Chapter 15. The Meeting That Could Have Been an Email
The Meeting That Could Have Been an Email
“Ooh, Kim, your cute friend is back.”
I looked up to see Rob walking into the Yarn Fanatics, his face lighting up when he saw me.
“He seems extremely happy to see you,” Nicole observed. “Even my own husband doesn’t look that excited when he sees me at the end of the day. Unless I bring food. Or a case of beer.” She slid me a curious look. “Is there anything you’d like to share with us?”
Two other pairs of eyes pivoted my way. It was Thursday afternoon, almost the end of the day, and Ellie and Melody were going over some items for the street festival.
“I have nothing to share.”
“That’s not true. They’ve been going to weddings together,” Ellie unhelpfully informed Nicole. “He’s been helping Kim meet some single guys.”
“But didn’t you say he’s single?” Nicole lowered her voice to a whisper. “Why do you need to meet other single men when you’ve got one right in front of you?”
“Because he still carries a torch for his ex,” I said, also lowering my voice to a whisper. “I’m going to the weddings with him because he doesn’t want to show up alone in front of her.”
“You’ve never met said ex, though,” Ellie pointed out. “Two weddings so far, and you’ve never seen her, have you?”
“She was at the last wedding, but we were never officially introduced.”
“Maybe he’s just making up that excuse to spend time with you,” Melody said, her eyes widening. “That is so romantic! I love weddings. All the romance, the joy, the music, and the dancing. Is he a good dancer? He looks like he could be a great dancer.”
“He is,” Ellie said. “I’ve seen him dance, and believe me, he can move.”
Our hushed conversation stopped as Rob came up.
“Hey.” He beamed at me. “Sorry to show up unannounced. Are you busy?”
I couldn’t help but smile back at him, even though I knew that Ellie, Nicole, and Melody were watching us with interest. “We’re just going over things for the street festival. What’s up?”
“I wanted to let you know that my contact at the tourism office got back to me, and he’s interested in covering your shopping precinct. The guy at the local newspaper had left, but he said he’ll find someone else to help us.”
“That’s fantastic.” I didn’t know it was possible for my smile to get bigger, but it did.
“That could probably have been an email, though,” Ellie said to him. “Or a text. You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell her that.”
“I know.” Rob shoved one hand into his jeans pocket, his face sheepish. “I finished early, and I was in the area, so I thought it would be easier to share the news in person.” His other hand went up to rub the back of his neck. “And I wanted to see if you’re free for drinks after work.”
“She is,” Ellie immediately answered. “In fact, she can be free now, since you’re already here. Time is money, so no point in waiting around!”
“But Thursday nights are dinner nights with you and Jenna,” I protested. “We were supposed to try that new bingsu place at the Plaza, remember?”
“We can try that tomorrow. Or next week. Or you can try that with Rob,” Ellie said.
“Wait, it’s my phone. I think it’s a text message.
” She made a show of pulling out her phone from her back pocket and swiping through her messages.
“Oh no! Alec said he’s not feeling well, so it looks like I won’t be able to make dinner tonight anyway. I’m so sorry.”
I gave Ellie a look. “Really?”
She chuckled. “Just go, will you?”
“I can do the closing.” Nicole ducked under the counter and emerged holding my bag. “Have fun, kiddos!”
“What do you recommend?”
We were standing in the queue for the new bingsu café that I was supposed to go to with Ellie and Jenna tonight, staring at the laminated menu in our hands, while a Korean pop song played softly from the speakers above our heads.
We’d been standing in the queue for the past ten minutes, and from the looks of things, we might be here for a while.
There were around four or five other groups ahead of us, making the queue stretch past the shop next door.
The place was tiny, with only three four-seater tables and two long tables in the middle of the shop, and they were all occupied.
“Apparently the black sesame bingsu is phenomenal,” I said. “And I’ve been told the mango one is amazing, as well.”
