticking to me, sniffing them to discover that they did indeed need a wash now .
Just as the phone slipped from my pocket, I lunged forward and caught it inches before it hit the ground. Remembering I had a text or other notification, I brought it closer to my face and unlocked the screen.
Unknown number : Give me your email address. I’ll send my initial plans by tomorrow.
Ugh, the rude tone. It had to be Jeff. How’d he get my number? I couldn’t remember texting him before.
Oh, probably Hazel. I caught myself clenching my teeth while I added his number to my contacts and resisted the urge to reply, “Who is this?”
Roxy : YOUR initial plans? We’re supposed to be partners.
I waited a moment for him to respond, but when he didn’t, I abandoned the phone to the couch and took the four or five short steps to my bedroom to change.
My one-bedroom apartment wasn’t large by any means, but it was cozy and comfortable and just right for me.
Well, except for the bland white and tan walls—I should really get around to painting those.
After shedding my suffocating work clothes, taking a two-minute shower, and donning my favorite blue fuzzy pajama pants and top, I grabbed my laptop from my desk and sank into the couch.
Briefly, I considered doing some online shopping to look for a new couch because, let’s face it, this one was a bit worn from all the time I spent on it.
Especially this spot on the left side. The best side.
But before I could fire up an online search for furniture, my eye caught the red message indicator in the corner of the blue and green icon on the taskbar. The furniture search already abandoned, I clicked eagerly on the icon and waited for the fan forum app to open.
I hummed impatiently and brushed my thick, wet hair behind my ears as the app slowly started.
Five new notifications and a private message indicator appeared.
I smiled and licked my lips. This was the perfect way to blow off steam from this awful day.
I mean, it wasn’t the worst day I’d ever had, but I felt drained and stressed out just thinking about what the coming months would bring.
And somehow, she expected it done by New Year’s!
But not tonight, no more.
I’d had enough stress for one day.
Instead, I’d get lost in my favorite world.
Cast Afar had been my favorite show since it debuted two years ago.
At first I’d been skeptical that any show could be better than Lost— a similar but older show about strangers being stranded on a mysterious island—but I’d been dead wrong.
Cast Afar had all the great things about Lost and so much more.
The plot was intriguing and mysterious and made sense .
Don’t get me wrong; I absolutely loved Lost and its plot, but that series finale— ugh .
Cast Afar was nowhere near finished, and I fully expected several more seasons, all the way to an ending that wouldn’t make me want to scream at the TV.
OK, maybe not scream. Even when by myself, I was too quiet and reserved to do such a thing. Mostly.
A flicker of disappointment swept through my mind as my eyes scanned the lone private message. A forum member named IslandedHere wanted to ask, yet again, if I’d join the weekly virtual discussion group.
Instead of turning her down again, I ignored the message and clicked over to the discussion board.
I scrolled through the five new comments on my post about Mel’s shocking disappearance on the show and shook my head as I read.
The commenters were missing the point, I thought with gritted teeth, and then my eyes landed on the comment from CastGamer55 containing a detailed answer and partial agreement with my theory.
A grin stretched across my face as I set my fingertips on the keyboard. He gets it . My hands flew over the keys as I typed an enthusiastic response. Five paragraphs later, I sat back with satisfaction after posting the comment without hesitation.
Just as I rose to grab a drink from the kitchen, my phone buzzed, and I groaned. Fearing it was Jeff, I unlocked it reluctantly as I ambled over to the kitchen. But it wasn’t him.
Julia: Rox, how are you?! You better text me back this time!
Roxy: Hi. What do you mean??
Julia: You never replied to my text last weekend
Roxy: I distinctly remember texting with you for at least an hour last Saturday.
Julia: Yeah, but then you just went quiet
I leaned against the counter near the fridge and scanned my text history with her.
Before today, the last text from her was Saturday night when she said goodnight.
I started typing a response and then halted.
I’d forgotten this aspect of my friend Julia.
