She stopped one step shy of the parking lot. She wasn’t consciously aiming for it, but there it was. With a numb hand, she pulled out her keys and turned over the car door lock. The basket made a small plop on the passenger seat, and she walked around to the driver’s side. Staring ahead, she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, starting the short drive back home, which suddenly felt a lot longer than it really was.
Chapter Nine
The dust made Chelsea cough. Every box she’d opened that morning was worse than the one before. She had no idea why everything was so dusty. Sure, the boxes she was opening held the contents of her back closet in her old apartment, but it shouldn’t have been that bad. It was warming up inside the house, but even still, she was tempted to tie a scarf around her mouth as a mask.
She checked her phone again. She wondered if he was going to call. That day when she’d brought over lunch and suddenly left, he’d texted her, and she’d given him an excuse that something had come up. Perhaps sensing that she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, he hadn’t probed further. He’d texted her once yesterday, but things had been fairly quiet since then. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
She dropped the corner of a box on her toe, and she swore under her breath. She was sick of unpacking things, and for that matter, she was sick of moving in general. She’d put off a handful of boxes until that point, which was lazy. She knew that. But it didn’t change the outcome. She needed to unpack these boxes and clear out the space. That was part of the whole point of having a house—having room and clear space.
She picked up a trophy, also coated with dust, and blew on it. The sunlight coming in through a window hit the angle just right, and she saw every dust particle burst into a golden cloud. Second-place in a high school badminton tournament—even she didn’t know why she kept it. It wasn’t exactly her crowning achievement and probably served better as an embarrassing paperweight than anything else. These days, high school students probably didn’t know what badminton was anymore.
One box later, she touched the button on her phone and glanced at the screen. Nothing. Just call him. For a moment, she held out her hand, about to reach for the phone, then she lowered it and reached for the next box instead. She was being silly. She could just call him and maybe work everything out. Then again, maybe not. Maybe there wasn’t anything to work out.
Why put effort into it if he’s just going to move away and we’ll never see each other again? Everything in her commanded her to keep trying, to keep pushing. But if she kept pushing and it didn’t work out, she’d be devastated, and the rational side of her brain knew it.
She put her hands on her hips after assembling a lamp she hadn’t seen in two months and gave a satisfying nod. She’d forgotten which box she packed it in and was glad she found it. It would look nice in the living room next to her couch. At the moment, she was limping along with a bedside lamp on the edge of the coffee table, and she was eager to replace it.
When she picked up the phone to check the screen again, it vibrated in her hands. She practically dropped it, and by reaching to save it, her finger slid across the phone, answering it. It was Nate. She wasn’t planning on ignoring his call if he reached out, but now the decision was made for her.
“Hello?”
“Hi Nate,” she said, gathering her bearings. “What’s up?”
“Not too much. I was called in to fix a broken ride earlier, but I’m taking the afternoon off before my shift begins tonight.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun.”
“Yeah, especially when you’re covered with grease. There wasn’t anything to cut through it on site, so I had to leave to clean up.”
“Gotcha.”
“Hey, where did you go the other day? I thought we were on for lunch.”
She breathed in. “I’m sorry, Nate. That was my fault. I was on my way, I promise, but then I…I got sidetracked.”
“Sidetracked while driving here?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly. Something kind of came up.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Is there something wrong?”
“No.” Yes.
“I can hear it in your voice. Like you’re upset or something.”
It all came out in a rush, a torrent of words and emotions that likely hit him unexpectedly. She told him about how she’d come to the carnival and talked to Harper, even including how she got a little lost on the way there.
“What exactly did he say to you?” he asked.
“Please don’t be mad at him, Nate. He didn’t do anything intentionally. He just mentioned how you all are going to be traveling to California next week, and how hard it must be to think about being away from each other. Then I just got to thinking about how hard it will be. I mean, all we’ll have are phone calls until who knows when.”
“I see,” he said softly. “So that’s why you’ve been so quiet lately.”
“What if being apart is too hard? What if you decide you want to stay in California, where it’s probably nicer? On the beach or something like that. Or what if you find someone new?”
He paused. “Do you like pie?”
She opened and closed her mouth before responding. “Do I like…what do you mean?”
“You know, pie. Desserts filled with fruit filling and stuff like that. Do you like them?”
She had the entire speech written in her head, and this question had completely derailed it. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Of course, she liked pies. She wasn’t sure she’d ever met someone who hated all pies. Was it a trick question?
“Sure I do. It depends on what type though. I don’t care for pumpkin pie. Don’t judge me.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Tell you what. I have a freshly baked apple pie here with me. One of the other carnies baked it and gave it to me. I like sweets, but this is a lot for one person. Do you mind if I come over—I’ll bring the pie—and we can talk about it?”
Also smooth. “All right. You can bring the pie over.” She rattled off her address while he jotted it down. “On one exception: that you don’t mind scooping it out with a fork. I’m still unpacking, and I have no idea where my pie server is.”
