It bothered Spencer more than she cared to admit, Rebecca’s odd shift in demeanor. She’d enjoyed Monday. She’d enjoyed having some of Rebecca’s attention focused on her. Maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe this was better because…yeah, Spencer didn’t want to go there.
When she and Lucy were both dressed, Lucy pulled out her phone and gave it a quick glance. Turning to Spencer, she said, “Hey, I’ve got an hour or so before I have to be home to meet Ethan. Want to grab a cup of coffee or something?”
Spencer glimpsed the clock on the wall. It was a little after seven. Marti might be home. She probably wasn’t, but even if she was, that didn’t mean Spencer couldn’t go out with a friend for a bit. “Coffee sounds great.” She gave Lucy a big smile and packed up her stuff.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat at a little table for two in Grounded, a coffee shop not far from the gym, a latte in front of each of them. They took tandem sips.
“Mmm,” Lucy said. “I love Starbucks, but this place comes pretty darn close.”
“Agreed. Though I’m a fan of Starbucks’s chai latte, and I haven’t come across another place yet that does it quite as well.”
They sipped again before Lucy said, “You said earlier that you didn’t know what I did. I realized the same thing. What do you do?”
“Oh, I work for a real estate firm.”
“You’re a Realtor?”
“I’m not, though I only have to take the test to get my license.”
“What do you do there?” Lucy’s big eyes focused on her, and it occurred to Spencer that she’d forgotten how nice it was to have somebody’s full attention.
“I’m the admin. I set up appointments, take info on new houses, deal with clients. Sometimes I cover open houses for agents. I do my best to keep them organized.”
“Are they bad about that?”
“You’d be surprised.” Spencer chuckled. “How long have you taught kindergarten?”
“Three years.” Lucy’s face changed then, went from its usual pleasant expression to one that was bigger, if that made sense. Excited. Filled with joy. “I’ve only been teaching for six years now and I started with third grade. Then, three years ago, one of the kindergarten teachers retired and the administration asked me if I’d be interested in making a switch.” She gazed dreamily out the window next to their table. “Oh, my goodness, Spence, these kids.” She shook her head, the love for her job as obvious as if it had been written across her forehead. “It’s such an amazing age. They’re learning and curious and they have questions. And they’re so full of love.” Her words trailed off and she refocused her gaze on Spencer. “I never want to do anything else.”
“Wow,” Spencer commented, simultaneously thrilled for Lucy’s happiness and envious that she didn’t feel quite the same way about her own job. “That sounds amazing. Those kids are lucky to have you as their teacher.”
“I don’t know about that.” Lucy blushed a pretty pink. “I do know that I’m lucky to have a job I love.” She sipped her latte. “Do you love yours?”
Spencer also sipped, then took a moment to really think about the question. “I don’t necessarily love being an admin, but I do love the real estate field. I find it really interesting in that it’s always changing and updating. I love keeping up with trends, researching what’s hot and what used to be hot, but isn’t anymore.”
“Do you watch House Hunters? You probably don’t. I imagine it would drive you crazy.”
“I do watch and it does drive me crazy!” They both laughed.
“Why don’t any of those people understand that if you don’t like the color of the walls, there’s this fancy new invention called paint?” Lucy shook her head, her shoulders still shaking with her laughter.
“Right? Also, what the hell do these people do for a living that their budget is always half a million dollars or more?”
“And they’re all, like, thirty!” They went back and forth a couple more times before exhausting the subject. When their merriment died down again, Lucy said, “So, I’m pretty sure when you mentioned your fiancée on the first day of class, you said she. I assume you’re gay? Or bisexual?” At Spencer’s nod, she added, “Tell me about your fiancée.”
“Marti?” Spencer asked, taken a bit off guard by the request. “Oh, she’s…she’s a lawyer. She just made partner a few months ago.”
“And how long have you been together?”
“Not quite two years.”
Lucy nodded. “Big wedding?”
