Chapter 8 Wrenley #3
She looks at me as she carefully asks, Would you be okay working on the costumes while I focus on catching up with the mending?
I shrug. Sure. I’m just excited to have a new creative something to work on.
Because as seamstresses, that’s all we need… another project, Beryl says dryly, and we all laugh.
The store’s open from nine to four Monday through Friday, Audrey says. But of course, come whenever works for you.
I shake my head. No, I like having a set schedule.
Audrey smiles. Great. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I echo, then wave goodbye.
At the threshold, I pause. I glance back into the little shop with its dated wood panelling and musty charm. It’s nothing like the sleek studio I worked in back in Vancouver, but that only makes me like it even more.
I step outside and almost immediately hear my name being called.
Wrenley!
I turn as Remi pulls up in her truck, window down. She double-parks and jumps out as soon as she turns the truck off.
Hey! I glance at my phone. That was faster than five minutes.
Didn’t get stuck behind Old Man Leroy. She waves it off like divine timing, while I try to remember who that is and how he affects traffic. But oh my God! Wren! I have big news.
Me too! I say. But you first.
My books got picked up for a series on Netflix.
My jaw drops. Oh my God!
We both scream, jumping up and down like kids on a sugar high, and throw our arms around each other.
They already have some actors in mind, Remi squeals. They bought two seasons up front. If they do well, they’ll keep adapting the rest of the series.
I’m so proud of you, Rem! I hug her again, tighter this time. You deserve this.
Okay, okay. She wriggles free. That’s enough physical touching for one year. Now, spill! What’s your news?
I suddenly feel very aware that my news is significantly less studio deal.
Well… I tuck my hair behind my ear. Beryl and Audrey need help making costumes for the school play, so I’m volunteering at the shop. I shrug. It’s not exactly two-season-adaptation exciting.
No, I love that! Remi says without missing a beat. Seriously. You found something that excites you again, and that’s huge.
I smile. I’m excited to start, I say.
Remi links her arm through mine. Come on. Let’s go talk about our fabulous new lives over coffee.
I laugh softly. Sounds perfect.
Ruger barely has a boot off before I run up and start telling him about my day.
I went to the fabric store today, which, by the way, why the hell didn’t you tell me about that?
He opens his mouth, but I wave him off because I’m still talking.
Anyway! Audrey is completely over her head with projects and asked me to help make costumes for the school play and—
I stop abruptly.
Ruger’s still in uniform, and this is the first time I’ve really gotten a good look at it.
Most evenings, I’m on the couch sewing and catch a glimpse of dark brown pants through the stair railings as he goes upstairs.
But now he’s standing right in front of me.
The brown button-up shirt stretches across his shoulders, and there is something about his utility belt that suddenly makes my brain try very hard to remember what I was talking about in the first place.
You okay? he asks slowly.
I blink. Yep. Total lie.
He studies me a second longer before he adjusts his belt.
So, he says, you’re excited about this?
Yep, I say again, trying very hard to make the hot wildlife trooper situation secondary.
Well, good. I think it’s great that you found something.
Yeah?
Of course. His hands rest on his belt in this unfairly sexy stance that only a man in uniform can pull off. I can’t even imagine how hard it is to come to a new place and wake up not knowing how to fill your day.
It has been harder than I imagined, waking up and feeling aimless. I have felt a little too dependent on Remi and Ruger to keep me entertained, and in doing so, I created a little safe bubble. Even though I don’t plan to stay here, it feels good to have something for me.
He points upstairs. I’m going to get changed, then let’s make dinner?
Yep.
Third yep in under thirty seconds. Incredible work, Wrenley.
Okay, he says before walking past me and heading upstairs.
I stare after him, trying to convince myself the flutter in my stomach has everything to do with the uniform and nothing to do with the man wearing it.
The rest of the evening unfolds the way it always does.
We make dinner together, moving around each other in the kitchen without bumping elbows or getting in the other’s way.
Later, we curl up on opposite ends of the couch to watch another episode of our true crime show.
At some point, Ruger chuckles under his breath at something the interviewee says, and I quickly realize I’m smiling too, cozying up a little more on the couch. I revel in how ordinary this all feels.
Whoa. Wait. What is happening?
Is this supposed to feel like this?
We’re not even touching. We’re literally sitting as far apart on a couch as we can, watching television, and yet it feels different than our usual way of killing an hour before bed.
When I think back over the evening, from the moment he walked through the door and I practically ran to tell him my news to smiling simply because I like the sound of his laugh, it’s becoming more apparent that we have a life together.
The realization sends me upstairs earlier than usual.
I change into my pyjamas and crawl beneath the covers before staring up at the ceiling, trying to make pictures in the ridges of texture.
It’s just another distraction, and it makes me wonder if the costume alterations are one too.
Something to keep my hands busy while my brain figures out why I like these simple moments with Ruger and why I wish there were more.