My American Angel (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 6)

by Brooke St. James

  I nodded again, and her expression morphed to one of regret before she reached out to hug me.

  "I'm so sorry," she said, patting my back. "Maybe you should go out. I heard John Michael and the guys talking about going out tonight. You should go with them."

  I smiled and nodded even though I didn't really feel like it. In fact, I regretted saying I was even thinking about it. "I probably won't," I said. "I just said that because I didn't want to go home and be alone on what should have been my wedding day. I'll probably just go to Katie and Will's."

  "I'm sorry, but I for one am glad you didn't marry that guy. You need to forget about him."

  "I did. I have been. I mean, it was eight months ago when we broke up, and I've been doing fine without him. It's just weird that today was supposed to be the day, you know?"

  "How long were y'all together?"

  "Six years," I said.

  "Ohhh, man," she said. "I didn't realize it was that long."

  I sighed regretfully. "What a waste of time."

  "Don't beat yourself up," she said. "We all waste time on one thing or another. I'm great at it."

  I stared straight ahead as Angela greeted and checked out a customer. It was one of the rare times when the customer was someone I'd never seen before, and I was glad for the opportunity to stare straight ahead and not make any conversation. While she was finishing the transaction, I had a whole chain of thoughts about what a waste of time it had been for me to be with Justin. The guy walked away, and the first thing out of my mouth was, "Most of my friends are married."

  "I'm not married," Angela said.

  "Yeah, but you've been married."

  She shrugged. "I know, but I'm not now."

  I sighed. "I met this boy in Canada when I was ten years old, and we promised each other that if we weren't married by the time we were thirty, we'd find each other and fall in love and everything would be just great. It was my backup plan, and I just remember thinking that was an eternity away and that there was no way I could ever marry him because I'd certainly be married by the time I was thirty. Back then, thirty-years-old seemed like a distant possibility, and now here it is. Now I'm thirty and unmarried just like I thought I'd never be."

  "Whatever happened to the guy?" Angela asked.

  I glanced at her to find that she was wearing a curious, wide-eyed expression. Her obvious interest made me let out a little giggle.

  "Nothing. I have no idea. I was ten. For a few years, I told my friends I had a "boyfriend in Canada", but then Christine Simmons told me that was a dumb, cliché thing for me to say because everyone who had a fake boyfriend or girlfriend said 'they were from Canada'. So, I quit talking about Theo after that. That's all he was… my fake Canadian boyfriend."

  "What were you doing in Canada?"

  "My whole family went up there. My dad's granddad was in bad health and he knew he was leaving some things to my dad, so we went up there to get that in order. He's the reason they were able to open the store. We spent a few weeks up in Montréal one summer when I was ten. That boy was my first everything. My first kiss. My first crush. My great-grandpa's place was right next to a public library, and I used to go there while my parents were busy. Theo lived nearby, and he would meet me just about every day. We carved our names into a desk."

  "So he wasn't your fake boyfriend," she said. "It sounds more like he was your real one."

  I shrugged. "I wished he was," I said. I could still remember what he looked like. I smiled at the thought.

  "Why don't you call him?" Angela asked. "You said you made a pact about getting married. You should call him up and see if he remembers."

  I let out a laugh. "I don't even know his last name. He didn't speak very good English. He mostly just listened to what I said. He knew a little bit of English, and he taught me a few words in French, but it was hard for us to communicate."

  "Did you kiss him?"

  A felt a wave of emotion at the memory of sneaking around in the library to steal kisses from that boy. I could almost smell the books as I imagined it. He was the cutest boy I had ever seen, and I loved the way he spoke French.

  "Did you kiss him?" Angela repeated since I was lost in thought.

  I nodded. "Lots of times, actually. Like ten times at least."

  "And you made a pact to get married when you turned thirty?" she asked.

  "I think we did," I said. "We had a communication barrier. I said the words in slow, clear English, and he looked like he understood. He agreed to everything I said. I had just seen the same type of pact and a movie, and I wanted to give it a try since I knew we lived far away and we wouldn't be going back to Canada."

  "Did you actually like him, or did you just make that pact to play out a scene in a movie?"

  "The movie was just what gave me the idea. I really liked him. I cried when we left. I was in love with him for almost three years after that summer—up until I got made fun of for saying I had a boyfriend in Canada."

  "Yeah, but you really did!" Angela insisted, taking up for adolescent me, which was really sweet.

  "Not really. I didn't even get his last name. That's what happens when you're ten."

  "Why can't you find him now? You should call that library. You said he lived close by. You never know. Someone could have been working there way back then. They might know who you're talking about."

  I laughed at how sincere she was. "Even if I did manage to track him down, it's not like I could call him and say, 'hey, remember that pact we made twenty years ago? Well, I'm ready to get married now'."

  "Isn't that what they did in the movie?" she asked.

  I thought about it for a second and then shrugged. "I don't even remember," I said.

  "Well, why make a pact if you're not going to follow up with it? That's all I'm saying."

  "No. Just no. I didn't bring this up so that you could talk me into doing that. I just thought it was funny, because back then, thirty seemed like a lifetime away, and now, here I am."