Spencer inhaled, let it out slowly, and studied her coffee. “We’re not really having a wedding. We’re just going to go to the courthouse, quick and easy.” When she looked up at Lucy’s confused expression, she elaborated, doing her best to keep her tone light. “Marti isn’t big on fancy celebrations and stuff. Thinks they’re a waste of money.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think…” Spencer glanced out the window, as if the words she was searching for would come wandering down the sidewalk. “I always thought a big, fancy, gorgeous wedding would be amazing. All the people I love there. My dad walking me down the aisle. My bride’s dad walking her.” Spencer looked back at Lucy, slightly embarrassed. “Sounds like a Hallmark movie, huh?”
“I think it sounds amazing.”
Spencer let out a dreamy little sigh. “Doesn’t it?”
“And Marti knows that’s the kind of wedding you’d like?”
Spencer shrugged, not quite ready to delve into the details of the answer, and stayed quiet. Lucy seemed to study her, and Spencer wanted to squirm in her chair. “What?”
Lucy shook her head. “Nothing.” She sipped her coffee, then seemed to collect herself. Her phone pinged, giving them both something else to focus on. “There’s my guy,” Lucy said, and the way her face changed—softened, a tender smile appearing—hit Spencer with a dose of envy that felt like she’d been slapped in the face. “Gotta go.” Lucy tipped her cup up and finished her latte, then stood.
Spencer stayed in her seat. “I’ve got a bit more, so I’m going to hang for a little while. But I had a nice time. Thanks for inviting me out.”
“Thanks for coming.” Lucy surprised her then by leaning down and hugging her tightly. “See you on Friday.”
Spencer watched her go, the spring in Lucy’s step obvious, her face nearly glowing. Try as she might, Spencer couldn’t remember the last time she’d dropped everything to go meet Marti. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time Marti had texted her from someplace and wanted Spencer to meet her.
Shifting her focus to the others in the coffee shop, she sat at her table and did some people watching. In the corner was a middle-aged man sitting alone and reading a book, the title of which she couldn’t make out. College professor, she thought. Across from him were two women somewhere in their late thirties drinking glasses of wine rather than coffee, both with big smiles, taking turns leaning toward each other. Old friends who don’t see each other as often as they’d like. The next table over from Spencer’s, which she hadn’t been able to see when Lucy was in her seat, was occupied by a young man and woman. Both in their twenties or early thirties. Both looking nervous. She toyed with her mug. He looked everywhere but at her. Internet date. First-timers.
It was a game Spencer enjoyed, one she played often when she had time to kill. It had started when she was a kid, whenever they went somewhere either as a family or just her, her mother, and Travis. Her brother had taken a lot of concentration, and young Spencer rarely had the full attention of her parents. She could be in mid-sentence and then one or both of them would simply turn away to say something to Travis or they’d simply leave while she was talking, having to chase her brother down or snatch something from his hands (or mouth) that he shouldn’t have. She’d grown up never getting 100 percent of the focus, so she began finding ways to amuse herself. Thus, the Who Are They and Why Are They Here game, which had carried into her adult life. She did it during open houses as people inspected the go
ods for sale. She did it in restaurants when Marti went on and on about a case she’d talked about half a dozen times before. And she still did it when she was out in public with her family. She was used to not being listened to; no big deal really. So, she used the game to prevent boredom. She used the game to amuse herself.
Tonight, she was using the game to avoid two things: going home and thinking about Rebecca.
It was only working on one of them.
* * *
Rebecca McCall was a self-assured woman. Being confident had never been an issue for her. Not in elementary school. Not in junior high or high school. Not even in college. She’d always known what she’d wanted and how best to get it, and it never occurred to her that she couldn’t do something.
No, confidence had never been an issue.
Until today.
She sat in a booth at Casey’s Lunch Box, a cute little diner on the west side of town, and fiddled with the white mug that all diners seemed to use for coffee, its ceramic thick and heavy. She spun it slowly in a circle on the red Formica table and tried her very best not to stare out the window looking for any woman who even remotely resembled Beth, her match on the dating site.
