Chapter 32
I’m grateful the apartment is furnished, but I quickly realized furnished does not mean packed with all essentials. While I have a bed, couch, chairs, table, and other large items that a home needs for structure and organization, I lack the linens for the bed, the pillows for the couch, and items of a personal matter like the food I prefer and the clothes I’ll need for teaching again. I have a decent bit of savings to play with since I didn’t spend anything while staying with Marian. I can use that money to finally prepare my wardrobe, both to get warmer clothes for the upcoming Colorado winter and for teaching. I left a lot of my summery clothes in LA.
I tried to protest when Marian gave me a paycheck. Sure, I finished odds and ends while I was at the bed-and-breakfast, but I felt like a guest, not an employee. It’s not so easy to argue with Marian and win, though, and I feel like I need to take notes for future reference. That sweet and generous woman listed every single task I did and the estimated time invested.
It looks like I wasn’t a guest, but working here and there, and I appreciate the paycheck she presented me on my official moving day. It turns into a shopping day more than moving. For the better part of the morning, Lauren and Marian come shopping with me, talking me out of my frugal nature. Lauren “treats” me to the bedsheets that aren’t on clearance, and Marian insists the painting of an abstract flower is too pretty to pass up even though it has no functional purpose.
“Art is always functional,” she explains sagely even though I think she’s full of shit and do my best not to giggle. “It makes the brain function.”
Lauren cracks up too.
“Oh, hush, you two.” Marian giggles. “I just want to get you something nice to look at in your bedroom.”
I’d rather look at the masterpiece of a naked Dalton in my bedroom.
“A housewarming gift,” she adds.
“Then maybe you can buy me groceries instead.” I grin like an imp.
She laughs. “Another day. More guests are checking in. While I trust Caleb to handle it, I enjoy meeting them.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” I tell her.
After she and Lauren head back up Meadow Lane to the bed-and-breakfast, I set out to the nearest grocery store and fill a small cart with the essentials. I’m not a fancy cook, but I do know how to prepare meals. Before I turn to find the condiments, canned food, and most important, peanut butter, I bump into someone who vaguely looks familiar.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I step back and brush my hair from my eyes. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Me neither,” he confesses with a slight chuckle of embarrassment. It’s almost charming, but when he gazes at me for a full second, he snaps his fingers. “I thought you looked familiar.”
I smile. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“I teach fifth grade at the school. I think I saw you leaving your interview.” He nods, like he’s recalling it all. “And if I heard correctly, you’ll be joining us next week when the school year starts.”
“Yep! Third grade, look out.”
“You’ve been staying up on the mountain, right? My brother, Sawyer, does construction with Hayes. He told me he had dinner with you and your friend there.”
Aha. That’s why he stood out. “Yes! You two really look alike.”
He laughs softly. “We get that a lot. The dimples, the beard.”
I grin. “You sure you’re not twins?” They’re like mirror images.
“Nope. We get that a lot as well, but no.” He holds his hand out. “I’m Kevin.”
I shake his hand. “Aubrey. Aubrey Hart.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replies, then glances in my cart. “You don’t have any perishables in there, do you?”
I glance down and check. I don’t, because I always choose them last.
“Then how about a cup of coffee?” His smile is charming, and I don’t get any pushy, funky vibes from him. He’s not predatory like the men on his brother’s construction crew are, but still, accepting impromptu dates isn’t something I have practice with. Saying no and rejecting men is my norm. Back home, I never had time to date. Here, though…
What’s holding me back now?
I refrain from letting my sadness of missing Dalton take over me. He’s not here anymore. He chose not to be here anymore.
“Uh, now’s not a great time…”
I hate that I hedge. Where is that brave woman Lauren was talking about? I don’t feel like her right now.
“Oh. That’s fine.”
Fine. I hate that word.
“But tomorrow, I’m free.” I slap that reply—and acceptance—out there before I can think it through.
“Great!” He brightens and tells me where a good place to go would be. “And if Earl and Ken aren’t hogging the chessboard up front at the café, maybe we can play a game.” He winks. “I teach math, if it’s not obvious.”
Groan. I smile anyway. “I’ll see you then.”
After he leaves, I continue shopping and focus on my list of things to get. It’s neutral grounds. A bulleted list of things I need. No emotions. No analysis required. Because deep down, I get too near freaking out. I cannot believe I just said yes to a date like that. That’s not me. It’s not who I want to be, but on the flip side, I talk myself out of blowing it way out of proportion.
