10. Maybe
10
MAYBE
Mara
After Scarlet left, I went upstairs to my apartment to check on Zephyr. He’d been napping after lunch, but now he bounced with joy at seeing me.
“Want to join me in the store?”
His enormous ears perked up as he cocked his head to one side, then ran to the door and sat down. He glanced over his shoulder, wriggling his butt, giving me that broad doggy-grin. That dog could be perfectly obedient—when he wanted something.
Laughing, I opened the door, and he darted down the rear staircase ahead of me, into the storeroom.
After settling myself in front of my laptop, I read through the email regarding the project I was supposed to be coding. I couldn’t concentrate, though. Scarlet’s story about her parents kept playing in my mind. It was a good thing she hadn’t been with them on that flight to D.C.
How had she found out they’d died? My breath caught in my throat—what if she’d learned via the internet? Had she been alone? She was an only child. It must have been devastating.
I shut my laptop. Since I couldn’t focus, I grabbed a broom from the storeroom and started sweeping.
As I moved around the store, my thoughts kept drifting back to Scarlet. She and I had both lost someone close, but I hadn’t faced it alone. Losing my twin had been the most wrenching experience of my life, but I’d had my family. Scarlet had been on her own. That thought weighed on me as I swept dust out the front door.
After putting the broom away, guilt crept up on me again. Scarlet’s story about Ford made me feel even worse for blowing him off. Why had I been so quick to judge him?
The truth hit me like a well-aimed truth beam: It wasn’t Ford’s supposed string of girlfriends or his habit of dropping curse words in my store that had made me so wary. No, it was Dad and Doug—the two male masterminds who’d been tinkering with my confidence like evil villains.
I realized with a pang of regret that I’d been afraid to give Ford a chance, all because of Doug. That guy was a walking, talking pile of bantha poo-doo—and I’d unfairly associated Ford with him. How had I not seen it?
When I first met Doug, he seemed perfect. He was attentive, supportive, and charming. But then, the cracks appeared. Slowly, at first. He started criticizing me, chipping away at my self-esteem. And when I stood up for myself, he’d gaslight me.
“You’re imagining things,” he’d said. “Maybe you don’t remember clearly.”
For a while, I doubted myself. Maybe I was overreacting. After all, Chance’s death had left me raw. But Doug hadn’t just been toxic—he’d tried to destroy me, my business, and my confidence.
Ford was nothing like him.
My problem was that, after Doug, I wasn’t sure if I could trust my own judgment anymore. Even though I knew self-doubt was a lingering effect of gaslighting, that didn’t make it go away. But I trusted Scarlet—and if she said Ford was a good guy, maybe I needed to believe her.
I sighed, frustrated with myself for letting Doug’s ghost keep haunting me. I needed to fix things with Ford. I owed him an apology. Maybe I could still have coffee with him and see where it went.
I headed to the back room, grabbed the box from the top shelf, and fished out Ford’s business card. I stared at the raised lettering, running my thumb over it.
I should call him today.
Could I?
Of course I could. But—was I ready?
The door chime jingled, saving me from my own indecision. Zephyr trotted ahead of me as I tucked Ford’s card into my pocket. The next two hours passed quickly as I rang up purchases between coding sprints.
Late in the day, a customer bought one of my last remaining statues. While sales were always good, the empty display window nagged at me. My storeroom was bare. I desperately needed money to restock.
I took a moment to check my email before closing. Yes, I was stalling.
Was I really this nervous about calling Ford?
One email caught my eye—a reply from one of the vendors I’d contacted about reinstating my credit. A small bubble of hope rose, but I squelched it. Easier to kill a tiny hope than one that’s grown too big.
I opened the email, expecting another rejection.
Then I froze.
I had to re-read the message. I’d finally gotten through to someone. A real person—one who was offering me a sixty-day credit cycle!
A squeal of joy escaped me, and Zephyr pranced with excitement, catching my mood.
“We did it, Zephyr!” I dropped to my knees, cupping his chin and kissing the top of his head. He let out a yip and started dancing with me.
I whirled back to my computer, shot off a thank-you email, and immediately placed an order. My store would be restocked by the end of the week. Success!
With that delicious taste of victory, I felt brave enough to face my next challenge.
Ford.
Before I could lose my nerve, I pulled out my phone, punched in his number, and?—
I hesitated.
Was I really this scared?
“Do it. Just do it,” I muttered, and pressed the call button.
“Hello?” Ford’s rich voice rumbled into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Hi. It’s Mara.”
There was a pause—a heartbeat of silence that made me panic. This was a mistake. A huge mistake.
“I was hoping I’d hear from you,” he said.
My heart fluttered. His words were perfect, undoing my panic in an instant.
His voice softened, intimate, making my stomach flip. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. The way I acted. I jumped to conclusions.”
“I appreciate that. You get bonus points for calling me. Was it hard?”
I wilted under the Wonder Woman poster. “You have no idea.”
He chuckled, the sound warm. “You aren’t the first to assume the worst of me. Probably not the last.”
That stung. I didn’t want to be part of that group. “I was wondering if your offer for coffee was still open?”
“Coffee?” He paused. “Sure.”
Did he sound... disappointed? Should I have asked him on a real date? My confidence wavered, like a game character losing all their HP after a big attack. I had nothing left to say. I’d spent it all just making this call.
“If it has to be on a Sunday when you’re closed, we’ll need to wait until next week,” Ford said. “I’m flying to L.A. tomorrow for a meeting.”
My self-confidence started dropping into the red zone, and I pulled on my ponytail, twisting it around the end of my hand. I’d blown it. “Are congratulations in order?”
“Not yet. I haven’t agreed to anything. I think the producer’s hoping to talk me into it.”
I stopped tugging at my hair and my hand fell limply to my side. Maybe I’d made the right decision in turning him down for a date. After all, I wanted someone who’d stick around. “How long will you be gone?”
“Just a few days. I plan to fly back on Monday. I need to close up my house there.”
My heart started to beat double-time as I stood up straight. “Wait. I’m confused. You’re moving here? Does that mean you aren’t planning to make that Superman film? Then why are you flying to Los Angeles? How long will you be gone?”
He laughed. “Which question should I answer first?”
I rolled my eyes at myself. I was such a smooth talker. “Your choice.”
“Even if I end up doing McCormick’s movie, I intend to do all the pre-production work from here. That’ll have to be part of the deal I negotiate with him. I need to spend more time with my dad. I haven’t been here enough since I moved away. Time keeps slipping away.”
I knew exactly what he meant. I often wished I could go back and recapture some of my lost time so I could have spent more of it with Chance.
Maybe that’s why I was so focused on the store now—our store—because I hadn’t been involved enough before.
The path that had brought me here to Sewickley had been paved with shattered ambitions. Ones I’d willingly sacrificed. It was the price I’d paid in order to turn our shared dream of owning a comic book shop into a reality.
I stilled. Sacrifice? Shattered dreams? Where were these thoughts coming from? I’d gladly made the decision to move forward with opening the store over a year ago. Why doubt myself now?
Zephyr let out a whine of impatience, pulling me to the present moment. He knew our evening routine, and by now we were usually out on a well-deserved ramble around town. “I have to go. Zephyr is begging for a walk. Pretty soon he’s going to start crossing his legs. Next step is peeing on the floor.”
Ford let out a low laugh. “I won’t keep you then. Let’s plan to meet a week from Sunday at Loco Mocha Cafe. Does noon work for you?”
“Sounds great. See you then,” I said, riding high on a new bubble of hope. Maybe by then, I’d be able to adjust to some of this newly found self-awareness and be in the right state of mind.
No, not maybe. I’d do it.