Tess in Boots

by Courtney Rice Gager

  “Well, maybe you should. Maybe it’d be good for you.” The way he said it reminded me of our conversation about the grapevines from earlier. Like he wasn’t talking about ribs and fries at all.

  I looked up at him, and he winked.

  “Dig in, Boots.”

  There was no proper way to eat ribs, I decided. I tried for a few minutes, picking at them gingerly with my fork. But in the end I grabbed them with my hands and went for it. It wasn’t like this was a date.

  Or was it? I couldn’t decide.

  Whatever it was, I was having a great time, and it was easy talking to Thatcher. I filled him in on the details of our first official wedding at Carl’s Creek.

  He nodded. “See, that’s how you do it. You send your personal assistant to do all the dirty work, and then you show up to enjoy the party.”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s kind of sad. Every girl dreams of planning her own wedding. It’s part of the fun.”

  “Nah. Let someone else handle all the details. Someone who knows what they’re doing.”

  “I wouldn’t say I know what I’m doing.”

  “Sure you do. You enjoy it at least, right?”

  I popped my last fry into my mouth and thought about it for a moment. “I think so, yes. It’s hard to tell because there’s such a tight deadline, which complicates things and adds a lot of extra stress. But aside from that, yes. I do enjoy it.”

  “Well that’s the first step to being good at something,” he said.

  “I guess.”

  “You ever think about doing it for a living?”

  “What? Planning weddings?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shut the lid of the Styrofoam container as I mulled it over. It was hard to picture becoming a full-time wedding planner, but then again it was hard for me to picture any career change at all. I’d spent the past few years with laser-like focus on a single path. I was never the type to be easily distracted. Plus, I had Logan, who was even more driven than I was. Once, I signed up for evening pottery classes. Logan didn’t approve. “What are you wasting time doing that for?” he asked. “You can’t make a living selling lopsided bowls, Tess.”

  A voice on the microphone interrupted my thoughts. “All right, y’all. Feet down, tables up!”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “That, Boots, means it’s time to dance. Hop up.”

  I stood up and watched as the whole place sprung into motion with practiced efficiency. The people who sat at the tables on the outside perimeter stood up and pushed their tables flush against the wall. The people in the middle of the restaurant flipped and stacked their tables on top of those. They were like some sort of well-rehearsed stage crew. In no time at all, a large clearing formed in the middle of the room.

  A dance floor, I realized.

  Thatcher disappeared for a moment to move our table, but he was back by my side as loud music came blaring through the speakers.

  “You know how to two-step?” he shouted the question into my ear.

  “How to what?”

  He laughed. “I thought so. Come on.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  It was true. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been dancing. Logan wouldn’t dance, not even at weddings, and he wasn’t too keen on me dancing, either. “Some things are best left to the professionals,” he said.

  Thatcher smiled as he took my hand and helped me hop out of the truck. “I’m glad. I had fun, too.”

  We walked up the front steps of the cottage, and I dug around my purse for the key. I found it and turned to face him.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Thank you. And you’re very welcome.”

  “Well… good night.”

  I stood there for a while, taking in the sounds of the crickets and the cool night air, not quite sure what to do. Should I kiss him? I wondered. No. Not again. But maybe he’ll kiss me. Maybe if I just lean in a little—

  “Boots?”

  The sound of his voice brought me back into the moment like I was waking up from a dream.

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re waiting for me to kiss you, aren’t you?”

  I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard you. And I am not.” How did he know?

  “Sure seems like it,” he said. “The trouble is, I don’t kiss girls with boyfriends. I mean, sometimes they kiss me. But I can’t help that.”

  I couldn’t quite make out his expression in the moonlight. Was he joking? It was hard to tell. But I wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

  “Good night, Thatcher.”

  “Don’t be mad. I know you want me to kiss you. But I can’t. I have my standards, you know.”

  His tone became lighter, and I could tell he was teasing me. “Get out of here!” I swatted at him and missed.

  “I’m going, I’m going.” He put his hands up and backed away.

  “Well, good.” I turned my key in the door and it opened.

  “For what it’s worth, I want to kiss you, too,” he said.

  My knees buckled.

  “But not until you get rid of the boyfriend,” he added. “And maybe work on your two-step while you’re at it. If we’re gonna get married someday, you’ve gotta learn to two-step.”

  “Good night, Thatcher.”

  I stepped inside and heard him chuckling to himself as I shut the door and turned the lock.

  I was in the cottage for about two or three minutes when a soft knock came at the door. I opened it up, assuming it was Jake coming to check on me.

  “Hey.” Thatcher stood there with his thumbs tucked into his pockets and his face contorted into a mischievous grin.

  I sucked in my breath. I spent the whole night looking at him, but seeing him again sent electricity running through my veins.

  I stepped back a little. “Hey. Long time no see. Did you forget something?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I was hoping you would kiss me again. And you didn’t.”

  I crossed my arms. “I thought you didn’t kiss girls with boyfriends.”

  “I don’t. But like I said, sometimes they kiss me.”

