Almost Like Being in Love

by Beth K. Vogt

  After surviving that conversation, he could certainly do this.

  When the door opened, it took all Alex’s effort not to drop the boxes of pizza.

  “Hey, Bobbie—” The smile froze on Jessica’s lips. “You’re not Bobbie.”

  “No, no, it’s me. And you . . . must be going on a date.”

  Jessica’s hair was woven into some sort of intricate braid that fell over one shoulder. She wore a shimmery blue V-neck dress that accentuated her figure in a way he’d never imagined and would find hard to forget. A pair of silver strappy heels dangled from one of her hands.

  “Alex, what are you doing here?”

  “I, um, brought pizza.” Alex lowered his arm to prove his statement. “I’m sorry. I should have called first.”

  “You brought pizza?” Jessica stood there, staring at him, looking both adorable and irresistible in her confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  He was still new at this whole being-open-with-other-people thing, but he knew it was important to the woman standing in front of him. “I wanted to see you again . . . to talk to you. And so I thought it would be fun to surprise you—and Scotty—with pizza. But I didn’t think about the fact that you might be busy. Or have a date. With Bobby.”

  “A date—” Jessica shook her head. “Bobbie’s not my date—she’s my babysitter. I’m going out with some girlfriends to celebrate my birthday.”

  “Oh.” Alex took a step forward. Stopped. “Wait—it’s your birthday? Well, happy birthday. Let me just get out of your way.”

  Jessica grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house. “Will you get in here, please?”

  “Who’s at the door, Mommy?” Scotty came skidding around the corner. “Is it Miss Bobbie?”

  “No, it’s Mr. Alex.”

  “Mr. Alex is babysitting me tonight?”

  “No, Miss Bobbie is babysitting you—”

  As Alex knelt down, he held the pizzas aloft, bracing for the little boy’s hug. Jessica rescued the pizzas, taking them from his hands.

  “Where ya been, Mr. Alex? I’ve been asking Mom when you were coming over again.”

  “And I told you that Mr. Alex didn’t need to come over because nothing was broken.”

  “That’s not true. The faucet is broken.”

  “Not anymore. I fixed it.”

  “But you coulda called Mr. Alex—”

  “Tell you what—why don’t you talk to Mr. Alex for a few minutes while I finish getting ready for tonight, okay? And when Bobbie gets here, let her in.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jessica reappeared in the living room, where Alex sat on the couch, the babysitter and Scotty now outside in the backyard.

  “Bobbie’s here and the pizza’s in the kitchen and—” Alex did a double take. “You’re wearing . . . a different dress?”

  Jessica’s hands skimmed the skirt of her casual floral dress. “Yes, I am.”

  “But why aren’t you wearing the other dress?”

  “Because I called my girlfriends and told them I needed to take a rain check on our dinner date tonight.”

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  “Then I’ll explain it to you. I was going to go out with my girlfriends, but then you showed up with pizza and I changed my plans. It’s my birthday, so I figured I could choose what I wanted to do, right?” Jessica slipped her feet into a pair of purple flip-flops sitting by the front door. “Now Bobbie’s here, so I thought we could go for a walk and catch up with each other and then come back and reheat the pizza. If that’s okay with you—”

  Alex joined her by the door. “Sounds great.”

  Within minutes they were walking side by side through Jessica’s neighborhood. A group of kids had set up a makeshift ramp in one driveway and were practicing their skateboarding skills. An older teenage boy maneuvered a red lawn mower around the front lawn, bobbing his head to whatever music played in his headphones. The smell of fresh-mown grass filled the air.

  He and Jessica walked the block, turned the corner, and continued down the next street—and still the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come.

  “Your air conditioner working okay?”

  “I would have called your shop if it wasn’t.” Jessica offered him a quick smile. “And the washing machine is running fine, too.”

  “Great.” Alex searched for another easy topic. “How’s work been?”

  “Busy as ever. Scotty will be starting kindergarten soon, so I’ll have more free time. And he’s finishing up swim lessons.”

  “Swimming probably tires him out.”

  “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But the only one who ever wants a nap is me.” Jessica took the lead in the conversation, asking an unexpected question. “So . . . did you ever figure out that big proposal for your girlfriend?”

  “No. No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. I’ve been kind of busy—”

  “Honestly, Alex! You can’t keep putting it off. She’s going to think you don’t want to marry her.”

  “I don’t.”

  Jessica came to a complete standstill in the middle of the sidewalk. “What?”

  “I don’t want to marry her. And she doesn’t want to marry me, either.”

  “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “To be honest, neither were Caron and I.” Alex faced her, unwilling to keep walking as the conversation took a more serious turn. “But you’re the one who challenged me to take care of myself, Jessica. Help myself if I couldn’t help my mother. You were right about that . . . and about how my mother’s drinking was affecting my relationship with Caron.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex.”

  “I wasn’t ready to get married. I had to deal with my brother’s death. My mother’s drinking. My dad’s unwillingness to talk about any of it—”

  Jessica moved closer to him, resting her hand on his arm. “What did you do?”

