Chapter Four Vivien
It doesn’t register at first. I don't even put my book down. In my experience text messages at that time of night are almost certainly from my ex-husband. Now Drew's finally asleep down the hall and the house has that ticking quiet old houses get after dark.
Then the phone buzzes a second time on the arm of the couch. I've got one finger holding my place in my book. I glance at the screen and see the name Thoran. Then my heart does something embarrassing.
He asked for my number. He asked for it, and somehow I still didn't expect him to actually use it.
Thoran: No construction scheduled for tomorrow. You're all good.
Me: Good to know. Thanks again for today.
There, that should be it. It’s a complete transaction. A man told me when the saw would be off, I thanked him, and there is no further business between us.
But my phone buzzes again. This time I let my book fall all the way to the floor.
Thoran: Today was a good day. You got your sign up and I got to meet the coolest kid.
Heat floods my whole face. I press the back of my hand to my cheek like that's going to help. I catch myself grinning at a screen in a dark living room like a teenager with a crush.
Me: It was a good day.
That's it. That's got to be it… But I'm wrong again.
He asks about the dog Drew found and whether the owner ever noticed he was gone. Then he asks why I moved up from Peony Pointe. I tell him more than I mean to. It’s not everything, but it’s more than I’d usually share.
My thumbs go faster than my judgment. Chatting with him is easy in a way that scares me a little. He types slow and answers plain. There are no games in any of it. Every time the three dots appear I stop reading whatever I was pretending to read and let my heart thud out of my chest.
At 9:52 I'm still holding my phone.
By 10:30 I'm lying on my back with the book tossed on the other side of the room and the awful, dawning certainty that nothing in my life is ever going to be quite the same again.
I fall asleep somewhere between asking about his plans for the fire station and answering his question about my favorite genre.
I wake up to an emoji. A simple smiling face that somehow knocks the wind out of me. I look at it for longer than an emoji warrants. Then I get up and make coffee and burn the sourdough toast because I'm still thinking about it.
The next few days pass in a blur of text messages.
My heart leaps in my chest every time I feel the ping of a new message.
I keep my phone at arm’s length. The days feel extra special.
My feet feel like they’re floating. It's all very high school. I know it’s extremely uncool for a divorced mom rapidly approaching forty, but I can’t seem to care.
Thoran has captivated me in a way I didn’t see coming.
By the time I sit down at Lumberjills Cafe for the planning meeting for Lumberjack Days, texting Thoran is just a part of my life. I have to force myself to pull my attention anywhere other than the three dots I know will be illuminating my phone.
I have my notebook squared in front of me. It’s the good one, with the tabs. Adler Oakes is talking through details and I'm trying to find a gap I can fill for this community I love so much. I’m two minutes into writing when the silver bell chimes over the door and Thoran walks in.
My heart nearly stops as he nods at the room. The gesture is casual and collected. Then he pushes two tables together, one-handed, like they weigh nothing, and joins us like it's the most natural thing in the world.
He sits down directly across from me. He’s close enough that I can smell sawdust and clean cotton. He’s even more handsome than I remembered, which does not seem fair at nine in the morning.
Adler asks individual tables to discuss something about a food vendor, but there’s no way I can pay attention to anything other than the way Thoran’s eyes bore into mine.
Jules slides into the booth beside me and puts a hand on my arm. That jolts me back to the present.
She smiles at me, but there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she’s got something up her sleeve. "Don't hate me. Okay?"
"Why would I hate you? You make the best coffee in town,” I laugh.
"Well, I nominated you two to be our Lumberjack Lovers for the festival."
My pen stops. "What two? Us two?” My eyes flick from her to Thoran and back again.
Thoran lets out a strangled noise that lands somewhere between shock and a chuckle.
"Yes, precisely! I got to thinking you two are both single.
You look stunning together. And—" she raises a finger before I can get going, "—the Lumberjack Lover couple gets the front-page advertising slot in the program. The whole page, Vivien. Think about how many new pups come walking through that door. It’s a win for everyone involved. "
"I hate to point out the obvious, but they’re supposed to be a real couple. Sponsors buy into the dream because they think it’s a reality and I’ve got the whole fire station at stake here." There's a laugh buried in Thoran's voice. He hasn't looked away from me once.
"Well, a real couple at any stage of a relationship is a real couple. Know what I mean?" Jules shrugs. "This town has eyes and I see everything. I call it like I see it. So, is that a yes?"
And then, she winks at him. Winks.
I open my mouth. I have several things to say, all of them reasonable. For example, I can’t be in a fake relationship, I have a son. I’m new in town. I’ve only been divorced for a year. Thoran looks like he walked off a firefighter calendar. We hardly know each other.
But I get out exactly none of them because Jules is already standing up. Before I can stop her she’s tapping a spoon against the side of her mug and turning to face the room with her whole face lit up.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Get ready to cross this off your agenda."
"Jules, I don’t—”
"We have our Lumberjack Lovers."