Chapter 15 – Grace
Hiking was the type of activity that separated the men from the boys. Or in our case, the women swatting at invisible flies and stopping to take selfies from the go-getters who didn’t have the decency to wait on everyone else.
I just wanted to take it all in. I’d spent hours prepping flower arrangements at the shop so that when my part-timers came in, they could stay at the front counter. On Saturdays, we had a lot of last-minute walk-ins, and if they didn’t see anyone at the counter, they’d walk right back out.
We couldn’t have asked for better weather for a hike. The first week of March in Arizona is what picture postcards are made of. Seventy degrees with the bluest skies and the fluffiest clouds. Our green was a deep sage, not flashy or lush, but tucked against red rock and yellow wildflowers, it held its own kind of wild beauty.
Dean and I started out trying to encourage the laggers to keep up with everyone else, but eventually we ended up in the middle of the pack with Jackson, Lacey, and Stella. They had questions for us, and we had nowhere to hide. Basically, we were contestants on their favorite game show, Tell Us Everything and Don’t Leave Out Any Details .
“You two have never dated each other?” Lacey asked.
“No,” I assured her. “And we’re not dating now. We’re friends.” At least I could say that last part with conviction now.
“Mmm.” Jackson didn’t look persuaded. Next, he’d be asking us to prove it by getting in each other’s personal space and gauging our reactions.
“And Dean’s dad is your godfather?” Stella asked. She was at the front of our group, keeping watch for the spiky little balls that came off the jumping cholla cactus and rolled into the trail. Getting one attached to your shoe was not pleasant.
I looked over at Dean and motioned that I’d take this question, too. “It’s not an official title. We’re not even Catholic. I just didn’t know what else to call him. Uncle didn’t feel right. I’m not a fan of almost step-dad. Our parents weren’t even engaged. They just dated for a while.”
“How long is a while?” Jackson asked.
“Almost a year,” I admitted. “My brother and I got more attached to Henry than our mom ever did.”
“He was just as attached,” Dean added. “My dad is friends with everyone. He collects people.”
Lacey glanced between the two of us, looking contemplative. “Do you, like, do Thanksgivings together then? How often do you see each other?”
Dean stepped around an overachieving bush with thorns growing into the trail before glancing back to make sure I did as well. “What do you think, Grace? When was our last Thanksgiving together?”
“It’s been a while. We have the typical blended American families, so Dean usually has Thanksgiving with his mom. I’m usually with my dad and stepmom Jill. Or I’m with my mom.”
“And you’re divorced, too.” Stella so helpfully pointed out.
I nodded, biting my lip. I saw her point. Perhaps my Thanksgivings were complicated by my ex. He was as much a part of my big blended family as Jill, or Henry, or even Dean. But the squeezing in my chest didn’t care about logic .
I never wanted to be divorced. I wanted to shout it up at the clouds. If they gave out trophies for trying to make a relationship work, I’d have a whole shelf full of them. Not that it did me any good.
Stella had so casually pointed out my biggest fear. That fate set this in motion a long time ago. That I was doomed to repeat the mistakes of my parents and I was part of a chain that would continue to break in places. And if all that were true, why did I come on this hike today?
In my inner spiral, I’d failed to notice Dean hanging back until he was right next to me. His finger found a loop on the side of my cargo shorts, and he gave it a small tug.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
“Okay,” I whispered back. If only it were that easy.
“You’re pretty great. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give you an eleven.”
“On a greatness scale?” I turned my head the other direction so he wouldn’t see my stupid goofy, watery smile.
“Yes. People I tolerate are in the three-to-four range. Then there’s the good people. The ones who smile at you on instinct and bring treats to meetings. I’d rate them as a seven or eight. You could have a decent conversation with them on an elevator, but you wouldn’t think about them at night or anything.”
If I were talking to anyone else, I’d think they were rambling, but this was Dean doing what he did best. Distracting me. Teasing me until I had no choice but to take notice of him. He was also maybe insinuating that he thought about me at night. Which if that were true… same.