  "I think you should call that guy," she said. "You never know. Maybe he had a fiancé who turned out to be a real dirtbag, too. Maybe y'all's pact is meant to come true."

  "I'm not calling a man out of the blue and asking him if he remembers promising to marry me when we were kids. That's just desperate."

  "I still don't understand the point of a pact if you're too embarrassed to follow through with it."

  "He's probably m-married," I said. The statement was out of my mouth before I realized it, and I cringed a little at saying that word on a day like today.

  "What's the harm in calling the library?" she asked. "You ask one person if they knew a boy named Theo who used to live down the street. What's the worst that could happen? They say 'no'? They laugh at you?"

  "You are not making me call a library in Montréal, Canada, Angela."

  "Why not? What else are you going to do? Go home and get ready for a big night on the town with John Michael and the boys? You going to shoot some pool at Shooters?"

  "Uhhhhh," I groaned. "I can't believe I’m even thinking about this!"

  Angela and I looked at a map, but it was impossible for me to remember where we had been. I called my dad, and he told me the name of the street was a Saint name and that he thought the name of the saint started with an H. I inspected a map with that in mind, and came to the recollection that it was Saint Hubert. There was indeed a library on this street. "I think that's it," I said, pointing at the map. I remember the name Hubert because it reminded me of sherbet when I was little."

  "Okay, here it is," Angela said. She must have done something with my phone, because she was handing it to me like she expected me to put it to my ear and speak into it."

  "What did you do?" I asked with a stunned expression.

  "I called that library," she said.

  "You can't just call Canada on my phone. I thought we would email or something."

  "I think I just did call," she said regretfully as she dropped the phone into my hand.
"I'm sorry if it charges you for that. I just pushed the link on their website, and it started connecting."

  She was still talking when a man's voice came over the phone. He said a phrase in French that I wasn't able to understand. I didn't want to hang up on him, so I politely said, "I'm sorry, I only speak English."

  "I also speak English," he said. "How can I help you?"

  I hesitated for a second. "I'm going to ask a totally random question that you probably don't know the answer to," I said.

  "Aw, I really hate not having answers," he said with a smile in his voice.

  "This is a terribly random question, so I won't hold it against you if you don't."

  "Well, now you've got me genuinely curious."

  "How long have you been working there?" I asked.

  "Eight years," he said proudly. "My name is Charles. How can I help you today?"

  "Thank you, but I doubt you'd be able to answer my question if you've only been there for eight years."

  "Really? Why don't you give me a shot? Eight years is quite a bit of experience."

  "I'm sure you have plenty of experience, but I need someone who's been working there for about twenty years—someone who would know a boy who used to live in the neighborhood and come in there a lot. His first name was Theo. He was ten-years-old at the time, which would make him thirty now. My grandpa used to live right next door. He played chess there, and the boy played with him." I knew I was rambling nervously, so I intentionally stopped, making myself take a deep breath.

  "You're right, I wasn't here twenty years ago, but I believe I know the Theo you're referring to."

  "You do?" I asked, feeling amazed. I never in a million years thought the person on the other end would actually know who I was describing.

  "I'm pretty certain of it."

  "You know a man named Theo who would have lived close by there twenty years ago?"

  "Yes."

  "Would he be about thirty now?"

  "I believe so, yes," he said with a smile in his voice.

  "Do you know how to get in touch with him?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think I could."

  I spoke with Charles for several minutes after that—explaining in a little greater detail the story about meeting Theo when we were kids but leaving out the part about the pact since that would automatically make me seem desperate. I gave him my email address and asked him to please give it to the person he thought was Theo. He was a really nice man who seemed to take interest in my story. I couldn't tell if he knew this person named Theo or if he just knew of him. Either way, he seemed eager to help me out. He was so friendly that I almost explained to him where the desk was and asked him to seek it out, but I decided not to. He said he would try to reach Theo for me, and I thanked him for the trouble.

  Chapter 3

  Theo

  Zoe and her dog, Darlene, were still in Theo's New York apartment when Lane gave a few light taps to the door and let himself in. He gave a little whistle when he stepped inside, and Darlene ran her chubby little body over to the door.

  "How'd she do?" Lane asked, kneeling down to pet his dog.

  "She did fine," Theo said. He made another statement in French that was in a sweet tone and obviously directed toward Darlene. Lane had been hanging out with Theo long enough to know a little French, but he didn't bother trying to figure out exactly what was being said since he was almost certain Theo was referring to taking over ownership of his dog.

  "We need to look at a few applicants while I have you here," Lane said. "We've got four spots coming open back-to-back this fall." Lane came to sit on the couch with Theo and Zoe.

  "We've already decided on a couple of them, right?" Theo asked.

  "Yeah, the oil-painting girl and the guy who builds drums."

  "I forgot about him," Theo said.

  "We've got two spots coming open right after that, too, so we need to sit down and talk about it." Theo gestured to their current situation—at the fact that they were conveniently sitting down at that very moment.

  "I narrowed it down to ten." Lane said. "I have their folders in my office."

  "We can wait until tomorrow," Theo said. "It is Sunday, after all."

