CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Van
There was a half-inch space along the edges of the window where the blinds didn’t meet the frame flush.
The mis-measure allowed brilliant sunshine to enter from the outside.
I immediately thought of Evan and how angry he would’ve been if I’d done the measuring.
His perfectionist personality was a difficult trait to live with.
Despite the spacing of the blinds, the room was dim, but there was no denying that the snow had ended. I ran a hand across the sheet next to me to find Chip, but he wasn’t in bed. I sat up and noticed the door was closed, Pooch no longer in the bedroom either.
Hurrying out of bed, I pulled gym shorts on along with an old University of Washington sweatshirt I’d packed for when I was hanging out in hotel gyms. So far, other than the night in Spokane, I’d been sharing a cabin in the woods with a not so strange to me now stranger.
The bedroom was chilly, but as soon as I opened the door, a rush of warmth greeted me. “Whoa,” I muttered, figuring I wouldn’t need the sweatshirt with a roaring fire burning in the fireplace.
“Take that off, handsome,” Chip greeted from the kitchen. “You’ll sweat to death.”
He went back to stirring the contents of a ceramic bowl. I came up behind him, wrapping him in my arms. The room smelled of cinnamon and bacon. A weird combo for sure, but those were the scents I’d noticed.
“I don’t see the bacon, but I sure can smell it,” I said, nuzzling the back of his ear.
“I bake mine,” he explained. “Less greasy and far crispier that way,” he added, spinning around and moving my hands to behind his neck like we were about to slow dance. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a rock until I noticed you weren’t in bed with me.”
He jacked a thumb over his shoulder toward the focal point of his kitchen, the tiny window above the sink.
“See outside?” I nodded and mumbled confirmation that I had.
“Sunshine and zero clouds,” he reported.
“Which means I gotta open the mercantile. That’s why I’m making you a big breakfast so you can relax today while I’m working. ”
“I’m going with you,” I stated. “I need to earn my keep.”
“You did yesterday,” he teased, fondling my semi-hardness while making suggestive faces at me.
“True, but you didn’t fuck me last night like you threatened to do.”
The goofy expression on his face disappeared, and he turned back to the kitchen counter. I worried I’d been too forward. Remembering we’d only snuggled the night before, I was curious about the shift in his lust for me.
“You seemed exhausted after dealing with Mrs. Hatfield,” he replied. “She can be a handful, so I get it.”
My thoughts differed from his explanation. In my insecure mind, he was probably thinking about this James guy all night after we returned home. Perhaps Sadie reminding him of the upcoming dinner had cooled his jets concerning me.
I understood the attraction to Sadie’s grandson, even if I’d never seen him.
Chip obviously knew him from the past, and whether James was hot as a teenager.
So naturally, I assumed he was majorly hot.
The guy was going to be a doctor and wanted to reconnect.
Why wouldn’t Chip be excited about seeing him again?
“I enjoyed visiting with Sadie,” I began. “But you sort of quieted down when we came back to the cabin. I’m wondering if my intrusion of your space is bothering you.”
“Of course not!” he exclaimed. “I invited you to stay.”
He didn’t turn around, basically confirming in my head that he was uncomfortable with the discussion. I stood behind him quietly; the silence adding to my belief about James’s upcoming visit.
“I’ll be gone before Christmas Eve, so you won’t miss the dinner,” I stated softly. “You’re right; it’d be uncomfortable for me to be here when James visits.”
He quickly spun around. “I never said it’d be fucked up when he came to town,” he defended.
“I didn’t say fucked up, Chip.”
He tossed the spatula into the sink and walked to the fireplace. I’d pushed a button. This was a feeling I was far too familiar with. When Evan didn’t want a confrontation, he’d walk away and leave me to accept I was the problem. The similarity freaked me out.
“I said uncomfortable,” I corrected, moving next to him.
“Fucked up. Uncomfortable. Whatever. But I never said that, or meant that, Van,” he appealed, standing and facing me. “But I did forget he was coming, and I’d promised I’d go there for Christmas Eve.”
“And I simply said I’ll make it easier by making sure I leave before then.”
