11. eleven
eleven
Brooks
When I’d decided to put Jonah’s advice to the test and spend more time at home with my family, I knew that meant I’d have the chance to see Nora again, too. Little did I know that on my first night staying over at the twins’ house, they’d successfully drag me to a public market under the guise of supporting local artists . And by local artists, they meant one artist, specifically. I couldn’t have planned this better myself.
I may not have nieces or nephews of my own yet, but it’s always a good time when my teammates bring their kids around. I find most kids to be endearingly honest and hilarious, and they generally seem to like me, too. So far, Ollie and I seem to be getting along great.
Ollie suddenly lurches towards a truck selling kettle corn, and we have no choice but to veer in that direction.
“I want some popcorn!” Ollie says breathlessly, letting go of my hand.
“Let me,” I say.
“No, really, it’s okay,” Nora says.
“I’ve got it,” I say again, and Nora smiles gratefully. “What do you want, Ollie?” I ask. He points to the bags of popcorn in the truck window. “Do you like the sweet or the salty kind?”
“Sweet!” he says.
“We’ll take a bag of kettle corn, please,” I say through the truck window. Before the bag has even fully been placed in my hands, Ollie is chanting for popcorn and reaching towards me.
“Should we find a place to sit?” I ask, gesturing to the picnic tables set up in an open area. There’s a musician strumming mellow songs on her guitar and lights strung up around the seating area. The autumn air is brisk but fragrant with spices and smoke from the vendors behind us. I couldn’t have picked a more romantic setting if I tried.
Maybe I should enlist the help of my sisters more often. They seem to know what they’re doing.
Once we’re seated across from each other at a table, Ollie immediately starts shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.
“A man after my own heart.” I find Nora watching me with a shy smile, and I smile right back. “You’re still not a big popcorn fan?”
“Not usually,” she says, pulling the sleeves of her jacket down over her hands. “Because it always gets stuck–”
“In your teeth?” I finish for her, grabbing a handful of popcorn for myself. “Yeah, I remember.”
I still remember a lot of things about Nora Foster. I remember the snacks I used to pick up for her at the gas station, and the things she had strong opinions about. Like popcorn. And hats. She always did love her hats.
Now that we’re seated so closely at this table, I also find it easy to recall the way her velvety lips felt on mine when we kissed, and man, did we kiss a lot.
I wonder if she remembers those parts of our shared past when she looks at me, or if I’m the only one who has held on to those fragments of us that she let go of long ago.
Nora glances at something over my shoulder and then ducks her head down, smiling.
“Don’t look now,” she says in a low tone. “But everyone is staring at you.”
I chance a glance to my left and realize she’s right. I hear my name in hushed conversations from the tables around us. I’d been so caught up in Nora and Ollie I hadn’t even thought about getting recognized.
“Dang. You guys must have blown my cover.”
“Don’t blame us for your terrible disguise. The hat doesn’t hide much.”
“Really? I was hoping it would help me keep a low profile.”
“It’s a Stormbreakers hat. You should have at least picked something a little more subtle.”
“These are the only hats I own, okay?” I say with a laugh, my hand colliding with Ollie’s as we both reach for the popcorn at the same time. “After you, good sir.” Ollie giggles and drops more popcorn into his mouth. My gaze catches on Nora’s again, and a surge of nerves races through me. Is she testing me with Ollie? Am I passing? I hope I’m not entirely blowing this.
“Well, since my hat’s not doing me much good anyways, I guess I’ll just give it to you, little man.” I remove my hat and plop it on Ollie’s head. It dwarfs him, slipping down over his eyes.
“You look cool, dude!” Nora says, lifting the hat so he can see again. “Did you know that Brooks is a real baseball player?”
Ollie nods excitedly. “I play, too.”
“You do? Let me guess…you’re a real good hitter,” I say.
“I throw,” Ollie says.
“Ahh. A pitcher, then. Bet you can throw some solid curveballs.”
He then yanks my hat off his head and slaps it on Nora’s instead.
“Oh, thank you, love,” she says before quickly taking it off and holding it out to return it to me. “Here.”
There must be something in the popcorn because a sudden boldness gathers within me. This is my chance to let Nora know that a not-so-chance meeting at the farmer’s market isn’t going to be the last time we see each other. Being this close to her feels surreal. If I want my deepest hidden hopes to become a reality, I can’t let her slip through my fingers again.
“You can keep it,” I say, reaching across the table and carefully settling my hat on her head. She looks up at me with her wide, brown eyes, and I’m sixteen again, fitting my hat on her head before tipping her chin up to kiss her.
My fingers linger on the edges of the hat as she stares back at me from across the table. She looks gorgeous in it, with her long, dark hair twisted back into a bun underneath.
“You already gave me one of your hats,” she says softly. “I still have it, actually.”
Why does that knowledge make my throat knot? It’s proof that some small piece of me had remained with her, even during the years we’ve been apart.
“You can add this one to your collection,” I say with a grin, feeling my confidence grow after her admission.