Beth had seemed quite receptive to Rebecca’s lunch date suggestion, and Rebecca wondered if she thought of the safety nets involved the same way Rebecca had. One, lunch was a good bet because it limited their time. Not like dinner or drinks after work. Two, it was the middle of the day, so there would likely be no alcohol involved, which was better for both of them. (Or was it? Rebecca was now thinking, second-guessing the decision because a shot of tequila might help calm her nerves at the moment.) And three—though this one was only for Rebecca—Casey’s was a good twenty-minute drive from the gym, so she was reasonably sure she wouldn’t accidentally run into one of her colleagues, who would then have a million questions about why she was sitting alone in a diner that took her half her lunch hour to get to, with no lunch in front of her.
They were supposed to meet at noon, she and Beth, but a glance at her watch told Rebecca it was now 12:15 and still no sign of her. Not in a hurry to humiliate herself, Rebecca decided she’d give it until 12:30 and then she was out of there. If Beth thought it odd that Rebecca hadn’t offered up her phone number for texting, she hid it well, and she didn’t offer hers either. Therefore, the only way they had to contact one another was through the dating site.
Something could have come up. Rebecca was willing to give Beth the benefit of the doubt. Maybe her car broke down. Maybe she had a meeting at work. Maybe she got sick. Any number of reasons that did not involve “decided she didn’t want to meet with me after all” were possibilities.
At 12:25, Rebecca pulled her wallet out of her small bag and took out four dollars to tip the waitress who’d refilled her coffee cup three times in the thirty-five minutes she had been here…the coffee that now threatened to burst her bladder if she didn’t hit a ladies’ room. Beth was obviously not coming, and Rebecca didn’t want to admit how disappointed she was. She was about to stand up when somebody flopped down into the booth across the table from her, startling her enough to cause a slight intake of breath. She looked up, expecting to see a very late Beth.
Instead, she was greeted by a very pretty Spencer Thompson.
“Hey. I thought that was you when I came in.” Spencer smiled at her as she set down her napkin-wrapped silverware and a cup with the straw sticking out, then set her placard with the number 16 on it next to the cup.
“What are you doing here?” The question was out of Rebecca’s mouth before she could take a second to think about how it might sound. Accusatory and a titch rude. That was how it sounded. She managed not to wince at her own tone.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Spencer replied, not missing a beat. “They don’t have food near the gym?” Her soft smile took any sting out of the words that might have seeped in. “My office is across the street. I eat lunch here a lot.”
Doesn’t that just fucking figure? Rebecca tried not to notice how appealing Spencer was in her work clothes. She was so used to seeing her client in workout pants and sweaty T-shirts, her hair in a ponytail, that this alternate version of Spencer was unexpected. Only able to see her from the waist up, Rebecca took in the black-and-white pinstriped top with silver buttons and how it was open at Spencer’s throat, revealing a chunky silver necklace that accented a visible collarbone. Her blond hair was down, the waves even more prominent out of the ponytail, and it was longer than Rebecca had originally thought, cascading past her shoulders to skim the tops of Spencer’s unexpectedly ample br— For God’s sake! Stop that!
Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut and willed her brain to be quiet.
“Are you waiting for somebody?” Spencer asked, her tone innocently inquisitive and not at all like she knew what Rebecca had been thinking.
“I was. She didn’t show.” Rebecca hadn’t meant to say that either. God, what was wrong with her?
“A date?” Spencer asked just above a whisper, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“No,” Rebecca snapped. Her shoulders dropped in defeat and she sighed. “Yes.”
Spencer nodded as if she understood completely. She sat back as the waitress arrived with a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and chips on a white plate that matched Rebecca’s coffee mug. When the waitress took the numbered placard and left, Spencer asked, “A set-up? Or online?”
“Online.”
“Do you think she peeked in, saw you, and left?”
