Chapter 28
“What do you think of Charleston?” Mike asked, glancing down at Buddy as he trotted beside him, the leash slack. “I grew up here.”
Buddy’s ears flicked, but he kept pace.
“I guess you might already be familiar with the city,” Mike continued. “I don’t know where you’re from. We don’t live here. Our home is in L.A., which is very different. And, in some ways, not.”
Buddy glanced up briefly, then moved forward again, content simply to walk beside his new owner.
“See that building up ahead?” Mike pointed to a plain, two-story slump-block structure behind a wide asphalt parking lot.
“That’s where I went to high school.” They passed the long building and stopped in front of a sleek concrete-and-glass structure rising four stories high.
A columned portico created a shaded gathering space by the entrance, and three sets of double glass doors reflected the winter sky.
Buddy sat in the heel position without being asked.
Mike smiled. “Show-off. That’s the performing arts building for the entire school district,” he said. “It’s the first building I designed after I graduated from architecture school. Before I married my ex-wife and moved to L.A. to start my own firm.”
He scrutinized the facade. “I’d extend the upper windows another six inches toward the roof if I were designing it now. And bring the portico out another couple of feet. But …” He nodded. “It still looks good.”
The marquee announced holiday closure and advertised an eighth-grade band concert in January.
A car pulled into the otherwise empty parking lot and stopped along the far curb.
A woman in jeans, UGG boots, a puffer vest, and a knit cap stepped out.
Something about the way she moved, familiar and fluid, made Mike straighten.
She opened her trunk and looped plastic shopping bags over both arms until she could hardly move. As she reached to close the trunk, the weight of the bags shifted. She fell backward onto the asphalt with a thud. Items scattered across the pavement.
Mike took off at a sprint. “Are you all right?” he called.
Buddy bounded alongside him, tail high.
The woman turned her head.
Recognition hit both of them at once.
“Megan?” Mike said, extending his hand.
“Mike,” she breathed, placing her hand in his.
He pulled her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing at the seat of her jeans—and spilling more supplies. “Just mortified to run into you like this.”
Buddy circled once around her boots, sniffed approvingly, and then sat neatly at her feet as if evaluating her character.
Megan laughed. “Well … hello to you, too.” She crouched and offered her hand.
Buddy leaned into it, his nose working overtime.
Mike reached out and relieved her of the bags she was carrying.
“You’ve always been a knight-in-shining-armor kind of guy,” she said, smiling at him. “Every girl in our class was jealous that I was your girlfriend.”
The phrase landed like a spark in dry tinder. Knight in shining armor. Lauren’s voice echoed in his mind. He forced his attention back to Megan. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I teach art at the high school now. My classroom’s behind the performing arts building. I hit a clearance sale and figured I’d drop everything off before the holiday.”
“You’re buying supplies out of your own pocket.” It was a statement, not a question.
She lifted a shoulder. “Show me a public school teacher who doesn’t.”
They walked together toward the classroom entrance. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, their stride still in sync and their conversation easy. Inside the classroom, sunlight filtered through tall windows onto trays of paint and student canvases stacked along the wall.
“Let’s set them on that table,” she said, pointing.
He did, then stepped back to take in the space. “You always wanted this,” he said.
“I did.” She smiled. “And I still do. I love it.” She locked the classroom door behind them. “Thank you for appearing out of nowhere.”
“Feels like destiny,” Mike said lightly.
She laughed. “Let’s not tell our mothers that. They’ve never given up hope.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m happy here,” she continued. “And you’re rooted in L.A.” She hesitated just long enough to acknowledge the shared past. “Besides, I’m seeing someone. It’s early, but I think he might be the one.”
A faint current that might once have been longing passed between them and dissolved.
“I’m glad,” Mike said sincerely. They reached her car.
“How about you?” she asked. “Found your person?”
Mike inhaled slowly. He thought of a rerouted flight and a hotel in Raleigh.
Of flannel pajamas. And a woman whose eyes and smile were etched into his brain.
A woman who he had no idea how to find. He gave Megan a small, honest smile.
“I’ve been on the dating apps, without success,” he said.
He reached down and ruffled Buddy’s ears. “For now, this guy’s enough.”
Buddy leaned against his leg as if to confirm it.
Megan studied him for a beat, sensing something more there. “Well,” she said, “whoever she is, she’s going to be very lucky.”
Mike watched her drive away.
Buddy pressed his head against Mike’s thigh. Mike looked down at him. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m working on it.”