“Cool dude, Mom!” Ollie says loudly, mouth full of popcorn. His little voice slices through the tension between us.
“You have to keep it now,” I say. “It ups your cool factor.”
“Tell you what,” she says, adjusting the brim of the hat down over her brow and looking so adorable I have to swallow and resist the urge to take a picture. “I’ll trade you for it.”
I’m intrigued. Are kisses on the table? Because looking over at her wearing my hat makes me suddenly ravenous. We were so inexperienced when we were teenagers, but I can still remember how sweet she tasted. I’ll bet she’d taste just as good now.
I’d love a chance to test this theory.
“When we go back to my booth, you can pick out the mug I promised you,” she says. I shouldn’t feel disappointed by her offer.
“That’s not a fair trade. I didn’t even buy this hat.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to return it to you.” Nora moves to pull it off her head.
“No, keep it. Please. It looks better on you, anyways. Right, Ollie?”
“Right,” he agrees, reaching out for a high-five. I may not be a parent or know much about kids, but I think Ollie and I are off to a pretty good start. Nora looks up at me shyly from below the brim of the hat, and I want to lean across the table and kiss the two pink dots I see appearing on her pretty cheeks.
The twins’ eyebrows practically reach their hairlines when we return to the booth and they see Nora wearing my hat. Why are they still here? They don’t have anything better to do than to hover around to see what happens? I try to send them a telepathic message to get lost, but they clearly don’t get it because they both stay put as we enter the tent.
“Cute hat, Nora,” her sister, Sydney, says.
“Make sure he signs it so you can sell it later,” Claire adds.
“He tried to give it to Ollie, and Ollie pawned it off on me,” Nora explains, blushing. I like it so much I’m tempted to keep teasing her just to keep that pink flush on her cheeks.
Claire kneels down and starts talking animatedly with Ollie, who offers her some of his coveted popcorn. I’m suddenly doubting our seemingly easy rapport. Maybe he’s just friendly with everyone.
“Okay,” Nora says, leading me to the shelf of ceramics on the left side of the tent. “You don’t have to take a mug. You can choose anything you like. Are you an indoor plant kind of guy?”
“Uh…no.”
“Do you like to cook? Or bake?”
“Cook? Nah. I like to eat. And drink. What’s this?” I ask, picking up a tiny white dish.
“That’s for jewelry,” she says. I hear one of my sisters cough behind me, which coincidentally sounds a lot like the word idiot .
“Don’t think I’d have much use for that, unfortunately. But it’s lovely.” I lean closer to the mugs, perusing my options and feeling an appreciation for what Nora was able to do in crafting them. I pull a tall, sandy brown mug from the shelf and inspect it, running a thumb over the handle.
“I’ll take this one if that’s alright, but I’m happy to pay you for it.”
“No deal,” Nora says stubbornly, taking the mug from my hands. I locate the sign she’s got hanging up with the pricing for her items.
“I have to pay for it,” I say. “It’s twenty-eight dollars. I’d be betraying my number if I didn’t.”
Nora suddenly flushes and clears her throat, moving to the table to wrap the mug in tissue paper and package it up for me. “You’re not paying for it, okay? End of discussion. There’s a little card in here with care instructions,” Nora says as she slips the wrapped mug into a brown paper bag. “You can put the mug in the dishwasher, but it’s better if you wash it by hand.”
“That must have been where I went wrong with the last one you gave me. I always put it in the dishwasher,” I say without thinking. Nora freezes, her brows folding.
“Wait,” she says. “You kept that? The mug I made you in ceramics class in high school?”
I swallow, feeling caught. That mug had survived up until a couple weeks ago when Miles Aguilar dropped it in my kitchen. The bugger knew it was my favorite mug and always used it when he was at my house just to irritate me. He felt awful when it shattered and offered to buy me another one, but I’d told him not to worry about it, thinking it was irreplaceable.
“That was the mug Miles broke,” I say in a low voice, and it takes everything in me to meet her eyes as the truth falls from my lips. “It was my favorite.”
“It was?” she squeaks, looking flustered as she adjusts the brim of my hat on her head.
“Yeah,” I say. I like talking to her at this intimate volume. Makes me feel like I could say anything I wanted to right now and get away with it. “Promise I’ll take better care of this one. I’ll listen to you this time.”
She looks up at me then, and there are questions in her eyes. Somehow what I said feels deeper than a comment on the proper way to care for hand-crafted ceramics. It feels like in accepting this gift from her, I’m telling her I won’t break her heart again. I’m more careful now.
“I hope you use it well. Just keep it away from Miles, okay?”
“Will do.” She hands me the bag, and our fingertips brush. She looks up at me, and I’m startled again by just how beautiful she is. She’s always been pretty, but time has been good to her. Years of experience, smiling, and laughter have creased into lines around her eyes and mouth. She looks like the same Nora I fell in love with as a teenager, but she’s also different in time-weathered ways.