“I guess I should start bringing treats to meetings,” I said.
“That might get you higher on other people’s lists. You should do it. You don’t have to earn your spot on my list, though. I like you for other reasons.” Dean pointed up to a cloud off to our right, as if he hadn’t just dropped that mysterious little tidbit. “These clouds are unreal. That one looks like a hippo. Don’t you think?”
“Which one?” Jackson practically wedged his way between us in his need to cloud search with us, which Dean found hilarious. He couldn’t look at me without laughing. When people mentioned golden retriever energy, I’d always picture Jackson.
The trail narrowed up ahead, and I moved behind Dean, stepping where he stepped. I felt light and fluffy again, like maybe it was okay to be here with other single people, even if I wasn’t sure why. I could branch out in my own small way.
When the group slowed to check out a bird’s nest up in a saguaro cactus, I drew closer to Dean until I could talk right into his back. He smelled like fabric softener and sunshine and creosote bushes. “You’re nailing this friendship thing.”
He reached back, wiggling his fingers at me. “Should have taken me up on it sooner.”
That was the closest he’d come to mentioning last night. I couldn’t fall asleep after he left, even after a long shower. I bet he’d slept just fine. Dean had been a perfect gentleman while we danced. Maybe too perfect. It was maddening to realize I preferred the Dean who messed with me over the one who respected all my careful boundaries. With a little bit of encouragement, what would he do? How far would mutual flirting go before he decided things were getting a little too real?
I rubbed my neck, hating that my mind went back to things my ex had said when he was frustrated or mad. That being with me was sometimes a drag. That I made him unhappy. I put too much pressure on him. I had too many rules. We’d never established rules!
Dang, I was mind spiraling again. The shadow of a hawk passed overhead, and I glanced up to watch it circle in a slow arc. I breathed in deep and imagined letting every negative thought go. As effortlessly as that hawk soared on the wind, I could breathe in and out. My lungs would do the work whether I asked them to or not. The sun beamed down, warming my face. Today was good. No, today was great.
“Are you seeing that cloud that looks like a fire hydrant?” Jackson hollered back at me.
“I was looking at a hawk.” And using breathing techniques. Thank you, therapy.
“Which one looks like a hawk?” Stella asked. She shielded her eyes with her hand, frowning up at the clouds.
I exchanged smiles with Dean before his look turned serious. He studied me carefully, maybe sensing that I wasn’t as calm as I’d hoped for, but he couldn’t walk forward with his eyes on me, so he turned his head and kept going, though he slowed until we were in conversation distance with each other again, letting Lacey catch up to Jackson and Stella.
“Do you know what they decided for lunch?” Dean asked.
I lengthened my stride a little, and then we were side by side again now that the trail had widened. “Mexican food. I can’t remember the name, but the address is in the app.”
“Huh. Can I ask something that’s none of my business?”
“You usually do, Dean.” I said it breezily, but I was already getting worried about the possibilities.
“Do they know?” he whispered, glancing at me. “Do they know you have a daughter?”
“No.” I figured it would come up at some point, but I wasn’t interested in anyone here in that way. It seemed like a single date thing. Not a group thing. “Would you have said something?” I asked him.
“On a group app? No.”
My shoulders relaxed. Not that I needed Dean’s agreement or anything. But it was nice to hear he didn’t find my privacy dishonest. “Is that why you didn’t use your name or face at first? Because it was a group app?”
“Yeah, I guess I thought of it as testing it out. Seeing how things went before putting myself out there. Which is dumb because the thing I like best about it is that everyone is their real selves. I was so relieved when you RSVP’d for the dance. It meant I didn’t have to cold-call you and confess or come into the shop and confess there. You can’t imagine how much I was dreading it.”
“Oh, poor Knead.”
He laughed and I did too. I could imagine his dread. I was not the most approachable person ever. Or at least, I hadn’t been, up until now. I’d apologized for being distant with him. Which meant I couldn’t retreat to that when I needed to anymore. And when I slipped up and did it anyway, I’d have to own up and make it right. It was a scary realization.