by Nina Bocci
I nodded. “Do I ever.”
“Put a pin in that, I’d like to come back to it.”
I smiled. “Deal. Now, please continue. We’re almost there, and we still haven’t talked about the shop.”
I found this common when Henry and I were alone and chatting. Every topic was discussed except the one that we were supposed to. Time went by absurdly fast when we were together, and I wished that it slowed down just a little, giving me more time to enjoy being around him.
“Oh, and what about his wife?”
Henry frowned. “She passed away a few days before the house was finished.”
I felt a pang of sadness that was completely unexpected considering I had no tie to the story or the people involved. “That’s so sad.”
Henry continued with the Lovegood tale, just as he turned onto the long road to Gigi’s. “It wasn’t until after he himself died that Cooper’s however-many-times-great-grandfather, at a very old age, went back and edited what he could, giving Lovegood the credit he deserved. That included having Lovegood’s Forest dedicated to him—the full stretch of land and miles of forest surrounding the area. It was only safe from development because Lovegood saw to it.”
“But I looked it up after the, you know, nonarrest,” I whispered. “Love Lane isn’t on any map.”
“It’s not technically recognized by anyone in the state. It’s not like it’s a state park or anything. Over the years it just became Love Lane, but most of us know the story.”
I cleared my throat. “You know, Emma should put one of those story signs up there to make sure everyone knows it. That’s really an awesome bit of history for visitors.”
“Like you,” he said, shutting off the engine. “A hopelessly romantic visitor.”
“Oh, hush,” I said, with another playful slap to his arm. Again, the longer my hand lingered, the more his muscle flexed beneath it. I could get used to that.
An idea had taken hold when we were still on the lane. All the talk of romance was getting to me. The sound of gravel under the tires meant the night was almost over, and even though I was beat, I didn’t want it to end.
“This whole time I was regaling you with stories, and we didn’t even discuss your—what did you call it?”
“Postmortem,” I reminded him. “It’s okay. Another day, perhaps.”
We sat quietly for a beat, staring out the Jeep windshield at the sky.
After a few moments, Henry cleared his throat. “So.”
“So,” I replied, looking at him in my periphery.
With every glance at him, I noticed he was staring at me. I didn’t know if he was aware he was even doing it.
“Henry?” I said, causing him to shake his head as if he was zoned out.
There was always a zing between us, at least on my end. Something that felt like we were tied together by an invisible string that was an old connection that I was realizing may have always linked us.
Henry shifted in his seat. Perhaps still coming out of whatever deep thought he was focused on when he was staring at me. The tips of his ears were red, like always. I popped open the car door before he could come around and do it for me. “Stay put a second,” I insisted, having an idea that would either be brilliant or a categorical failure.
I was sincerely hoping for brilliance.
Sliding down from the Jeep, I crunched my way around the front of the car, loving feeling the warm headlights on my bare legs. He watched me through the windshield, and I wished I could have fully seen his expression.
When I joined him on the driver’s side, I gripped the bar, stepped onto the rail, and pulled myself up. His window had been down for the drive.
How did I not notice how good he smells before?
My arm was on the doorframe holding myself up. “Tell me you’re changing your mind,” he breathed, touching my skin lightly. “About staying here?”
I swallowed. I wanted to say yes and reach over and kiss him. Or have him pull me inside and smother my lips with his, but to what end? It would be a lie just to sate this building urge between us.
Looking down, I shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Literally, I have no idea. I have all these balls in the air and no juggling skills. But I want to spend more time with you, Henry.” Slowly his hand fell away, and when I looked back up, he was staring out the windshield, up at Gigi’s house.
“I respect that you have your reasons for not wanting to stay here. I wish you’d do the same for me. You may leave again, and while I would love to see what could happen, I can’t let myself. I’m built for commitment, stability—not a fling. No matter how much I would love to spend time with you in a nonfriendly friendly way …”
I smiled, trying to not let the words hurt as much as they did. But as he said, he wasn’t interested in temporary, and I couldn’t offer him more than that at the moment.
“Good night, Charlotte,” he said, his voice strained.
Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and I knew then he was on the edge: the precipice of giving in. If I pushed him just enough, he would break.
But if I broke Henry, could I live with myself?
16
After that night with Henry, I realized I needed to let go of any hope that Henry and I could be more than friends. And Dr. Max was the perfect distraction. Not only did he not expect me to make any promises, but he was eager to spend time with me.
I needed easy. I had enough to deal with.
