Chapter 7 Tabitha
Chapter seven
Tabitha
Nearly an hour later, I’m showered, dressed, and halfway to the door, ready to head downstairs during Rory’s scheduled meeting with Hays, when his laptop chimes with the incoming video call.
He’s set up at my small kitchen table, and I freeze at the sound, my fingers tightening on the brass doorknob.
“Give me one second,” Rory says, his tone easy.
I should slip out before—
But his eyes find mine across the room, over the screen. There’s no panic there, just a steady, almost amused look that says, Well, this is happening. As if getting caught at my place was inevitable.
My feet are planted on the hardwood when Hays’s voice booms through the laptop speakers. “Holy shit, Leah was right! I owe her fifty bucks!”
Heat creeps up my neck, but it’s more annoyance than embarrassment. Of course, Hays would recognize my place and not waste a second before giving Rory a hard time.
I shoot Rory a look that clearly says, Your best friend is the worst, and yank open the door. Behind me, Rory’s voice rumbles, calm and unbothered. “Yeah, I’m here at Tabitha’s.”
No deflection. No excuses. Just stating facts.
Hays’s bark of laughter follows me into the stairwell as I tug the door closed behind me.
“You dog! Leah said you two were heading for round two when you left last night, but I told her no way. I was sure you were just getting a ride to the hotel because you don’t do seconds.
Ever. And here you are, still at her place the next morning! ”
“Are we doing this now?” Rory’s tone is patient but amused. The voice of someone who’s dealt with Hays for years and knows exactly how to handle it.
“Hell, yes, we’re doing this now! You’ve been moping around for months—”
“I haven’t been moping—”
“You’ve been moping. And now, you’re breaking your cardinal rule during a snowstorm and you expect me not to give you shit about it?”
“Anything else you’d like to add?” Rory’s voice carries a smile I can hear even through the door.
“Don’t deflect. What happened to one night, no repeats, keep it simple? That’s been your motto since forever.”
I should head downstairs, but I’m stuck with one hand on the railing, unable to resist eavesdropping.
“We should probably talk about the season schedule,” Rory says, trying to steer the conversation.
“Oh no. No way. You don’t get to dodge this.” Then, as if Hays is looking away, I hear, “Leah! LEAH! Get in here!”
“I hate you,” Rory deadpans, without an ounce of heat.
“No, you don’t. You love me.”
“Can we focus?”
“We will. Right after you tell me if this is just a snowed-in situation or if you’re finally admitting you’ve been into her since the wedding.”
My breath catches. I wait. And wait some more. Nothing. Just…silence.
“That’s what I thought,” Hays says, satisfaction dripping from every word. “Man, Leah’s going to lose her mind when I tell her—”
“Tell her what?” Leah’s voice comes through, slightly distant. “What are you yelling about?”
“I was wrong! Rory’s at Tabitha’s apartment. They did go for round two. You were right.”
“Of course, I was.”
I shake my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips as I take the stairs down to the store, not wanting to be discovered when chances are good my phone is going to—
It buzzes before I even make it to the bookstore’s back office.
“Hey, Leah,” I answer, trying for breezy as I grab the extra cardigan I keep on the back of my desk chair then click on the space heater.
“Don’t you Hey, Leah me.” Her voice is bright with barely contained glee. “I just won fifty bucks! Hays didn’t believe me when I said you two were heading for round two last night.”
I sink into my desk chair, the old leather creaking. “Congratulations on your winnings.”
“He was so sure Rory wouldn’t break his no seconds rule.” She’s practically crowing. “But I knew better. I saw the way you two were looking at each other at dinner.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal,” she repeats slowly. “Tabitha, the man who never sleeps with anyone twice spent the night at your place. And slept with you at least once, making that twice.”
I roll my eyes. “So?”
“So this is huge! Hays said Rory’s had the same rule for as long as he’s known him. One night, no repeats, keep it simple. And he broke it for you.”
I remember him this morning, standing in my kitchen. The way he’d fumbled with my pour-over setup, looking adorably lost. How I’d stepped in to help and our hands had brushed, and for one heart-stopping moment I’d thought he would kiss me right there against the counter. And maybe more.
“We’re just riding out the storm,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.
“Mm-hmm. And then what? You two just ride out the storm and pretend this never happened when he flies down to Texas?”
“Texas?”
“Yeah, he’s going to visit his sister, brother-in-law, and niece for Christmas.”
“Oh. Well, we haven’t exactly talked about the details, but that’s exactly my plan. Ride it out until life returns to normal.”
The pause that follows is so long I pull the phone from my ear to check if the call dropped.
“Leah?”
“I’m here. Just trying to figure out how to say this without you hanging up on me.”
“I’m not going to—”
“And you’re okay with that?” Her voice is gentler now, which somehow makes it worse. “With him leaving and that being it? Even though you two are clearly into each other?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay? We’re adults. We know what this is. And what it isn’t.”