“You’re on. I’d come over even if it meant skipping forks and plates. We’ll just eat it with our hands like cavemen.”
“You wouldn’t dare. I just bought this place, and I’m not about to go rent a carpet cleaner.”
“Are you afraid of a little food fight?”
“You’ll just have to bring the pie over and keep your shenanigans to yourself.”
Through the phone, she heard a door open. “You win. I’m on my way.”
* * *
Before she knew it, there was a knock at the front door. She leaped up from the couch, despite trying to look casual when she opened it. It was a warm day out, reflected in what he wore: shorts and a T-shirt. He looked casual and breezy in that nonchalant way men pulled off so well.
“I finally found the place. And I brought the pie.” He lifted it up to illustrate. She realized that she was checking him out so much that she didn’t notice anything in his hands until that moment.
“Please come in. Don’t mind the mess. I’m still moving in.”
He stood in the living room and glanced around. “I like it. It’s nice. Are you settling in well?”
She jammed her hands into her back pockets and looked in the same directions he had. “It’s definitely still a work in progress, but it’s getting there. So far, I’ve been going the route of unpacking a little bit at a time. You know, doing it casually. But I’ve come to find out there’s no casual way to move.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean.”
“Of course. If anyone’s moved around, it’s you.”
He leaned in and gave her a side hug and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve done my fair share. Where would you like me to put this?”
She mentally kicked herself. Already, she was being a terrible hostess. “
Sorry. You can set it down on the table in there. I’ll grab the forks and plates.”
She ducked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. At first, she reached for the plastic plates, but instead decided on the nicer ones. Might as well. “So who baked you the pie and how awesome is that person?”
His voice drifted from the dining room. “A lot. She’s kind of like the carnival mom. She doesn’t have kids of her own, so she pretty much adopted all of us, even people her age. She cooks and bakes for everyone more than she needs to…or should. She said she enjoys it.”
The plates clattered as she set them on the table. “I mean, I do bake sometimes, but I wouldn’t say I have a passion for it. Maybe she just enjoys the reactions when she gives it away.” Why stay inside? It’s a beautiful day out. “Do you want to eat this outside? This place has a patio area. One of the reasons why I went with it.”
“Sure.” He picked up the pie tin and brought it with him. It was completely bare other than the tin, no wrapping or container or anything like that. That was a bold move.
Once they were outside, she realized just pie was a little bare. “Would you like something to drink or some whipped topping?”
He eased himself down into one of the lawn chairs. “This is a nice set up. I’ll have something to drink.”
“I made some lemonade yesterday. It’s homemade.” Saying that you made it implies homemade, silly.
“That sounds great. I’ll have a glass.”
When she exited the house with two glasses, she realized how good he looked in her backyard. Not that he was a piece of decoration or anything, but him being there looked…right. Like he belonged. In a way, that was quite an accomplishment considering it was his first time over. She was surprised she hadn’t invited him earlier, but maybe it was a subconscious thing about not wanting to get too close with him leaving. The thought snapped her back to the reason he visited.
But before she could get to it, he asked, “Are you glad you moved?”
She settled into a lawn chair just next to his. “It might be best to ask me that in a few weeks.” She winced when she realized that might not have been the best thing to say. “Right now it’s hard because not everything’s here yet. I still have quite a bit more from my rental unit that I need to bring over. I left it until last, and I didn’t get right to it after handing the keys over to my last place, and that was a big mistake.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because now I’m finding it hard to drum up the motivation to head back there. Even though it’s starting to cool off, it’s still a million degrees inside those units. It’s not one of the fancy climate-controlled ones, either. I wish it was.”
“At least you don’t need one now.”
She took a sip of her lemonade and set it down on the small side table between the two of them. “That’s the truth. Now I have an entire basement to start cluttering up.”
“Nice. Maybe you’ll show it to me on a tour of the house.”
She gave him a look. “Are you sure you want to go down there? Maybe I’m one of those black widow spiders who lures men in and stashes them in her basement.” She squinted her eyes in an attempt to look menacing and barely managed to keep her laughter in.
He laughed. “I think I’ll take my chances. You don’t have a sinister bone in your body. I know you better than that. You’re a nice person.”
“What did you want to come over to say?” It was as good of a time as any to start.
He breathed in and leaned back in the chair. “Well, I wanted to come over to talk to you. It sounded like you were upset over the phone.”
“I was. Am. I’m just feeling confused about everything. Things were heading in such a good direction with us, and then that day happened.”
“That’s one thing I wanted to ask you about. I mean, what changed? We both knew that sometime soon I’d be traveling out-of-town and that we’d have to talk long distance, at least for a little while. I guess I’m not sure why it turned out to be a surprise.”
She hid her expression behind another well-timed sip. He’s right. “I know. We both knew going in, but I just never really focused on that part. Maybe that’s my fault, just looking at the positive side of things.”
