Chapter 12 Sebastian #2
like some high-priced perfume with an enticingly distant and unreachable celebrity in its ads. The kind where Rachel Weisz
or David Beckham or someone is the mysterious “It” girl or guy at a party and then disappears before sunrise. But she just
smelled like lilacs. Freesia, maybe. Something soft and comfortable that dared to whisper the word spring over and over while the cold wind of winter blew all around it.
Orly cackled. “Okay, well, as long as I’m not completely on my own...” He placed his palm on the handle, threatening to open the door, and Sebastian felt desperation boil up inside
of him.
Open it. Get some fresh air in here.
Sebastian could have just opened his own door, of course, but that didn’t seem to occur to him just then.
Brynn turned her head to face Orly, and Sebastian felt the reprieve for a single moment, before he got a whiff of her long
brown hair as it passed by his nose. It matched the scent of her body. Not the same flower, exactly, but it all worked together
to create a breathtaking bouquet.
He quickly swallowed down the lump that formed in the back of his throat as he began to panic. Just for a second. Just long
enough for him to begin wishing Murrow was there to sense his anxiety, as he always did. But then Orly opened his door. And
it wasn’t just that the fresh air reminded him it wasn’t quite yet spring after all. It wasn’t even that Brynn turned away
from him at the sound of the creaky door, phone tightly in hand, and began scooting over to Orly’s side of the vehicle, preparing
to climb out, giving him room to breathe.
It was that the moment the door opened, he heard talk radio blaring from Ken Lindell’s insurance agency. He smelled fresh
coffee brewing at the Bean Franklin. And he heard the new accessible pedestrian traffic signal at the corner audibly informing
everyone it was safe to cross Main Street and continue on Elm. The surprisingly modern, not-in-the-budget traffic signal that
even Bill Kimball had voted in support of as Helen Souza’s eyesight deteriorated but she refused to quit volunteering at the
library every day.
Sebastian loved this town, and Brynn Cornell had attacked it. That was the air he needed to keep breathing.
So maybe she smelled good. So what? And maybe there were moments when she seemed so human that compassion threatened to morph
into some unwelcome desire to protect her from... something. Maybe, in the last few minutes, she’d even made him acutely
aware of something he hadn’t thought of in a very long time.
He was a man.
Well, it wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about being a man. He knew he was a man. He never quite forgot that. He was a single man who lived alone and rarely had to lower the toilet seat, after all.
But he was a man who, once upon a time, had really loved women. And not just in the way he loved them now. Now, he loved innocently
flirting with the ladies at the senior center and seeing their faces light up in girlish delight when he oohed and aahed over
Maxine’s latest cross-stitch masterpiece. He loved watching Laila focus all her kindness and warmth on whomever she talked
with, making them feel like the most important person in the room. He loved sparring with Jo, knowing that she would ultimately
best him in wit and wisdom every single time. And he loved the way Andi didn’t take any crap from people but would go out
of her way to help anyone at any time.
In his life before, he’d loved Erin too much. His love for her had been toxic—at least that’s what Erin, her lawyers, and
every marriage counselor they ever conferred with said. His love hadn’t allowed her to just be Erin, in addition to Sebastian
and Erin. He saw that now, and he regretted it. She was remarkable and fascinating all on her own, and his love for her should
have amplified that rather than even subconsciously attempting to diminish it. And he still believed he might have been capable
of that sort of love if, at the exact same time he was loving her too much, he hadn’t also been making the mistake of not
loving her enough. If he had loved her enough to realize hers was the love worth fighting for, and that it was his responsibility to make sure no other women stood in the way of that.
It had been six years since his divorce was finalized.
Six years since he’d moved to Adelaide Springs.
Six years that he’d been too damaged, too disinterested, or too fond of any woman he knew to think of being anything other than a friend.
A listener. A helper. Occasionally a teacher but more often a student.
A confidant. An advocate. And sure, a bit of a flirt under the right circumstances.
After six years, he knew he was still damaged. But was it possible he was no longer too damaged? He was not fond of Brynn Cornell, that was for sure, but suddenly he couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he
was disinterested. So whatever was happening, he would have to be careful. Otherwise he was afraid he might accidentally remember
other things about being a man.