  “I grew up—or at least, I’ve started the process of growing up. I moved out of my parents’ house into my own apartment. I’m seeing a counselor once a week—talking about stuff. Can’t say that it’s easy—‘clearing away the emotional debris that’s been clogging my thinking’ is the way he describes it. I’m realizing my father didn’t mean to abandon me back then, although that’s what it felt like. He just didn’t know what else to do. I’m still trying to get the right perspective on all of it—to understand it as an adult, not a ten-year-old.”

  “And growing up also meant you had to break up with Caron?”

  “Caron and I are friends. We’ve always been friends. Always will be friends. Our parents always joked that we were perfect for each other, but that’s not a good enough reason to get married.”

  “Because you’re perfect for each other? You happen to be disagreeing with a lot of people, you know.”

  “Not that part—getting married because our parents thought we should. You don’t get married to make someone else happy. And you don’t marry someone just because they’ll help you keep a family secret.”

  “You’ve talked all of this out with your counselor?”

  “Yes.” Alex resisted the urge to take Jessica’s hand in his. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s been a lot to process. Sometimes I feel like somebody volunteered me to be a test dummy for a crash course on maturity.”

  Jessica laughed, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry . . . but you’ve got admit the way you described it was funny.”

  He laughed along with her. “I’m learning a sense of humor helps, too.”

  “So what else are you learning?”

  “My counselor has helped me realize when I have my own family . . . well, I don’t want secrets. Surprises, yes. But no secrets.”

  Alex caught his breath as they resumed their walk, allowing silence to reign between them. His heart pounded in his chest as if he’d been running a marathon, not merely strolling through Jessica’s neighborhood.

  “You’ve been doing a lot of hard work in just a month.” Jessica’
s words provided him with a second wind—the ability to keep going.

  “I’m trying to figure out where I am with God, too. I hadn’t even realized I was angry with him until my outburst with you.”

  “God’s big enough to handle our anger, Alex.”

  “Trying to figure out what a relationship looks like when you haven’t really talked to someone in a long time—when that someone is God—it’s tough.” Alex motioned for them to sit on a wooden bench on the outskirts of a small park. “I’m also learning all this talking about feelings . . . it’s exhausting.”

  Jessica patted him on the back. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me everything today.”

  “There was one more thing I’ve been thinking about . . . something that you said.”

  “Oh?”

  He’d kept this part for last—and now he wasn’t sure that had been the wisest decision. They’d walked and talked. He’d worn himself out just explaining some of the basic things he’d realized about himself. About God. But now he was at the trickiest part of the conversation—the riskiest—and he didn’t have any emotional reserves left if things went badly.

  “Alex? You okay?”

  No. He wasn’t okay. But the whole reason he was here today, talking with Jessica, was to tell her this next part.

  Alex twisted on the wooden bench seat so he faced Jessica. “You said that when a guy proposed to you, all you wanted was for him to show up at your door with a pizza—”

  Jessica’s eyes widened behind the wire frames of her glasses. “Alex!”

  “Jessica, I promise you, all that’s in those boxes are pizzas. Nothing more.” He covered one of her hands with his. “But I know how you value honesty, so I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m thinking here.”

  “Go ahead.” The two words were a mere whisper.

  “I like you, Jessica. You challenged me and forced me to look at my life and how I was living it. And you encouraged me to change it. You’ve always intrigued me. Being with you . . . was a glimpse of something I’ve always wanted. I want to get to know you better.”

  “Become friends, you mean?”

  “Aren’t we already friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we start here. See what God has for us. I hope and pray it’s more. A whole lot more. Maybe even pizza and a ring down the road.” He inhaled a deep breath that shifted his shoulders. “What do you think?”

  Jessica slipped her hand into his. “You need to understand a couple of things about me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’m a two-for-one deal. It’s me and Scotty.”

  “Even better. Anything else?”

  A smile curved Jessica’s lips, causing Alex to wish he had the freedom to kiss her. “And my favorite pizza is meatlovers—the more meat and cheese the better.”

  Alex’s laugh started low and then spread out between them. “See? I knew we were going to get along just fine, Jessica Thompson. And now that we’ve got that settled, how about we go home and spend the rest of the evening together—you, me, and Scotty?”

  “Sounds like the perfect way to celebrate my birthday.”

  FORTY-TWO

  If she kept up these daily trips to Henderson Beach, Caron might as well rent a campsite and pitch a tent. At least then she wouldn’t have to leave every evening to return to her quiet, dark house.

  Tonight’s sunset was particularly stunning, with the sky deepening from blue to purple, the clouds’ edges rimmed with a deep pink hue. The sun was a blur of gold that seemed to spill from the sky over the dark edge of the ocean.

  Caron had spent hours the last several weeks walking the shore. Praying, listening for an answer to her questions about her future. Did she continue working as a Realtor, ignoring her feelings? Did she pursue home staging? At times she even practiced a halting, stumbling, all-out-there proposal for Kade Webster.