Rebecca stared at her, blinking, then her brow furrowed, but before she could snap off a retort, Spencer held up her hand, a big grin on her face.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Please, like anybody would see you and walk away. No. Not happening.” She gave a small snort, then took a bite of her sandwich. She chewed as she looked out the window, suddenly seeming at a loss for words.
Rebecca sipped the last of her coffee—even though she was certain her bladder had zero room left—and stared back at her. The silence lasted for several beats before Spencer apparently located words again, cocked her head, and surprised Rebecca by asking, “What’s your deal with me?”
Brow furrowed, Rebecca asked, “What do you mean?” even though she was pretty sure she knew exactly what Spencer meant. She did her best to maintain eye contact instead of looking away guiltily, which was really what she wanted to do. Spencer’s eyes were a deep blue, subtly but darkly lined, and accented by thick, mascaraed lashes that only made the blue more intense.
Spencer looked at her for several seconds, as if trying to decide on the best approach. “I mean, what’s the deal? I start the bride class and you obviously can’t stand me. Which was weird because you’d only just met me. That goes on for an entire week, making me miserable, so I quit. You apologize to me, which seemed pretty sincere.”
“It was.”
“So I come back and you’re awesome. Friendly. Helpful. Made the class fun.”
Rebecca couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on her face at the words.
“Then yesterday, you stepped back again. Not all the way, thank God, but back enough for me to notice the difference. So, what’s the deal?”
There were a few different options in front of Rebecca at that moment. She could tell the truth, ask why Spencer was okay with somebody who supposedly loved her pretty much telling her she needed to be in better shape for her wedding, tell her she was having trouble getting beyond that because she watched her mother do the same thing throughout her married life and it was brutal, and she didn’t want Spencer to be sentenced to the same existence. She could lie, make up a story to satisfy the woman who sat across from her, looking so inquisitively attractive. Or she could feign confusion, pretend she had no idea what Spencer was talking about. A bevy of choices laid out for her choosing.
She chose the last one.
“I’m not sure I understand.” Rebecca furrowed her brow, shook her head, did her best to look puzzled. “I don’t thin
k I treated you any differently from Monday to yesterday.” She shrugged, sipped her coffee, did her best not to fidget in her seat while Spencer studied her intently. A long beat passed. Two. Three. Rebecca swallowed.
“Okay.”
Okay? Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up before she could stop them, she was so surprised by Spencer’s reply. Spencer picked up her cup, sipped from the straw, popped a chip into her mouth, and looked at Rebecca.
“Good,” Rebecca said with one firm nod. She doesn’t believe me. Rebecca was sure of it. It was right there on Spencer’s face. Searching for a way to not immediately cut the conversation short, but not to drag it out any longer either, she said, “I think you’re doing great, and in another week or two, you’re really going to see results.”
“Thanks.” Spencer continued to eat her lunch but didn’t say any more.
Rebecca took that as a good time to leave. “Well, it was nice running into you, but I should get back to work.”
“Sure.” Spencer took a bite of her sandwich and watched Rebecca gather her things. Rebecca could feel her eyes. As she stood, Spencer said, “Sorry about your date. Her loss.”
Which made Rebecca feel even worse as she practically fled the diner for the safety—and solitude—of her car. Once inside the car, she let out a huge breath of relief and weirdly felt like she’d just run a couple of miles. Heart pounding, breath ragged, blood rushing. This was all so unlike her.
“What the hell is happening to you?” she whispered to her reflection in the rearview mirror. It had no answer for her.
Jamming her key into the ignition, she sped back to the gym. A place where she was comfortable and actually felt like she knew what she was doing. Because God knew she wasn’t feeling that way anyplace else today.
She spent the rest of the day distracted, doing her best to focus on her clients and mostly failing. The strangest part was that she wasn’t distracted by Beth’s no-show, as she’d expected to be. No, she was distracted by blue eyes she couldn’t stop seeing in her mind and the question she’d answered with a lie.
The Shape of You Page 8
