Chapter 7
chapter seven
Busy
“You’re going to hurt your back if you keep lifting it that way.”
I turn and pin Andy with my eyes. “You’re going to hurt your mouth if you don’t keep your thoughts to yourself.”
Andy laughs and rubs his hands together. “Oooh, someone’s testy today.”
“Not testy,” I correct him. “Focused.”
“Hey, if that’s how you see it…” he replies, smiling.
Rolling my eyes, I return my attention to the bookshelf we just finished maneuvering into place. These things are really heavy, but the last thing I want today is my brother-in-law, who I love on most occasions, giving me advice on how to lift something. I’ll do it how I want, thank you very much.
Okay, so maybe I’m a bit testy.
It’s been a long few days of unloading box after box after box of books, plus finishing up the last bit of paint on the back wall once Briar picked a new shade of green. Now, we’re setting up the shelves, and they are far heavier than I was expecting. Not to mention the temps in Cedar Point have been rising steadily, which wouldn’t be such a problem if there wasn’t also a record high in humidity. Junie hasn’t been sleeping well, and neither have I.
So, yeah, not quite at my best today.
I move over to where the last bookshelf is waiting in the corner. I squat, bracing my core, and once Andy has counted it off, we lift and walk it over to the opposite wall.
“You’re right,” I tell him, once we’ve gotten it in the right spot. “It was easier your way. Sorry for being a brat. It’s just been a long week.”
He shrugs, an easy smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it, Busy. We all have off days. You need any more help before I head out?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve got it from here. Thanks.”
Andy gives me a wave then heads into the office where Briar is working to say goodbye to her, leaving me to the rest of my work.
Things in the store are picking up pace, Briar’s vision beginning to truly come together the closer and closer we get to opening day. The plan is to open Happily Ever After on Fourth of July weekend to capitalize on the crowds, so the pressure of that looming date, less than ten days away, makes every moment feel important. Thankfully, it feels like the last true task is to get the books on the shelves. Though it would feel a lot easier to do if we had more hands than just mine and Briar’s.
I make quick work of wiping down all the shelves now that they’re all in place, and then I take a break, wandering out onto Main Street and over to Ugly Mug. With how poorly I’ve been sleeping, splurging on some caffeine to boost me up for the rest of the day doesn’t feel like a waste.
Once I have my coffee in hand, I take a seat outside in the shade, enjoying the light breeze that’s funneling off the lake and wafting through downtown. Now, if only that breeze would blow the other way and whip through my house. That would be something special.
My phone rings, and when I look at the screen, my heart falls.
Incoming Call: Jay
I know why he’s calling. I can feel it in my bones. And to be honest, right now, I don’t have the strength to deal with it, another instance of him letting Junie down—letting me down. I send it to voicemail, slip my sunglasses on, and take another sip of my iced coffee.
Jay is the kind of guy who likes to believe he’s a stand-up man, but in reality, he does whatever it is that makes him the most happy, regardless of anyone else. What that looks like is an inability to be faithful in a relationship, a lack of interest in showing up when he says he will, and absolutely no clue why someone he has let down is upset with him.
It’s pretty infuriating.
Thankfully, I clocked the kind of man he was beneath all that smooth charm, which allowed me to make decisions with logic instead of emotion—not an easy feat when your body is overwhelmed by hormones. If I had gone by pure emotion, Jay and I would be married right now, he’d be cheating on me left and right, and I’d still be at home by myself with a toddler.
Cheers to choosing a better life for my kid over a man.
Once I’ve finished most of my coffee, I head back across the street, intent on returning to the bookstore. But as I do, my eyes flick across the businesses on Main Street, snagging on Cohen Custom just a few doors down.
Before I can think too much about why I want to pop in, I walk the short distance and tug open one of the two glass doors, heading inside. It’s been years since I’ve been in this place, but it still smells exactly the same: like freshly cut pine and that earthy scent that comes from old leather. It takes me back to the days when I would slip in here and wander around, sitting in all the different chairs, as if there was any chance I would be buying a piece of furniture. In reality, I was taking my sweet time, hoping to run into Reid. Just over a decade later, clearly, not a lot has changed.
I step up next to a beautiful wooden chair with a dark green leather cushion and take a seat, loving the way my body sinks into it, like it’s already been broken in. I could use a chair like this back at the house. I mean, I could use any living room furniture, but this is just so…
I flip up the price tag and wince.
Shit. More than a month of my rent. No wonder it’s so damn comfortable.
“That chair is one of a kind.”
