Chapter 10 Wes
Yelling at Erick and talking through things with him helped me feel a little better, but I am still just so thrown by how I felt seeing Rose and I can’t quite figure it out. All night my thoughts were stuck on her, and I couldn’t focus on anything. I know that it’s been ten years, but I’m brought back to all those times talking with her about our dream of a cabin we could call our own, adventures we’d go on together, and maybe children down the line. A quiet life, just enjoying one another and being outside in this place we both love.
Waking up this morning, it’s more of the same. I never thought that Rose would be single when I came back, and my mind isn’t sure what to make of it. I’m still inexplicably drawn to her. She’s even more gorgeous than I remember. Is that just how young, first loves are?
Before I even register what I’m doing, my pajamas are off, I’m grabbing a fresh flannel, brushing my teeth, putting on a little dab of cologne, and then I’m out the door. I just have to see her again and try to talk with her—see if we can catch up and patch up what happened so long ago. I owe her an explanation at least, and know I won’t be able to settle until this feels more resolved.
The bell sounds as I walk into Morning Tea Bookery and find Rose behind the counter, making a fresh pot of tea for someone. Suddenly my hands are noticeably very empty and I feel like I should have brought her something.
Or would that be weird?
Weird, it would have been weird. Instead, I decide to put my hands in my pockets.
Before I can say anything, or even walk up to her, she’s out from behind the counter and starting to clear tables. She has her back to me so I walk over to her and before I can tap her shoulder, she turns, suddenly, knocking into me. She lets out a little shriek as a couple of mugs go flying. I reach out instinctively to keep her from falling, my hands grazing her hip and waist. She’s leaning into me, wide-eyed. Our faces are entirely too close, but instead of pulling away we look at one another for a few moments. Then, just as suddenly, the moment is broken as we’re jolted out of our gaze to the clattering of mugs as a couple drops off their cups at the front, and leaves the store.
“Wes,” she breathes out, righting herself and stepping out of my arms. “Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have come up behind you like that. Are you okay? Let me help sweep this up.” Turning around, I start looking for a broom and see one just behind the counter. Grabbing it, I start sweeping furiously, still unnerved by the now fleeting feel of Rose in my arms.
Glancing up, I see her eyes on me, questioningly. “Why are you here?” she asks. Her tone more curious than anything else. No tears yet, so that’s a good sign.
My mind is blank and I can’t for the life of me remember what it is I was so determined to say. I just wanted to see her. So I land on, “I wanted some tea.” She eyes me again, like she doesn’t believe me and I quickly add, “And to see you.” Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I felt terrible about how things ended yesterday and wanted to try to fix it, but it looks like I’ve made a mess of today, too.” I shrug and gesture towards the broken shards on the ground.
“No, you haven’t, and you don’t need to do that, let me.” Taking the broom from me, she finishes scooping up the pieces and getting rid of them, grabbing the rest of the trash she was cleaning up before my untimely entrance. “What kind of tea would you like?”
“Whatever is your favorite.” She eyes me again, giving me the up and down appraisal. I suddenly wish I had spent more time fixing my hair, or worn something other than a flannel.
“Okay, I’ll surprise you. Let me grab it and I’ll bring it over.” While she works, I find a couch and sit, finally taking in the shop that I was too busy, or flustered, to notice yesterday. It’s warm, with fireplaces and books along the walls. Guests sit around the space like it’s their living room, totally at ease and enjoying it, while light music plays in the background and the lake is gleaming in the morning sun outside the windows.
“Here we are, one cup of my famous London Fog.” She smiles at me and I can’t help but think there’s been at least some improvement in her mood since I was last here. Her soft fingers brush against mine as she hands me the mug. Our eyes flash to one another’s, but she quickly looks away.
“London Fog, is that a type of tea?” The cup is warm in my hands and has the most delicious aroma. After sipping it, I can confirm it tastes just as good.
She laughs. “No, it’s black tea with milk, vanilla, and I add a little lavender to it.” Her smile slowly disappears and then she adds, “You mentioned how things ended yesterday. My emotions got the better of me. I’m obviously still working through some things from growing up, and that took even me by surprise, to be honest. I knew you were back in town, but it still felt a bit . . . jarring to see you.” Her fingers fiddle with the edge of the coffee table as she perches on the edge of the couch, not quite sure if she wants to stay.
“I felt the same way, even though it’s been a long time and we’ve changed, it still feels crazy to see you and yeah . . .” I trail off. Words are escaping me. My feelings definitely felt jarring as well. And I’m still reeling from the soft feel of Rose’s sweater on my fingertips—her warmth in my arms as I caught her.
“Maybe we could try catching up again? Start over? ” Her body slides down a little onto the couch and I have to hold back the urge to reach for one of her hands. She folds them in her lap and smiles nervously.
“Sure, you asked about the move yesterday . . . It was a lot,” I say, to which we both laugh. “But, I’m sure you heard from your mom that my parents divorced. I stayed with my mom and saw my dad on the weekends. I struggled a lot after the move . . .” I trail off, unsure of how to breach the difficult subject.
Looking up, her large eyes find mine. I take a deep breath and decide on something lighter for now. “Let’s see, I was in a band in high school.”
Rose shakes her head, startled by the sudden change in subjects, but recovers quickly. “What?! Wes Stevenson in a band ? Now this I have to hear more about.”
“I was the very best drummer in all of the Twin Cities, according to our school paper,” I say, smiling and refusing to not take the chance to make her smile again.
“That’s great. And I’m really sorry about your parents. My mom did tell me a few months after you left what had happened. That must have been really hard.”
“Yeah, it was.” But before I can say anything more, the bell to the shop goes off and a family of tourists walks in the door, talking loudly. Rose cringes.
“I’m so sorry, I have to help them, but I hope you enjoy your tea.” She smiles at me as she goes to help the new customers. I wave goodbye and watch as she effortlessly makes the group feel comfortable—helping them order and choose what they need. She is really good at this . Her eyes skirt over to me at one point with an uncertain feeling, but I’m relieved that today is at least better than yesterday. And Wilfred is safe and sound.