Bonus Epilogue
TESS
Earlier that summer…
Wow. That is one big scowl.
I park my car in front of the duplex Amy Ellison showed me two weeks ago, my gaze locked on the surly man standing on the porch with her. AKA, my new neighbor. AKA, my project.
Behind me in his booster seat, August gasps. “Look at the dog!”
Naturally, my son would focus on the most innocent piece of this puzzle. Not the man with the wild mop of shoulder-length red hair and matching scraggly beard. Not Amy, grinning at me like nothing in this arrangement could possibly be uncomfortable. But the giant, mottled-brown dog with its tongue lolling out, zero thoughts in its head.
“It’s so cool,” August adds.
Right now, he thinks everything is cool . The sports car that cut us off on our way here was cool. His blue shirt he’s worn for three days straight is cool . Even the old scars on my forearms from oven burns have been deemed cool .
At least August is enthusiastic about our move out of my mom’s house. So far. I need to keep that positive attitude in place for as long as I can. Soon, he’s going to realize his grandma and aunt are across town instead of across the hall, and I expect his excitement to crumble like an over-baked cake.
But I can’t keep living with the rest of my family anymore. I’m thirty-two. I need to create a little space for August and me. And maybe get out from under my mother’s increasingly smothering wings.
I turn to face him. “Do you want to see your new room?”
His wide grin reveals two missing teeth. “I want to meet the dog!”
“Let’s wait to see if he’s friendly.” The dog looks a whole lot friendlier than the man, but you never know.
We climb out of my car, and Amy steps off of the porch to greet us.
“Good morning, you two!” She offers an open hand, and August slaps it in a high five. “I’m glad you’re here. Are you ready to get settled in?”
“I want to meet the dog!”
His little brain’s just got the one track this morning. Actually, mine does too: the scowl on the man watching us. He’s not exactly doling out warm fuzzies. I knew he wouldn’t be, I just wasn’t expecting a level-five glare in greeting.
Amy chuckles. “It’s good to have priorities. The dog’s a sweetheart. Let me introduce you to your neighbor first.”
We clamber onto the porch the two duplex units share. I gently hold August’s shoulder to prevent him from launching at the dog in a full-body tackle, but he’ll only wait so long.
“Tess and August, meet my nephew, Ian.” Amy gestures between the three of us. “Ian, these are two of the best people in Sunshine you’ll ever know.”
I flash a brilliant smile at Ian. In my experience, a little sweetness goes a long way. Whether in the bakery when the line is long and customers get twitchy or when August’s grumpy and doesn’t want to do his blood sugar tests, a warm smile and cheerful attitude can be infectious.
Ian seems to be immune. His scowl is a sweetness-repelling shield. He’s giving off strong Keep Out, No Trespassing vibes. Which is a little awkward, considering we’ll be sharing a duplex for the foreseeable future.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ian.” I use my customer service, This is the best day ever! voice. I get crickets in return.
“Mister, can I pet your dog?” August’s squirming at my side, but instead of the potty dance, he’s doing the I need to meet a new dog dance.
Ian drops his gaze to my son. Something inside me goes hard with the fear his unfriendliness will spill over onto August. The quickest way to kill my good nature is to be rude to my child. All my people-pleasing instincts evaporate, and Mama Bear takes over.
But by some miracle, Ian nods. August carefully holds out a hand for the dog to sniff. Once he gets the lick of approval, he moves on to gentle pets. He’s had a lot of practice meeting dogs at Sunshine’s parks.
“I don’t have much time today.” Amy holds out a Delish diner keychain to me. “Here are your keys. Trash and recycling pick up is on Wednesdays. If you have trouble with anything, you know where to find me.”
She steps off the porch and toward her sedan, but turns back, pointing at her nephew. “Ian, why don’t you help Tess and August carry their things inside? That’d be neighborly of you. ”
She winks at him, hops into her car, and drives away. Leaving me here with the least-neighborly guy I can imagine.
See, this is where my optimism and positivity sometimes bite me in the butt. When Amy offered me this apartment, I’d been too focused on the steeply discounted rent to ask much about the solitary nephew she’d mentioned. I’d only clarified that her request I try to befriend him didn’t have any romantic notions behind it. Now, I’ve got nothing but questions.
Like, Does he ever smile?
Is he trying to zap me into oblivion with his ice-blue eyes?
How long does he plan to give us the silent treatment?
“Come on, August.” I can’t spend all day on the porch working up anxiety about my neighbor. “Help bring your things inside.”