“Let’s get one of each to share between us.”
I didn’t know why, but the thought of sharing a bowl of bingsu with him—or sharing anything, really—felt strangely intimate. In a good way. “Great idea.”
Rob was still studying the menu, his face serious. “I wonder how black sesame mixed with mango would taste.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “Who does that? You taste the black sesame by itself, then the mango by itself. You don’t mix them together!”
“Why not? Everything will practically be mixed anyway once they’re in my digestive system, right? It’s a question of when, not if.”
“Yes, but that isn’t the proper way of eating desserts.” I made a face. “Of eating anything! Would you mix, say, a glass of red wine and a cup of bubble tea? Or a plate of lasagna and a slice of tiramisu?”
He was watching me with a grin. “Didn’t know you were so passionate about your food.”
“Passion has nothing to do with it. It’s called being kind to your tastebuds.”
His chuckle was low, sending delicious shivers down my spine. “Okay, food police. I promise I’ll behave.”
Just then, his phone buzzed, and his eyebrows creased as he saw the caller ID. “I need to take this. I’ll be right back.”
The queue had only inched forward a tiny bit when he returned a few minutes later, looking troubled.
“I’m sorry, but I need to go. That was my mother, and she needed a ride.
My dad was supposed to pick her up from her appointment, but he didn’t show up and he wasn’t answering her calls. I can drop you back at the store—”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, immediately leaving the queue. “I’ll find my own way back. You just go look after your mom. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” He glanced at me. “Actually, do you want to come with? This won’t take long, and we can find something to eat after.”
“I’d love to.” I didn’t know why I said yes, only that I wanted to be there for him.
Twenty minutes later, we walked into a physiotherapist’s office, and a woman limped up when she saw us walking in. She was holding on to a pair of crutches to support her right foot, which was wrapped in a tall black walking boot.
“Hey, Mom.” Rob leaned over and gave her a hug, then helped steady her on her feet. “You okay to walk? The car is right outside.”
“I should be okay. Thanks for coming to get me, sweetheart.” The woman looked like she could be a carbon copy of Rob, with the same friendly smile and warm hazel eyes. “You must be Kim. I’m Michelle, Robbie’s mother. I’m so sorry you had to cut your date short.”
How did she know about me? “Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t a date or anything, we were just hanging out.”
She flicked a curious glance at her son. “Right.”
“Mom injured her ankle a couple of weeks ago,” Rob said. “She was going down a staircase too quickly, lost her footing, then successfully tore her ankle ligaments.”
I made a sympathetic grimace. “That sounds painful.”
“Very much.” Michelle laughed. “Moral of the story: Take your time going down the stairs. An extra two or three seconds wouldn’t kill you.”
“Shaving off two or three seconds might,” Rob said, earning an eye roll from his mom.
His parents’ house was a charming bungalow-style home with a covered wraparound porch, a short drive away from the physiotherapist. Rob parked the car in the driveway before going around to the passenger side to support his mom into the house.
He helped her settle on the living room sofa, then moved around the house to put her bags away and get her a glass of water.
“Thanks again, honey,” Michelle said. “You two should go. Have your dinner or whatever it was that I interrupted.”
“When is Dad coming home?” Rob was frowning. “I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving you on your own. Maybe we should wait until he gets here.”
“He texted, saying he’s on his way.” Michelle waved her hand. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
Just then, the front door slammed, followed by footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.
“Michelle? Are you home?”
An older, less lean version of Rob, with graying temples and sharp, calculating eyes, strolled into the living room, stopping short when he saw us. “Robbie. What are you doing here?”
“I drove Mom home. We’re about to go.” I noticed Rob was standing up straighter, and the laughter in his eyes had dulled a little. “This is a friend of mine, Kim Halim. My father, James Carmichael.”
I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
His father eyed me with curiosity. “What do you do, Kim?”
“I run a small business at the back of Port Benedict Plaza,” I said. “A yarn store that used to belong to my late grandmother.”