This was the time in my past when, if I continued arguing my point with Evan, there’d be hell to pay. Historically, Evan absolutely refused to be questioned and never wanted to explain his position other than to say he was right.
Chip reached a hand toward one of mine. I accepted his kind gesture, relieved that he may be a tad more mature than my ex. We stared into each other’s eyes; his were damp, and he appeared serious.
“I do not want you to leave,” he whispered, daring me to look away from his locked-on gaze. “And truthfully, I don’t know why I feel so strongly about that.”
I slowly exhaled. Relieved, I suppose. His words weren’t what I expected. The honesty and heartfelt tone of his voice stabbed at my heart. He’d voiced that he didn’t want me to leave. Not many men had the ability to be so vulnerable.
“And truthfully,” I parroted. “I don’t know why I feel so strongly about wanting to stay, but I do.”
“Just to be clear. I’m not thinking about James twenty-four-seven,” he clarified. “I wasn’t even thinking of him before you showed up in Missile. Who I am thinking about twenty-four-seven… is you.”
I swallowed hard at his declaration. The confirmation he felt exactly like I did sent me over the moon with happiness.
My focus was also on him and what I was going to do after Christmas.
Fear had convinced me, as usual, that I wasn’t good enough for this man, or certainly not able to compete with the grandson of someone he’d known his entire life. A doctor-to-be, no less.
I squeezed his hand. “Th… thi… this,” I stuttered, motioning my hand around the room for emphasis. “You. Me. My stopping in Missile. The whole ‘universe speaking to me’ journey, nonsense I mentioned, has been a huge surprise.”
“So you think all this is nonsense now?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore, Chip,” I began. “I wish the universe were speaking to me. I wish I could find the perfect husband and live a perfect life. I wish for all kinds of shit, to be honest with you. But most people think I’m crazy when I talk about miracles and stuff.”
“You want a husband? To be married?” he asked.
I laughed out loud. “I spilled my guts about messages and wishes, and all you heard was that?”
Chip walked across the room and sat on the distressed leather couch, moving three pillows out of the way.
I studied him carefully as he stared into space for a few moments, bringing his hands behind his head and relaxing into the couch.
And of course, looking like such a dude when his tank hiked up his stomach.
“My whole life, I wanted to be someone’s husband,” he confessed.
“Yeah?” I asked, sitting in the chair across from him. “What about your ex?” I pushed.
“I was going to ask him to marry me on Christmas Day last year.”
Before I could prevent the urge to cry, a tear sprang from my eye and slid down the side of my nose. I swiped at it as fast as I could. I don’t handle sad stories like his very well. My emotions always get the best of me.
A sad movie, or commercials with mistreated pets, while a gloomy song plays in the background. All these things cause me to cry. History reminded me that men aren’t attracted to criers like me. I’d been told many times to grow up and act like a man.
“And he left before you could?” I whispered, letting the tears fall freely.
His story pained me. The images running through my mind were unsettling.
I imagined a few things all at once. His cabin, fully decorated for Christmas.
Big plans for his future. His being surprised by the breakup.
What a cruel hand of fate he endured. He had to have felt so alone.
How could someone leave a decent and kind man like him?
And finally, I wished it’d been me he’d asked to marry.
Chip placed his hands in his lap and let out a sorrowful sigh. The memory was perceptibly hurting him. “Yeah. I never saw the breakup coming.”
“Me neither,” I began. “Evan left me during the holidays as well. He left for a guy named John, whom he claimed he’d met through work.
Oddly enough, I met John before coming here, and he admitted they’d met online,” I disclosed.
“I sort of saw it coming for a few months. I knew I’d never be enough for Evan. ”
“You know the name of the guy he left you for?”
“Evan introduced us,” I answered. “Last week, actually. And this is the weirdest part. Evan’s new boyfriend was who told me about Missile.”
Chip’s troubled reaction caught my attention. He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing as if he recalled a memory or was deep in thought. I wondered if he was finally thinking what I’d been thinking since I arrived in town.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Now, that is weird.”
“Here’s an honest admission,” I said. “As it turns out, John’s nice. I liked him even though I didn’t want to.”