I unlock the front door and push it wide. It’s a simple, two-bedroom apartment filled with modern furniture with clean lines. We’re lucky to get it. I won’t let anything ruin this chance for us—including the man next door.
“Your bedroom’s the blue one,” I tell August. “Go take a look and then come help.”
I head out to my wagon, his “This is so cool!” echoing through the apartment. I open the hatch, and my heart jumps straight into my throat when Ian appears at my side like a lumbering bear.
I do not scream, but it’s hard to spin the awkward sound I make into a friendly greeting.
“Amy said I should help.” His voice is deep and gravelly, like he doesn’t use it often.
“Thank you. That’d be great.” I don’t care if he’s being neighborly or simply following through on duty to his aunt—we brought a lot of stuff. “Do you mind getting the biggest luggage?”
He hefts the giant bag out of the back as if it’s empty instead of stuffed to bursting with my clothes. His biceps flex beneath his short T-shirt sleeves like the guy never skips arm day. Which is not something I usually notice, but this close, they’re hard to miss.
I take a couple smaller bags and go into the house. My room is cozy and bright, with spots of orange and blue in the bedspread and rug giving it a sense of cheer. I love it.
I set my bags by the dresser, and Ian does the same with the bigger one. He glances around, looking out of place in the feminine room.
“Is your apartment pretty much the same?” I ask. I’m pretty sure Amy and Jodi used to let them out as short-term rentals.
His gaze cuts my way, skating over me in a quick assessment. “No.”
He shuffles from the room. Okay. This is going…not great. But I can do this. I’ve dealt with plenty of grumpy customers at my family’s bakery. Of course, those grumps don’t usually live next door to me.
I go out to the car for the next round, passing August, who’s already given up on unloading in favor of snuggling up with the dog on the porch. Ian’s at the back of my car like he’s waiting for his next instructions, so I try again.
“This is a great place out here. Do you do a lot of hiking on the trail?” Hiking seems like a good topic for small talk. A trail starts just past the duplex’s backyard.
“No.”
I suppress a sigh. Is this going to be like when August was three and “no” was his favorite word? At least when he got especially cranky, I could put him down for a nap. I don’t think my new neighbor would handle the suggestion well.
Ian drags a big box to the edge of the hatch, but I stop him.
“That one’s a beast.” It’s got my extremely expensive, extremely precious, extremely heavy mixer in it .
He cuts me a look like he and his giant biceps don’t appreciate the warning. He scoops it up without a struggle. Impressive . When I carry it around, I do a lot more grunting and sweating.
I grab the much lighter box of August’s Lego bricks, and trail Ian into the house.
“Where do you want this?” he asks in the living room.
“On the kitchen counter, please.”
I tuck August’s toys into his room and join Ian in the kitchen. “Amy says you haven’t been in town very long. Where did you live before?”
“Colorado.”
I wait for more, but he doesn’t offer more. “How do you like Sunshine?”
Apparently, my only goal in life is to smother this man with smiles and get him to talk to me in more than single sentences. We don’t have to become BFFs, but I have to hope we can reach some level of non-glaring social interactions one day. Otherwise, guilt over my too-cheap rent will crush me.
He hitches a shoulder. “It’s changed a lot since I was last here.”
“When was that?” I don’t remember ever seeing this man before. You’d think a guy who looks like he’d fit right in on a Viking boat ready to plunder a village would stick out more in my memory.
“About fifteen years ago. I worked as a rafting guide one summer.”
My triumph over him saying two sentences together pauses. Freezes. Slips away entirely.
Ian Vaughn. My heart somehow speeds up, slows down, and sinks into the crawl space beneath the duplex all in one go.
This can’t possibly be the same Ian. Amy never told me his last name, but now that I’ve connected the dots, it has to be him. Maybe the red hair should have sparked a memory, but he’s just so different , in every possible way. Back then, he’d been all breathtaking boyish good looks, and handed out wide smiles to everyone. I’d never seen anyone half so charming or enthusiastic. He’d effortlessly turned the summer before my senior year of high school into a twisted knot of unrequited infatuation.
My hands go clammy and my stomach floods with anxious moths, even though this Ian is nothing like the twenty-two year-old version I’d once crushed so hard on. I need to get it together.
We’re neighbors. The charm, smiles, and enthusiasm that used to make him sparkle have taken a back seat to frowns and dirty looks. And…I promised Amy I’d do my best to befriend him.
Cool. Cool, cool, cool.