  “Well not tonight they don’t. Good night, Thatcher.” I placed a hand on the door and began to close it.

  “Why not tonight?” he asked, right before the door closed.

  I opened the door back up with a sigh. “Because I’m not the type of girl who would initiate a kiss in the first place.”

  “But you did kiss me. So what’s the deal there?”

  “Yeah. I did, huh?” I looked at my boots and kept my gaze fixed on them. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan it. But I… I just wanted to all the sudden.”

  He took a step forward and put a hand on my waist. “I know the feeling.”

  I looked from the boots to his hand touching me. There was something unfamiliar and yet distinctly comfortable about his touch. It occurred to me then that Jake or Sara might peek out their window and see us there.

  “Do you want to come inside for a second?” I asked.

  He nodded, and stepped through the threshold. I turned to face him, reaching behind me to close the door.

  “Look, Tess. There’s something about you.” He averted his gaze for a second, smiling a little and clearing his throat before looking back at me. “You’re special. And I know you’re not the kind of girl to initiate a kiss. I knew it the second I saw that horrified look on your face at the firehouse. You have a sort of… I can’t describe it. You’re different. I like that about you. I like a lot of things about you. But I don’t want to be this guy.”

  “What guy?” My voice was a whisper.

  “The guy who gets in between you and—you know.”

  Without even realizing it, I reached out to touch him, grabbing both his hands and pulling him closer to me. “It’s over with Logan,” I said. “It has been for a long time
.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  He set his lips into a straight line and looked over my head.

  “I’ll talk to him,” I said. “I promise. But it’s over. Talking to him is a formality. And… I think you’re special, too.”

  “You do?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re sure it’s over?”

  I nodded again, and there was a long pause before he spoke again. “That’s good. Because I’m done fighting this, Tess. I can’t—” He stopped mid-sentence and bent down to kiss me.

  The first time we kissed, it was slow and sweet, but this was different. This was intense. My knees gave out a little, and I leaned against the door to keep from falling over. I felt him lift his hands to the back of my head and tangle his fingers in my hair.

  The seconds melted into one another and I lost track of time. I knew I should stop him, before things got too intense. And he was right; I did need to talk to Logan. Even if he was a two-timing jerk. It was the decent thing to do.

  But I didn’t want to stop him. Not yet.

  My mind played ping-pong with itself.

  Stop him.

  Don’t stop.

  Stop!

  No, don’t. Definitely don’t.

  But in the end, I didn’t have to make a decision. Three quick knocks sounded from the door behind me and we both froze. Adrenaline surged through me when I heard Jake’s voice call out, “Tessy?”

  My eyes widened. “You have to go,” I mouthed.

  Thatcher’s head bobbed up and down in a reluctant nod as he backed away. I tiptoed to the French doors and turned the handle. He took my hand and kissed it, letting out a soft groan of disappointment as he stepped through the open door.

  “Tessy? Are you in there?” Jake’s voice got louder. He pounded on the door with his fist.

  “Go!” I whispered. I smiled, but my tone was serious.

  He turned to leave, holding my hand for as long as he could before our fingertips slid apart.

  I made a hasty attempt to smooth my hair as I opened the front door for Jake. “Hey.” I flashed him a smile that I hoped seemed casual.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Huh?”

  “It took you a while to answer the door.”

  “Did it?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shrugged. “Oh. Sorry about that. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I felt like I should come check on you is all,” he said.

  “Well, here I am. Do you want to come in?”

  He craned his neck and looked behind me, scanning the empty cottage. “No need. How did it go with Vivian today?”

  “Great. We’re on track. You know, as much as possible, given the circumstances.”

  “Good.” Jake nodded. “Glad to hear it. All right, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi. I guess I’ll head back.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Same to you.” He hesitated before asking, “Hey, was Thatcher over here? I thought I saw his truck.”

  I gulped. “Thatcher? Yeah, he was. For a second.”

  “What was he doing here?”

  “Um, well…” I knew I couldn’t lie to Jake if I tried, but I wasn’t about to tell him the whole truth, either. “I was going into town, and it turned out we were heading to the same place, so he gave me a ride.”

  Jake looked relieved. “Oh. Good. I had this crazy thought you guys were…”

  “What?” I looked at him as innocently as I could.

  “Forget it. Anyway, I’m glad things went well today. Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?”

  “Can’t. Viv and I are going to the florist.”

  He nodded. “I understand. It’s just… I miss you, Tessy. I don’t get to see you enough anymore.”

  “I know. I miss you, too. We’ll hang out soon, I promise.”

  “All right. Good night, Tessy.”

  “Good night, Jake.”

  When he was gone, I shut the door and leaned against it for a bit, replaying the night in my mind. Thatcher was right. It was time to talk to Logan and end things. Officially. From what I could tell, he already ended things with me a long time ago, but I needed some actual closure. A line in the sand, something to make me feel like it was okay to move on.

  Maybe I would call him right now and tell him it was over; tell him I met someone. That I wished him the best, and I’d drop off his stuff when I got back home.