“I can’t say I blame you.” He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “There’s been a lot of positive things lately to focus on.”
“Don’t you meet a lot of women on the road? What’s so special about me, about this?”
He looked down at his hands. “It’s hard to put into words exactly. The time I’ve had with you has been special to me. I haven’t connected with anyone else like I have with you. It’s like I can tell you anything and I know you’ll never judge me.”
She went to sip her lemonade again, but as she attempted to withdraw her hands from his, he squeezed gently. She relaxed and remained there.
“Whenever we’re not together,” he continued, “I’m always thinking about when the next time will be. I don’t want to take you away from anything else, but I always enjoy spending time with you. That’s not exactly a normal thing when I’ve dated women before.”
She regretted asking him to compare her to previous women. Not because of how he’d answered, but because it wasn’t fair. Not to him, and not to her. It was about their individual experience—what the decision needed to be based on.
“Okay,” she said. “How will it work then?”
He pursed his lips and tilted his head. Not in a dismissive sort of way, but more of a loss for words. “I have no idea. But I’m pretty confident we can figure things out along the way. I don’t have all the answers for you, but I do have that.”
I wish I had his confidence. Maybe it wasn’t confidence in them as a couple she was questioning, but in herself. She squeezed his hand back. “I just don’t know what you see in me.”
“That’s easy. It would probably be quicker to tell you what I don’t find special about you.”
“You seem so sure.”
He released her hand and sipped his own lemonade, which sat untouched until that point. He probably didn’t want to insult her by ignoring it.
“I mentioned my breakup before.”
Whoa. This is taking a different turn. “You have.”
“Back when it happened, I never thought I’d find someone else. It wasn’t as dramatic as it probably sounds—I figured eventually I’d find someone, but I didn’t think it would be the same kind of connection I lost.”
“That’s sad,” she said.
“But then I met you, and that all changed. We’re still getting to know each other and all, but I’m not exactly an indecisive person. When I know something’s good, I don’t let it pass me by. Sometimes you just know.”
I know what you mean, Nate. That’s what’s making this so hard. “And what about when the deck is stacked against you…or that feeling.”
“This is great lemonade, by the way.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Is it real lemons or like a mix?”
“Real. I don’t think I could bring myself to call it homemade if I didn’t use lemons.” Inside, she was screaming for him to answer the question—the one question that had been circling her mind since the moment she’d packed the lunch basket back into her car and drove off without seeing him.
“It’s kind of like the lemonade, you know? You were tempted to use the mix, but instead you went with your gut and stuck with squeezing real lemons. The mix would’ve been easier, but you went with the harder way because it felt right, and it was the right thing to do.”
She tapped her finger to her chin as if deep in thought. “That…was a weird analogy.”
He smiled. “I know. It was pretty bad, but it was all I could think of. It made you think, though, so it worked.”
She relaxed her shoulders, not realizing she had tightened them like a wound spring. “Maybe a tiny bit. Until I couldn’t help but make fun of it.”
“You get the idea.”
“Some
. It was a decent analogy”
“Or is it a metaphor?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I always get the two confused.”
Suddenly, he stood up and walked toward the edge of her yard, where the wooden fence—one of those with classic wood flats—ran along the end of it. He pointed to a sad flower bush. “I see you have some blue flax. It’s a little late in the season for them to have flowers. You’re lucky these have them. I like the bright blue color, although some call it more of a purple. I stick with blue, since it’s in the name.”
He ran his fingers through the stems. “This is an Arizona poppy. They usually come after the summer rains, what little you probably get out here. These aren’t terribly popular because the flowers only remain open for a single day, so most green thumb-ers don’t plant them. I’m surprised the previous owner did. Some people plant them by accident, though, thinking they’re something else.”
She blinked. “You sure seem to know a lot about plants. I haven’t touched them since I moved in, especially since I have the opposite of a green thumb. Whenever I’ve tried to keep houseplants, they keep dying on me.”
“It happens to a lot of people. Some plants are just really fussy that way. That’s one reason why I enjoy traveling. I get to see all different kinds of plants from different areas. Once I got to visit the Royal Botanical Gardens in Sydney. That was a treat.”
Wow, who knew? They really were still discovering things about each other. “Did you see any nice plants there?” Her lack of vocabulary with this topic was painfully obvious.
“You could say that. Out of spending ten days in Sydney, I visited it on four separate days if that gives you an idea.”
“I had no idea you had such a passionate hobby.”
He moved over to a vine creeping up one of the fence posts. “It found me, I guess. I’ve always been interested in it, really.”
She attempted to walk around with him, but she didn’t really spot much of a difference between the plants. Sure, this one looked like a vine, and that one looked kind of bushy, but she wasn’t seeing nearly what he did. Which was fine—everyone was entitled to their own thing. It was cute to see him get all excited over it, though.
Carnival Ride: A Sweet Romance (Red Canyon Series Book 2) Page 7