“It’s good to see you, you know, in person,” I say in that same, soft tone we’ve been speaking in to cut the gossiping nosies out of our conversation. “It’s way better than texting.”
“I agree.” She smiles.
“I’d like to see you again,” I say, even more quietly, and Nora’s eyes dart up to mine in surprise. “If that’s okay.”
She studies me for a moment before answering. I like the way her eyes stay locked on mine.
“I’d like that,” she finally replies.
“I’ll text you. Make sure when you text back, you actually hit that little button on your screen that says ‘ send .’”
Nora’s mouth tips up into a smile. “I thought I had, okay? I’m sorry!”
“That’s what they all say,” I tease. “See you soon?” I say, phrasing it like a question.
“Like…how soon?” she asks. “I’d love a little heads-up next time. So I can…you know. Put on some makeup. Fix my hair.”
“No need. Just wear my hat again. It looks good on you.”
I swear she’ll never look me in the eye again if I keep this up. I don’t even have to think before I speak with Nora. It’s like muscle memory. I know how to do this. We know how to do this.
“When will you be back in town?” Nora asks. “You should come by the diner. You can censure my employees for what they did.”
“What did they do?” I ask, confused. Nora sucks in a breath, her brown eyes growing wide.
“Gosh,” she says, briefly closing her eyes. “I meant to tell you…” She sighs deeply, then stands up straighter and meets my gaze sheepishly. “So…you know how you got my number on your takeout box after you came in last time? Well…this is so embarrassing.”
“What is it?” I lean in even closer, fully intrigued.
“It wasn’t me,” Nora admits with a grimace. “I didn’t give you my number. One of my servers wrote my number on the takeout box and gave it to you without telling me.”
She looks up at me almost fearfully. I don’t know what she was expecting me to do in response to this, but I don’t think it was to start laughing. Her shoulders visibly drop in relief.
“Wait,” I say. “It was that ginger kid, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was him. That’s why I didn’t text you back immediately. I thought someone was playing a prank on me. There was no way it was actually you texting me. That would’ve been too good to be…”
She stops herself, suddenly very busy with folding sheets of already folded tissue paper. Her honesty is so endearing. “I had to tell you the truth. It wasn’t me who was brave enough to write my number on your box. Next time you come to the diner, you can give the server who did it a thorough set-down,” Nora says.
“You sure I shouldn’t be thanking him?” I say with a grin. “How else would we have gotten back in touch? Maybe I should come by just to shake his hand.”
She laughs. “We don’t want to encourage him.”
“Maybe we do.” We share a laugh. I don’t want to leave here tonight without ensuring she knows that I’ll be back soon.
“I’m heading back up to Seattle tonight,” I say. “But I’ll be back next weekend…and pretty much every weekend after that until the new year. My agent thinks it would be good for me to get some space from things. Clear my head. Spend my weekends doing things other than baseball.”
“Oh, really?” Nora breathes. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”
“With the twins,” I grit out. “They covered every inch of the walls of their guest room in posters of kittens when they heard I was coming.”
Nora laughs, her nose crinkling adorably. “You’re allergic, right?”
“Deathly allergic. I woke up sneezing this morning. I don’t think my brain can tell the difference.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious,” she says, and the sound of exclamations and voices interrupt our conversation. More customers are pouring into the tent, and I take that as my sign that it’s time to let Nora get back to work.
“Before I go, could I buy a few more mugs?” I ask. She looks up at me in surprise. “So my teammates will stop using mine when they come over.”
“Really?” she asks. “I mean, of course! Just tell me which ones you want.”
She gets tied up in a conversation with an older couple I recognize as the McConnells, who run the local post office. After I select three more mugs, Sydney helps me package them up and takes my payment.
“Thank you,” she says, smiling at me like I just bought their entire stock. Maybe I should next time.
Nora catches my eye, and she gives me a hope-filled smile that fills me with determination. I’ve got to see her again. Soon.
“See you later, Ollie.” He gives me a little wave, and I like knowing that Nora’s eyes are most likely following me as I retreat. My sisters finally decide to get the memo that my time with Nora is up, quickly saying their goodbyes before following me back to my car.
I brace myself for the onslaught of their inevitable, opinionated commentary. They do not disappoint.
“You gave her your hat ? In public?” Caroline says. “I like it. Staking your claim.”
Claire doesn’t let me answer before she blurts out, “So, what did she say? Does she want to see you again? Did my plan work?”
They trail behind me back to my Tesla in the parking lot, chattering on and asking questions that I choose not to answer.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Claire says, shutting the passenger-side door. “You did well tonight. But listen to me, Brooks. You’ve got one job from here on out, okay? Are you listening?”
I don’t even bother looking her way, knowing some wisecrack is coming whether I choose to acknowledge it or not.
“Don’t you dare do anything to screw this up,” Claire says, jabbing a finger into my bicep. “Got it?”
“Mmhmm,” I say, grinning to myself at the mental image I took of Nora wearing my hat. “Got it.”