  I love you.

  I was wrong, wrong, wrong to walk away from you.

  Forgive me.

  Marry me. Please.

  And she returned home every night no more certain that she should call Kade, much less ask him to marry her.

  Kade was worth the risk, yes.

  But after talking to Vanessa, she’d promised herself that she’d ask God what she should do. And for all her asking, the only impression she’d gotten was to wait.

  Wait.

  But for what? And for how long?

  She refused to abandon hope that God was doing something even when she saw no evidence of it yet. She had to believe he would give her another chance with Kade, or else take away her longing for him. What had Vanessa said when they talked last week?

  “God’s love for you is perfect, Caron—and unconditional. It may take you a while to realize you don’t have to do something—be someone—for God to love you.”

  Fine. For one more day, she would refuse to give in to the fear that she was disappointing God. Yes, she’d chosen wrong not once, but twice. But she had to believe that God loved her in the midst of all this waiting . . . doubting . . . struggling to trust him. And that he would give her the opportunity to finally make the right choice.

  And if she never had an opportunity with Kade again, well . . . then God still loved her and he would help her accept that. Somehow.

  A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, offering just the hint of relief against the mid-August heat. The sand, drenched with the motion of the waves, was still warm beneath her feet. Seagulls wheeled overhead and then moved on, their plaintive, high-pitched cries an echo of her own prayers.

  She found her breathing matching the rhythm of the waves, the sun falling behind her as she headed back toward the parking area.

  And then she stopped . . . her breath hitching . . . resisting the urge to rub her eyes, blink, and rub her eyes again. The man walking toward her was no longing-of-her-heart mirage. Kade Webster’s determined stride caused the water to splash up behind him, the setting sun seeming to cast his form in a yellow haze.

  Why was he here? What should she do? Stand here, staring, and wait? No. No more waiting. Kade had come this far—all the way from Colorado. The sand shifted beneath her feet as she closed the space between them, halting with mere inches separating them.

  Kade’s expression was hidden behind a pair of silver-rimmed sunglasses—but then again, her own expression was veiled behind sunglasses, too.

  She removed them, slipping them into the side pocket of her cotton dress, even as she shaded her eyes from the remaining sunlight. Honesty and transparency were uncomfortable in more ways than one.

  Someone had to speak first. It was only right she break the silence.

  But Kade spoke before her, the sound of his voice as potent as a caress. “I was looking for you.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I went to your house straight from the airport. You weren’t home—obviously. So then I drove by your parents’. Your mother told me that you’ve been spending time here.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d been brave enough to go visit her parents alone.

  “I come here every day to think.”

  “What have you been thinking about?”

  Here was her chance. To show Kade how much she loved him by being bold . . . confessing everything, sharing everything she’d learned. But how did she start? It was as if all her words had been swept out into the Gulf.

  She fingered the collar of her dress. “You.”

  Kade reached for her hand, twining their fingers together, his touch causing her to realize how much she’d missed him all the more. “Funny thing, Miss Hollister. I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

  “You have?”

  “Constantly. Mitch says I’m useless at work. And Lacey told me to get myself to Florida and fix things between us—or else.”

  “Kade—what happened between us—what went wrong both the first time and the second time, it wasn’t your fault.” Caron dropped her sandals to the sand, taking his other hand in hers.r />
  “Caron—”

  “No. You have to let me tell you that I’m sorry—terribly sorry—for choosing my dad over you two years ago.”

  “Caron, I didn’t come here to hash that all out again—”

  “Please, Kade.” She touched his arm, his skin warm beneath her fingertips. “I need to say this. All of this.”

  He pulled her closer. “It’s not necessary.”

  “For me it is.” She resisted the urge to rest in his arms. She had to say what was in her heart. “I’ve realized a lot of things about myself these past couple of months. How I wasted a lot of years wanting my dad’s approval more than anything else. Wanting my dad to love me, to be proud of me. But I used my father’s approval like some sort of measuring stick. Was I good enough or not? And it twisted my life out of shape. I lost you, the man I loved, because I wanted my father’s approval.”

  “That’s all I need to hear.”

  As Kade tried to pull her into his arms, Caron braced her hand against his chest. “What? I haven’t said I’m sorry yet.”

  “Yes, you did. And you said you love me. You want to know why I came looking for you? Because I’ve never stopped loving you, Caron Hollister. I let you walk away the first time . . . and then I almost let you walk away from me again. But I’m here because I couldn’t make that mistake again.”

  Her hands gripped his shoulders as he kissed her, their lips flavored with salt. He caressed the sides of her neck with his thumbs, and then curved one hand against the back of her head, threading his fingers through her wind-tossed hair. There was no need to rush this moment, and she didn’t want him to.

  After a moment, Caron pulled back from his embrace. “I’m sorry, Kade—”

  He pressed his fingertips against her lips. “No more apologies. I forgive you. Kiss me again and then—” He lowered his voice as he pressed a soft kiss just below her ear.

  “This didn’t go the way I planned.”