It’s just coffee. And chess.
I wince as I scan the ingredients of a mustard that sounds interesting.
Chess. With a math guy.
Of all the subjects. If he tries to talk shop and discuss anything related to the subject he teaches, I’ll risk staring at him with boredom like one of the students he likely teaches.
It’s not a date though.
If I look bored, then I’ll be bored. I don’t have to impress him. I don’t have to even like him.
I don’t know him to like him. We literally just met.
“Stop,” I whisper to myself.
I’m already getting carried away with the enormity of what I’ve agreed to. A date. Or not-a-date. Either way, whichever it ends up being and however Kevin intends it to be, it doesn’t sit well with me, like I’m forcing myself too hard, like I’m expecting too many changes to happen too soon.
I haven’t moved on from Dalton, not at all. He’s always on my mind, and as I finish shopping, check out, then lug my two bags onto my arms for the short walk to my apartment, it’s him I can’t stop thinking about. Not the new guy who is showing clear interest in me.
Glancing up at the intersection, I check that the pedestrian light has changed. That’s when I see him. It’s kismet. It’s fate. It’s the uncanny timing of a coincidence in this universe that he’s right there on the other side of the street striding down the path.
“Dalton!” I yell across the street, but he doesn’t stop walking.
A hat covers his head, giving him more of a Coloradoan and outdoorsy ruggedness than the fancy suit he’s probably more used to in the city. His dark hair is visible beneath the edge of the knitted headgear, and I’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. From this distance, he’s as tall as ever, and his long, jean-clad legs eat up the sidewalk as he walks further from the intersection.
“Dalt—” I give up on shouting his name. He’s too far to hear me, and as soon as the light changes, I run. My bags smack against me. That bread will be a smushed mess now. People glance at me or smirk with dirtier looks when I almost barrel through the people to rush after Dalton.
I can’t believe he’s actually here. He’s come back! I don’t know why he’d be downtown. Maybe Lauren directed him here. Something. It’s just a miracle that he’s really, truly here in the flesh!
I panic that I’ll lose him and pick up my pace. I’m not a runner. I’ve tried to embrace it because it’s just another way to be outside, but I’m too short, too flat-footed to make it happen. As it is, I sprint as fast as I can. Once I’m close enough, I resist the giddy urge to call his name, lunging forward instead to grab his arm and surprise him.
“Dalton.” I grab nothing. The second I touch the arm, he wrenches away, saying “Whoa!”
It’s not his voice. It’s not him. The man who spins to face me, probably thinking I was trying to grab him or take his wallet, is not Dalton. From a distance and through the lens of missing him, he almost resembles the man I yearn for. But it’s not him.
I end up crashing into him. Cracks and crumbles within my bags prove I’ve smashed the crackers too. He lifts his arms and catches me before we both topple over. “Whoa. Are you alright? Is someone after you?”
Tears burn again as I shake my head. I feel so stupid, so out of sorts. I could have sworn it was him, but now I see that it’s nothing but my wishes being projected onto reality.
“No, no one is after me.” Just the demon of my mistakes.
“Oh.” He gives me another doubtful look, then glances at the grocery bags I’ve smushed between us when I smacked into him.
Crap. I hope he’s not the parent of one of my new students. If I have to face him at a parent-teacher conference, it’ll be so awkward.
I go home to my apartment and close the door. My heart continues to sink, heavy with so much sadness that it hurts to breathe fully. I lock the door and pace. I’m not acting like myself, chasing down strangers like a wacko.
I can’t keep this up. I need to have my wits about me, and in an edgy moment of wishing I could speak to him and hear his voice, I pull my phone out of my pocket. Back and forth, I wear down the tread in the older carpet of my new home. I pace, then pace some more, all the while I hold my phone like a lifeline. I’m about to call him. I rehearse what I want to say, but it doesn’t matter how many times I trek from one wall to the other, none of my rehearsals feel right.
I’m still too cautious, and I change my mind, locking my phone from the calling icon.
I sink to the floor, sliding my back along the closed door. On the carpet, I curl on myself, resting my head on my arms that I’ve folded on top of my knees.
I’m all cried out, and with dry but irritated eyes, I zone out at the carpet at my feet.
Will I ever get over him? Regret washes over me and I cringe, knowing I should’ve been honest with him about how I felt. Now, there is not a single thing I can do.
He’s probably back together with Johanna, anyway, living his life as he wants at home.
While I’ll try to make my existence matter with a gaping hole in my heart.