My only friend, really. She also had social anxiety, but it manifested differently than mine.
Quite different, actually. She became very anxious when someone didn’t reply to a communication of any kind.
Roxy: I’m sorry, I must have been tired
Julia: It’s OK ... how are ya?
Roxy: I’m fine. Ish.
Roxy: Actually, no. I’m not fine. Hazel just dropped the bomb that I have to work with Jeff the Jerk on a huge project!
Julia: Ohhhh, that accountant guy?
Roxy: Financial advisor, but yeah. Him. He’s the worst
Julia: Ugh, Rox, well you can vent to me anytime 3
Julia: Do anything fun today?
Roxy: Does banging out a 5-paragraph essay on Cast Afar on a casual discussion forum count?
Julia: LOL! For us, yes
Roxy: Why oh why can’t I have that kind of ease and confidence communicating with people in real life? It’s like I’m not even shy on the internet
Julia: Preaching to the choir, girl. I remember that first message board I introduced you to in college. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were a really outgoing person…
Roxy: Right? NO ONE from real life would ever believe SawyerRox4 is the shy mouse who can barely hold even an easy conversation with someone she knows.
Why was I this way? I had considered a million theories, such as genetics, parental influence, and even ADHD. Bad choices, even. But they never quite added up.
You’d think that I, as a former therapist, would be able to easily pin down the source of something as relatively common as social anxiety.
But self-assessment wasn’t easy—even for the experts.
And honestly, I hadn’t lasted long in the counseling field.
It was hard to believe I’d ever thought I could work as a mental health professional.
Not only did the profession require strong people skills, but the emotional fortitude and resilience necessary were far beyond what I possessed.
I sat back on the couch with my water bottle and a blueberry muffin and wondered why Julia was taking so long to respond.
Letting out a long exhale, I propped my feet up on the coffee table and leaned my head back.
What a day. Leaving my house to interact with people was nearly always exhausting, but today was brutal.
Julia: Sorry, gtg
Weird, she didn’t usually drop from conversations abruptly like that. Oh well. My eyes veered over to the open laptop next to me on the couch, but before I hauled it onto my lap, I remembered I should fire off a goodbye text to Julia, lest she worry about our friendship.
I finished the last of my muffin and brushed the sticky crumbs off my lap. My eyes lazily scanned over the new topics posted today, and a ping sounded from my laptop speakers. Eager to avoid this restless feeling creeping in, I clicked over to see the new message.
IslandedHere: Hello? I saw you posting something on the board. Didn’t you see my message?
Roxy: Sorry, no thanks. I’m not really into online meetings.
A strange response, for sure, but what else could I say?
I’d already tried using the excuses that I didn’t like Zoom, that my speakers didn’t work, that I was busy at the meeting time, and a few others.
Yet she still kept asking, apparently determined to have me join the discussion group.
And if it were a text chat thing, I probably would’ve.
Gladly. But I can’t do video chats. I won’t .
At least not willingly. The one time I’d joined an online event that IslandedHere hosted a few months ago, she hassled everyone to turn on their cameras, and I’d had to bail early.
It wasn’t really a physical insecurity that I could pin down.
I mean, sure, I have physical flaws like anyone, surely more than most people, but it wasn’t the reason for my debilitating shyness.
I wasn’t entirely sure why, as it didn’t seem genetic in my family.
In any case, my anxiety wasn’t about appearance so much as …
well, I just didn’t want people to see me talk.
Audio-only chat wasn’t my favorite either, but it was better than being on camera.
You’re really messed up.
I clenched my jaw, wishing I could silence the inner doubts that plagued me constantly. At least I’d managed to arrange my life so I could mostly avoid social interactions or, really, almost all in-person interactions. It worked for me.
Well, it used to work for me. Until Hazel dropped the bomb today. Now I was going to have to somehow work with the most difficult man I’d ever met. Hopefully he preferred text chat over other kinds of communication too.