“The row of old shops with that popular bakery? Can’t imagine you get a lot of foot traffic there.”
“Dad,” Rob began, “can we not—”
“That’s okay, Rob.” I gave James a tight smile before answering, “The store has been there for a long time and we’re very lucky to have a lot of loyal regulars. We’re doing fine.”
“I see.” He considered me for a few seconds, before turning his attention to his son. “Why haven’t you been at the office this week?”
“That’s because I wasn’t supposed to be at your office this week. I told you already, I’m working at a new job site this week. I can come next week on Friday—”
“That’s not good enough,” his dad said. “If you’re going to take over Carmichael Architects one day, you need to put in more effort.
Everyone else in the firm has been there longer than you have, and they’re not going to respect you if you haven’t paid your dues, especially if they all have degrees and you don’t. ”
“James,” Michelle said, wariness lining her face. “We have a guest.”
I could feel Rob stiffening next to me. “Seriously, Dad? You’re bringing up the degree argument again?
” He gestured at his mom. “Shouldn’t we be focusing on getting Mom better now, instead of worrying about my lack of a degree and how you want me to live my life?
Where were you, anyway? Did you forget that you were supposed to pick her up? ”
“Robbie, that’s enough,” his mom said, her voice tight, her eyes darting nervously between her husband and son. “And I’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I had a meeting that ran late.” James bristled.
“You would know that if you had been at the office. And I’m bringing up your lack of a degree again because it’s important.
Do you really think your building experience alone is enough to run the firm?
It’s not, and you’ll need to work twice as hard, and one or two days a week in the office isn’t going to cut it. You’ll need to be in there full-time.”
“And I already told you”—Rob’s voice rose—“I’ve still got my own busi—”
“Robbie. James. Please, that’s enough.” Michelle sounded distressed now, and there was something resembling panic in her eyes.
“Can you two not fight with each other all the time? You both know how much I don’t like it.
Can we please arrive at a compromise that works for everyone?
” She turned a pleading look at her son.
“Your dad means well. If you can’t do full time now, maybe two days a week? And that way we’re all happy?”
Rob shook his head, looking like he was about to argue his point further, but his mom sent him another imploring look. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Two days a week.”
Relief crossed his mother’s face. “Thank you.”
James only scoffed, before saying, “I expect to see you first thing Monday morning.”
Rob mumbled a clipped goodbye, then grabbed my hand and led me out of the house, not saying a single word as we got into his car and drove away.
“Hey.” I turned in my seat to face him. “You okay?”
He expelled a long breath before answering, “I will be. My mother always gets very anxious and emotionally distressed whenever I have an argument with my dad. He can be very headstrong, while she hates confrontation and disagreements, always has ever since I was little. She doesn’t like conflicts and can’t stand anyone in the family fighting with each other.
Her parents got divorced when she was a teenager, and she said they used to fight a lot, and I think that scarred her for life.
To her, any form of conflict is a problem that might potentially tear our family apart.
” He sighed. “And it’s hard, because she often avoids saying what needs to be said to keep the peace. ”
“So you give in to your dad a lot to appease your mom,” I said. “And that leads to him walking all over you.”
“Yeah. But I hate it whenever she’s stressed out because I’m arguing with my dad.
It feels like I’m disappointing not just him, but her, too.
” He stopped at a red light and glanced at me with a small smile.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. And for ruining our bingsu plans.
But thank you. I’m glad you were there with me. ”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything.”
“You were there with me. That was more than enough.”
The lights turned green, and he returned his attention to the road, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened.
This was a guy who was willing to drop everything to help his mother, and did things that were probably going to be at his expense to help keep the peace in his family.
Not because he couldn’t stand up for himself and say no, but because he puts his family and their well-being first, above a lot of other things.
Above himself.
And I knew I shouldn’t be finding that trait—him—attractive.
But damn it, I did.