I glance up, smiling at the employee. Heather, I think. The daughter of one of my mom’s friends. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Each of our pieces are crafted from some of the best wood in the country, cut right here in Northern California. And the leather you’re sitting on was made using natural tanning methods. So, no toxic chemicals.”
I nod then rub my hand along the soft grain of the armrest. “It’s beautiful.”
“Are you interested in purchasing a piece for your home today?”
Twisting my lips, I shake my head. “Unfortunately no. I don’t think it’s in my budget.”
“We do offer layaway. The owner usually handles that. I can call him, if you’d like.”
I glance behind her. “Oh, is Reid not here?”
Her smile widens. “He is. But he spends most of his time making furniture at the warehouse. I can let him know you’re here, Miss…”
I shake my head, feeling thankful that she doesn’t seem to recognize me. Having been away for a while has its perks.
“I don’t want to bother him while he’s working.” A lie and a truth. “But thanks for your help.”
“Well, we’ll be here if you change your mind.”
Nodding, I take another minute to admire things before I push up out of the chair. It’s better that Reid’s not here. Perfect actually. I got a bit of my nostalgia out, gave in to my impulse, and didn’t get myself into any trouble in the process.
Because that’s all that can come from me wandering over to his shop in the middle of a work day—trouble.
Sure, it might be completely normal for a neighbor to pop in to say hello at work, but I’m not here to be neighborly. I’m here to flirt, to assuage that thing inside of me that likes the way his eyes rove over my body when I walk toward him.
But after our almost-not-a-kiss a few nights ago, I know that mentality is foolish. It’s one thing to flirt, to feel that pitter-patter in your chest because you’ve garnered some attention. It’s quite another to let things become physical. And I’ll be honest, I was a hair’s breadth away from pushing up onto my toes and planting my lips against his as he hovered behind me in the doorway.
It would be far too easy to fall for a man like Reid Cohen. Kind. Considerate. Handsome.
God , is he handsome.
But like I’ve said to myself over and over…there’s just too much risk in getting involved with someone, with anyone. Not only for me, but for my daughter.
And with that final thought, I give Heather a pinched smile and head back out to Main Street and over to the bookstore. Back to reality, leaving the daydream behind with my teenage self.
Junie giggles, her head of blonde curls whipping around her face as she swings away from me. Then momentum brings her back and I grab the toddler-style seat.
“Ready?” I ask, stretching out the word as I hold her up, bringing her a bit higher, holding her in place to heighten the suspense.
“Swing!” she says, her tiny fingers holding tight to the black rubber seat as she waits in anticipation.
She lets out a joyful shriek as I let go, swinging away from me in a long arc again. We’ve done this same thing about twenty times, and her enthusiasm hasn’t waned. It’s one of those things about kids that blows my mind, how they like doing the same thing over and over and over again, never getting tired of it.
My arms are certainly tired of it, though, and after a few more minutes, I tug her out of the swing and set her on the ground. She totters happily over to a boy sitting in the sand pit, playing with yellow Tonka trucks and scooping sand into a bucket. She plops right down next to him and picks up one of his toys, and the two begin playing together.
If only friendship stayed that easy as we get older.
The playground at Cedar Point Elementary is much more conducive to toddler play than the modest park I used to take Junie to near campus when she first started to walk. It was rare for other kids to be there, so she often just wandered around with me hovering close as she plucked grass out of the earth and picked up leaves. I know she had fun exploring, but I always wished there were more kids around so she had someone to play with. It’s nice to see other kids and parents here on a midweek evening, letting their kids get out their wiggles and socialize as the sun sets on the weekend.
When my mom suggested I check out the playground for a place Junie could run around like a nut, I nodded and promptly set the thought aside. Kids thrive on routine, and getting my daughter home for dinner felt more important. But once I got in my car, I realized the real reason I wanted to head back to the cabin wasn’t because I wanted to get Junie home for anything. It was because I was hoping to have a run-in with Reid when he inevitably stops by the house looking for Sydney, who continues to jailbreak the blue cabin to make her way over to hang out with us.
Instead of heading home, I turned and drove directly to the elementary school. A smarter decision, and one Junie is enjoying immensely, even if I’m left to wonder what Reid’s reaction was when he got home and we weren’t there.
I shake my head. He probably doesn’t care at all, and thinking otherwise is a recipe for disaster.
“She’s so cute.”
I turn toward a very put-together-looking woman sitting on a nearby bench and smile, thankful for the brief reprieve from my own thoughts.