  "There's another email for you to look at whenever you get the chance," Lane said. He kicked his feet onto the ottoman and stretched out next to Zoe. He put his head on her leg, and Darlene went to stand by them, wagging her tail like crazy. She was still wiggling as she tried to sit down.

  "What email?" Theo asked.

  "It came to the S&S email, but it was for you."

  Theo gave Lane a curious expression, and Lane shrugged as if it was probably not a big deal.

  "It was a guy from the library in Montréal. He said his name was Charles. You'll have to read it. It's talking about a girl who says she knew you at the library when you were a little kid. Some American girl."

  "Caroline?" Theo asked. He sat up on the couch and regarded Lane with a serious expression. "Was her name Caroline?"

  Lane was completely stretched out on the couch as he threw his hands up casually. "I think it might have been. I don't know. I barely glanced at the rest of the email once I figured out it was for you."

  "Where is it?"

  "It's in the S&S email."

  "Can you forward it to me?" Theo said.

  His tone was so direct that Lane glanced at him. "Right now?" Lane asked.

  Theo easily conjured an image in his mind of sweet Caroline. He could see her blue eyes and dimples, and he remembered reaching out to touch her sandy blonde hair. She was like an American angel.

  "Yes, right now," Theo said. "How hard could it be? You probably have your phone in your pocket. Just take it out and let me see that email."

  "Oh my goodness, Theo!" Zoe said in a teasing tone.

  Lane rolled to the side and took his phone out of his back pocket. He pressed several buttons before handing Theo his phone.

  Theo read the following email:

  Dear Sir or Madam,

  I am trying to reach Theo Duval. My name is Charles Vance, and I am a librarian at the Saint Hubert Street Library in Montréal. We are enjoying our new building immensely, so thanks again for all you have done. I am writing because of a phone call I took today. It was from a young American woman who said she came to Montréal twenty years ago and met a boy named Theo at this branch of the library. She said the boy she knew might be interested in reconnecting with her. I know Mr. Duval grew up near our location, and the age seemed to match, so I thought I would try to reach out for the young lady. I apologize if this has been a waste of your time, but she seemed like a nice person, and I told her I would pass along the information. Please thank Mr. Duval again for everything he's done for our library. We are truly grateful.

  Sincerely,

  Charles

  "Pass along what information?" Theo asked, holding up the phone and staring at Lane like he was suddenly frustrated. "He said he told her he would pass along information, but he didn't pass along anything. He didn't even tell me her name or how to get in touch with her. Is it Caroline?"

  Lane reached out and took his phone, regarding at the email.

  "When did it come in?" Theo asked.

  "Yesterday."

  "Can you please email him back and ask him to put me in touch with the girl?"

  Lane began typing out a message on his phone, and Zoe looked at Theo with a curious smile. "Who's this Caroline, Theo?"

  He couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face at the sound of her name. "In the back of my mind, I thought she was from Carolina because of her name" Theo said. "But I honestly have no idea where she's from other than the fact that she's American. I knew her grandpa when I was a kid, but he died right after she went back to the states. She could live right here in New York. I've seen a couple of girls that I thought could've looked like her when she grew up, but honestly, I have no idea what she looks like now. I met her when we were ten." Theo reclined on the couch, running his hand th
rough his dark hair and breathing a sigh.

  "Did you fall in love or something?" Zoe asked. "Was she your first kiss?"

  "Her great-grandpa hung out at the library all the time. He's the one who taught me how to play chess. Not long before he died, his family came to visit. They were American, and I barely spoke English back then."

  He paused and grinned absentmindedly at the memory of the beautiful girl, smiling at him and saying a bunch of words he didn't understand. He must have smiled and nodded at the right times, though, because he got to steal kiss after kiss from that adorable blonde. He loved the memory of her. She came into and then out of his life as if riding on the wind.

  "What are you spacing out about?" Lane asked as he tossed his phone onto the ottoman.

  "I was thinking about that girl, Caroline. Did you email the guy?"

  "Yes," Lane said.

  "What did you tell him?" Theo asked.

  "That we'd like the girl's contact information."

  "It's gotta be her," Theo said. "Who else would it be? Let me see that email again."

  "This is it!" Zoe said triumphantly.

  Both guys looked at her.

  "Theo was just saying how hard it was for him to get into a relationship. This girl is perfect. She knew him back before he was who he is."

  "She probably knows who he is now, and that's why she's trying to get in touch," Lane said cynically.

  "If she knew who he was, she would be the one emailing S&S and not some guy at the library," Zoe said.

  "We don't even know if it's the same girl Theo is thinking about," Lane said.

  "I think it is, "Zoe said. "And I think you should get in touch with her and pretend like you're not rich, just like we talked about."

  "We did not talk about that," Theo said.

  "We kind of did," Zoe said, smirking at him.

  "We don't even know if it's the same girl," Lane reminded them.

  ***

  "I think it's the same girl," Lane said two hours later when he knocked on Theo's door. "I heard back from that guy, and he included the girl's contact information. Caroline Harrison. Is that her?"

  Theo let out a sigh. "It's gotta be her."