Chip leaned forward, locked onto me. “Keep going,” he urged. “Describe this John to me.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, sensing alarm.
“Please go on. What did this John look like?”
“Tall,” I began, recalling the handsome person I’d met in the condo parking garage.
“Shoulder-length hair. Jet black. Like super dark. But it was his eyes I can’t forget,” I whispered.
“They were the greenest eyes.” I focused on the memory of how stunned I was when I saw them.
Yeah, so impossibly green, I ruminated. “A very unusual color that sparkled like I’ve never seen. ”
“Who you met was my John,” Chip stated matter-of-factly.
“Your John,” I acknowledged. “As in your ex?”
“Not my John anymore, but yeah, the man you met has to be my ex,” he confirmed. “And I’m going to assume he’s now with Evan, your ex?”
“He is,” I confirmed.
“And when you met John, he never mentioned me by name?”
“He didn’t say your name, but he told me he hated how he treated his ex,” I explained. “He said he did a shitty thing to you.”
“I guess that was a nice thing to admit. So frickin’ crazy that you met him and he mentioned Missile.”
“So crazy,” I muttered, realizing what I feared was actually true. I was having sex with my ex’s new boyfriend’s ex. “I’ll admit, I had wondered,” I added. “And hoped he wasn’t the same person I’d met.”
I made my way to the fireplace, standing in front, fixated on the red embers. Chip’s believing I was telling the truth was important to me. I worried he thought I made up a bullshit message from the universe as an excuse to show up in Missile.
Chip came up behind and slid a hand around my waist. Neither of us spoke for at least three minutes or more. He kissed the back of my neck.
“When you showed up and said you purposely stopped in Missile and were from the city I’d heard he moved to, the thought crossed my mind,” he said. “But then I figured the odds were… what, nearly impossible?”
“Is this going to be a problem now?” I asked, turning around to face him. “I’d totally get it if you thought the coincidence was too much.”
He shook his head. “Not for me, it ain’t,” he claimed. “And if you’re wondering, I believe you, Van. Besides, John left me. Not the other way around. That was a year ago, and I’ve moved on.”
“For sure you’ve moved on?” I pried, once again needing reassurance.
“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “Would you trust your ex if he wanted you back?”
“Of course not,” I replied. “He’d never want me back, but I wouldn’t go if he did.”
“Same,” he stated. “I doubt John will ever come back to Missile. Besides, if he did, I couldn’t trust him. He left once. Why wouldn’t he leave again?”
I sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor, pulling Chip to the floor with me. We quietly gazed at the fire until he leaned forward and tossed another piece into the flames, using a metal poker to position the dried wood properly.
After resuming his position next to me, we simultaneously let out an exhausted-sounding breath.
And then I began to laugh. Nervously at first until he joined in.
We lay back on the area rug, still cracking up, and reaching for each other’s hands.
We knew the score. We knew the oddity of our situation.
“The universe didn’t mention this part,” I wisecracked.
“And talk about coincidences,” he mumbled. “This is one hell of a fluke.”
“I know,” I agreed. “Now what are we going to do?”
Chip hummed to himself, perhaps considering my question. I hoped he believed this was indeed a strange coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences, but I wasn’t sharing my thoughts about messages and such right then. This was all too outlandish.
He suddenly jumped to his feet. “Life goes on, handsome. I have a business to run, and you offered to help.”
He extended his hands and pulled me off the floor. “Can I be inside most of the time?” I asked, faking a shiver. “I’m not used to this kind of cold.”
“Of course, city boy. You can work inside,” he agreed. “You and Bertie can decorate the interior, and I’ll hang the outdoor lights.”
I quickly sat up. “We’re still decorating the mercantile?” I asked.
“Hell yeah, we are!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know about you, but I think those messages you get from the universe are speaking loud and clear,” he began. “And I’m sure as fuck listening now.”
“Let me know what message you get, okay?”
“You’ll know when I know,” Chip answered. “Now get that amazing ass to the mudroom and we’ll get you fitted for snow wear.”
“Aye aye, mister.”