“Thank you,” I reply, stepping in her direction, trying not to be self-conscious of my stained pants and plain gray tank that I’m pretty sure has a hole somewhere near my belly button. It didn’t seem to matter when I was heading out the door to work because I knew I’d be a sweaty mess today, but for some reason, it feels like it matters now.
“Is that your son?” I ask, dipping my head in the direction of where Junie and the boy are playing together.
She nods as I drop down on the other end of the bench. “Yes, that’s Leo. I’m Marie.”
“Oh, Marie.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Lois’ daughter, right?”
Her head tilts to the side, then recognition hits her. “Oh my goodness, Busy!” She stands and walks toward me, surprising me when she wraps me in a hug. “How have you been? You’ve grown up so much!”
Chuckling, we both take a seat. “Good, I’ve been good.”
“And you have a daughter. I thought I heard about that from my mom.”
A gracious way to say she heard about my unplanned pregnancy through my mom gossiping with hers. The reality of small-town life.
“I do. Her name is Junie.”
Marie looks over to where Junie and Leo are playing. “What a cute name.”
We both watch our kids for a moment in easy silence. If I remember correctly, Marie is around the same age as Boyd and Briar, though I can’t recall whether any of them were friends. She’s also Reid’s cousin, the two of them growing up super close, almost more like siblings.
Licking my lips, I look back toward where our kids are playing, trying my best to shove all thoughts of Reid to the side.
“How are you liking being back in town?”
I cross my legs and rest my hands in my lap, nodding. “It’s going good, I guess?” Then I shrug. “It’s an adjustment, for sure. But I know we’re better off here than we were before. Being near family, especially.”
Marie’s eyes turn soft. “Change is always hard, but it’s so much easier when you have a great support system. My mom mentioned that Patty’s watching Junie?”
“Yeah. It’s been amazing, having that kind of help.”
“I know what you mean. Mom used to watch my daughter Nina, until she started pre-K this year, and she does the same with Leo.”
My shoulders droop, relief coursing through me at the fact that Marie is in a similar situation as me, relying on her parents for help with her kids. There’s a kind of guilt I feel, leaning on my mom, needing her help.
It might be because things between us are strained right now, but I know it’s mostly because I feel like if I had been married or had my life more together when I finally had a kid, I wouldn’t have to rely on her like this.
“Do you ever feel guilty?” I ask her, feeling suddenly desperate to get someone else’s thoughts. “I mean, my mom used to garden all the time and do farmer’s markets and play bunco with her friends. Now she’s a nanny, and I keep waiting for her to get sick of it.”
Marie smiles. “She’s not a nanny . She’s a grandmother ,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “My guess, knowing Patty, is she wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t want to have that time with your daughter—if she didn’t want to help you .” She shrugs. “My mom quit working at One Stop to watch Nina when she was born, and my husband and I didn’t even need her to. She just wanted the responsibility. She said it gave her a ‘renewed purpose’ when she was starting to feel like her usefulness on earth was waning, though she tends to be kind of dramatic.”
I laugh at that, even as I consider what she’s just said. I feel surprisingly buoyed by her response. It hadn’t ever occurred to me that, yes, my mom is doing something amazing for me, but there’s also probably something she gets out of it, too.
“That’s actually…really helpful,” I tell her, grinning sheepishly. “Thanks for sharing.”
“No problem.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the sun and watching our kids giggle as they dump out all the sand they just finished putting into the bucket.
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re up to on Friday morning,” Marie says a few minutes later, bringing my attention back to her, “but I have a group of women who come over to my house every week. The kids run around in the yard and we sit around complaining and drinking mimosas. It makes me feel a lot more sane to chat with other moms who get what I’m going through. Do you want to come?”
Warmth blooms in my chest at the unexpected invitation. I literally can’t imagine something I want more.
“I would love to. Let me just check with my sister? I’m working for her at the bookstore, so I want to make sure it’s okay for me to shuffle around my hours.”
Marie smiles, and I smile back. It’s been a long time since I’ve made a new friend, and being a single mom during my last year of college meant the few friends I did have scattered faster than I ever could have imagined. It never even occurred to me to hang out with other moms because there just weren’t any.
But it makes sense, the idea that spending time with women who also have kids would be cathartic somehow. A chance to find people who understand how incredibly hard it is.
Marie and I chat for a bit longer, until she leaves with Leo, letting me know she’s looking forward to seeing me in a few days.
The entire interaction leaves me with a kind of uplifted feeling I haven’t experienced in quite some time. Pregnancy and motherhood have been—for the most part—incredibly lonely. This…makes me feel like there are good things around the corner, like this is a sign of what’s to come.
I guess I can only hope.