“Do you?” There’s a note of challenge in her tone now. “Because you’re using your I’m totally fine voice.”
“I don’t have a—”
“You absolutely do. It’s the same voice you used when you insisted you could handle everything Aunt Mae needed after her stroke. And when you insisted you didn’t need help during the holiday rush. And now, you’re using it about a man who apparently makes exceptions for you.”
My jaw clenches. “I am not—”
“Tabitha.” She says my name like a sigh. “Dave from the post office has asked you out twice since my wedding.”
“Dave’s nice, but—”
“But he’s not Rory.”
The words land like a punch to the chest. I spin my chair to face the small window overlooking the alley, watching fat snowflakes swirl in the wind. The world is nothing but white and gray, everything buried under drifts.
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble. “Rory’s life is suitcases and hotel rooms and cities I’ve never heard of. Mine is here. It’s always been and always will be.”
“So? Hays and I figured it out.”
We’ve been over this. “That’s different. You can travel with him. I can’t just abandon the bookstore. Or Aunt Mae—”
“I’m not saying you should,” Leah interrupts. “I’m saying maybe, you should stop deciding what’s possible before you even give it a chance.”
I close my eyes, but that just makes it worse because now I’m picturing the way Rory looked while I taught him how to play the triangle peg game.
The one where you jump over adjacent golf tees, removing them until there’s only one left.
When we played over breakfast, he’d been so focused, so intensely competitive over a simple wooden puzzle, I couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re trying to intimidate me,” I’d accused, watching his jaw clench as he concentrated.
“Is it working?” He’d flashed the quick grin that made my stomach flip.
“Not even a little.”
“Liar.” But his eyes had been warm, teasing. “You’re biting your lip. That’s your tell.”
And he’d been right. I had been biting my lip. Because watching him in my space, playing a silly game at my counter, had felt dangerously good. Like something I could get used to.
“Tabitha? You still there?”
“Yeah.” I shake off the memory. “I’m here.”
“Look, I’m not trying to push you into anything,” Leah says, her tone softer now. “I just… You were always the one telling me to take risks. To follow my heart. To go after what I want even when it’s scary.”
My throat tightens. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because you and Hays make sense. This—” I gesture uselessly at nothing, “—doesn’t make sense. It never did. That’s why we agreed it was just one night.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
I don’t answer because what am I supposed to say?
That my sheets still smell like him? That I woke up early this morning with his arm across my chest and closed my eyes, snuggling in and drifting back to sleep because I’d felt more content than I have in years?
That I’m terrified because his extended stay isn’t what either of us signed up for?
“You don’t sound too upset about being snowed in together,” Leah observes, reading my silence with annoying accuracy. “You sound…”
“What?”
“Scared.”
The observation hits too close to home. I stand abruptly, needing to move, and head to the boxes of donated books stacked against the far wall in the reading corner. Work. I can focus on things that need to be done.
“I’m not scared,” I lie, peeling open the top box. “I’m realistic.”
“Here’s the thing though,” Leah cuts in. “You’re not worried about being snowed in with him. You’re worried about what happens when the snow melts.”
My hands freeze on the box flap.
She’s right. And I hate it.
“Look,” Leah continues when I don’t respond. “All I’m saying is…don’t write the ending before you’ve read the whole story. You taught me that, remember? When I was convinced Hays would never want someone like me?”
“That was different—”
“It really wasn’t.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “Just…be open to possibilities. Even the scary ones. Especially the scary ones.”
Overhead, I hear laughter. Rory’s rumble of amusement through the ceiling, muffled, indistinct, but unmistakably his.
What’s he saying to Hays? What are they laughing about?
“I should go,” I tell Leah. “I’ve got a ton of work to catch up on.”
“On a day when the whole town is shut down?”
“The books don’t sort themselves.”
She sighs. “Fine. But Tabitha? For what it’s worth? I know Rory better than you, and I think you guys are good together. Different, sure. But good different. The kind of different that fits.”
After we hang up, I sit in the silence of the empty bookstore, surrounded by boxes of donated books for kids who need a little magic in their lives. Outside, the wind howls and snow continues to fall, piling higher against the windows.
I pull out my phone, meaning to check the weather forecast, to see how long this storm is supposed to last. But instead, I scroll to the photographer's photos Leah shared from her wedding.
There’s one I’m looking for. Rory and me at the reception. We’re not looking at the camera. We’re looking at each other. His hand is at the small of my back, and I’m laughing at something he said, my head tilted up toward his. The look on his face…
I shove the phone away before I find the image.
Two days, I think, pulling the first donated book from the box. Surely, it won’t be more than that before he leaves and I stay and everything goes back to normal.
But as I try to focus on sorting picture books from chapter books, my mind keeps drifting upstairs.
To the man in my apartment. To last night.
To the way he’d looked at me this morning in the kitchen.
To the fact, for the first time in my carefully ordered life, normal doesn’t sound nearly as appealing as it used to.