  “Do it Tess. Do it, while you have the nerve.” My voice was a quiet whisper in the stillness of the cottage. I walked over to my purse, pulling my phone out and looking down at it. A new text message. I opened it.

  Unbelievable. It was from Logan.

  Hey sweetheart. I got your note. Take all the time you need. I love you.

  A text message? A text message? I hadn’t heard from him in over two weeks. For much of that time, I waited by the phone for him like an idiot. And this was all he had to say? No mention of the fact he hadn’t been in touch at all? Like it was normal or something?

  It was funny. As much as I hoped Logan would contact me, now that he had, I was fuming. A text message. After all this time? Who did he think he was?

  It was plain inconsiderate, that’s what it was. Before I could stop myself, I dialed his number. I was going to do more than tell him it was over. I was going to give him a piece of my mind. The phone rang once, twice, three times. I checked the time. It was after one in the morning. He would be sleeping.

  After a few more rings, the call went to voicemail. I held my breath impatiently as his greeting played. And then, something unexpected happened.

  One minute, I was all ready to launch into a full-blown tirade. But as soon as I heard the sound of his voice on the recording, my anger somehow dissolved. Hearing him again brought back years of emotion. I felt sad, and afraid to lose him, and guilty over what happened with Thatcher. The feeling was so raw, and so unexpected I couldn’t possibly control it.

  When the greeting ended, a long beep signaled the start of my message. And instead of telling him how rotten he was for leaving me hanging, seeing someone else, and then sending me a text message as if nothing happened, I turned into a complete and pathetic mess.

  I spent the next few minutes collapsed on the floor and sobbing on his voicemail. I tried to speak a few times, but I couldn’t catch my breath enough to get more than a couple words out. It went on like this for a while until the voicemail cut me off.

  Drained, vulnerable, and humiliated, I slid the phone across the wood floor and curled up on the rug, weeping into my hands until I fell asleep.

  ***

  I awoke a few hours later, lifting my aching body off the floor in a panic.

  Oh. Oh, no. The memory of the voicemail came flooding back to me. The very thought of it made me nauseous. What had I done?

  Pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!

  I stumbled through the darkness to the bathroom sink and flipped on the light, splashing cool water on my face as if I could somehow wash off the memory.

  Nope. Still there.

  “I have to erase it.” As soon as I said the words out loud, I felt a surge of relief. I could erase it! I knew Logan’s voicemail password. It was the same pin number he used for everything. His birthday, backward.

  I squinted at the alarm clock to make out the time. A little after four. He wouldn’t be up for at least another hour. I could call his number, access the voicemail admin, and delete the message. It would be like it never existed. Simple. Easy. Painless.

  It was wrong, I knew, to break into his voicemail. Even if it was only to erase my own message. And yet, the feeling of desperation was so strong, I knew the choice was made. Of course I would do it. I couldn’t see any other option.

  I dialed Logan's number, and this time I hit the pound key when I heard his greeting. I was prompted to enter his pass code. It was too easy. In one try, I was in.

  “You have two new messages,” said an aut
omated voice.

  Oh, great. There was another message besides mine. I would have to delete that one, too, or else he would know someone had already listened to it.

  “First message,” said the voice, “Thursday, eleven fifty-nine p.m.”

  “Logan, it's me.” My stomach dropped. It was a woman. “You know I love you, but I hate sneaking around like this. I don't think I can do it anymore. You need to talk to Tess. Or I'm done.” There was a long pause, and I heard her sigh. “Call me back.”

  The message ended, and with a shaking finger I pressed the number two to delete it. I pressed it again as soon as I heard the sound of my own blubbering voice on the next message. I couldn't bear to listen to the whole thing.

  After the messages were deleted, I sat down on the edge of the bed in shocked silence. Wow. I guess I wasn’t the only one who needed to end things, was I?

  I believed Annie when she told me about what she saw, but a small part of me hoped there’d been a misunderstanding. That maybe he was out with a cousin or something. This didn’t seem like a misunderstanding at all.

  How long had this been going on? Was he planning on telling me about her on our last date? Was that why he acted so strangely that night?

  It sure explained why I hadn't heard from him. He was probably thrilled to have me out of his hair for a few days. But what was up with the text he sent me? I love you. Take all the time you need. What was his plan? To keep me on the line in case he decided to end it with this other girl?

  He was a jerk. It wasn’t even worth my time to give him another thought. And besides, I was over him. I was falling for someone else.

  Then why does it hurt so much?

  Because, I realized, before I thought Logan was a jerk, I thought he was the one. And even though I met someone new and exciting, that didn’t erase all of my history with Logan. He was familiar. I’d always pictured a future with him. A beautiful, happy future. My perfect life. There was a time when I could describe in vivid detail what that perfect life looked like. But now it seemed unrecognizable, like a hazy dream that had been forgotten.

  It was time to start over; time to make a fresh start from scratch.

  I thought about the last thing Jim Pierce said to me on the day I left Stevenson.