What do I wear for a first date that says I’m sort of vibing with you because I find you handsome and interesting, but I’m also 90 percent sure I’ll be sleep-eating chicken wings because I worked fourteen hours today?
As I stood in the center of my closet staring up at my clothes, I grabbed a pair of worn jeans and a thin navy blouse. Nope, that’s wrinkled, and I’m not ironing. I held up a powder-blue top, thinking it might be clean, but— Nope, also wrinkled. I tossed the jeans on the floor and grabbed white shorts and a denim shirt. There, no ironing required.
Thanks to a last-minute customer, I decided to just meet Max at Casey’s by hitching a ride with Mrs. Mancini, who was heading into town to pick up a book.
Twenty minutes later, I was praying to God in the passenger seat of Mancini’s Lincoln Navigator, an SUV that she needed extra-high running boards and a lower grab bar to pull herself into. She drove like a demon.
“Thanks again for the ride,” I said, clutching the doorframe nervously. She careened around a corner at a speed reserved for the highway.
How did I get pulled over by Duncan when someone like Mancini was free to drive all over town unchecked?
“Oh, dear. My pleasure,” she said sweetly, making another turn without any signals or brakes. “I told your father that I was always keen to give you a ride to and from work, but he seemed to want to take you himself or find you other rides.”
Probably to keep me alive, I thought, closing my eyes as she narrowly missed driving up onto the curb.
When we arrived at Casey’s, I let out a breath and a silent prayer to whatever higher power didn’t have us flying off an embankment à la Thelma and Louise. “Thanks, Mrs. Mancini. I’ll bring you and Gigi home some pizza when I leave.”
“No rush, honey. You and your suitor have fun tonight,” she called out, waving affectionately to me with her pillowy hand.
Inside, it was a frantic but fun atmosphere. Friday at Casey’s must have been the go-to place for dinner before heading to the brewing company for a couple more drinks.
Max stood, waving from a table smack-dab in the center of the restaurant. From there, we could see the entire place.
And the entire place could see us.
Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered me—considering I had been stared at, whispered about, and pointed to since I arrived—but this particular audience wasn’t one I wanted spying me having dinner with the handsome and interested Dr. Max.
Off at the end of the bar, situated among a crowd of chatty people, were Cooper, Em
ma, and Nick. Suspiciously absent was Henry.
“Casey’s is busy tonight,” Max said congenially, pulling my thoughts away from why Emma hadn’t invited me to join them.
Because she knew you’re seeing Max tonight.
“Yeah, the food is so good, so it makes sense,” I replied, smiling as he held the chair out for me. I was trying not to allow my eyes to dance over toward where I knew they were sitting. A glass remained at an empty stool. It was half-full, so someone else must have been with them.
Tilting my chair a bit pitched me closer to Max, but also didn’t allow me to have an unobstructed view of that corner of the bar anymore. The urge to keep looking to see if Henry joined them was strong.
Max and I chatted amiably about everything and nothing at all. It was nice, but also a bit like dry toast when you’re not feeling well. You know it’s good for you, but it’s also so damn bland.
Was Max good for me? On paper, absolutely. There was no reason that I shouldn’t be diving into the deep end with him. And yet …
“Maybe one of these weekends we can try out JOE? I still haven’t been since I’ve been so busy at the practice,” Max said, shaking me out of my thoughts. For the life of me, I didn’t know what he’d been talking about for the past five minutes because I kept staring up at my friends at the bar.
The three of them had the bar patrons in stitches, everyone laughing at something that Nick was prattling on about. His hands moved around his head, and he looked like he was dancing. When he spun around, he caught me staring around the couple beside us and clapped Cooper on the back.
“Oh, damn,” I mumbled into my beer, hoping that Nick drawing attention to us wouldn’t mean that they would all come— Never mind, that’s exactly what it meant.
They filed through the cockeyed tables, saying hi to nearly every patron. Cooper said good evening even to the people he didn’t know, in all his mayoral splendor.
“Fancy meeting you guys here,” Emma said pointedly. “Max, I thought you were going to Notte’s?”
While she was focusing on Max, Nick stared at me with accusation in his eyes. I couldn’t look at him, no matter how much I wanted to show him that I was free to see whomever I wanted. His best friend wasn’t interested, and Max was. Mentally, I was sticking my tongue out at him and daring him to text Henry to tell him that we were there together.
“We were, but then Charlotte suggested here. Thanks for the recommendation, though. We’ll definitely try it another night,” Max said cheerily to Emma.
“No problem. Always happy to help the locals out,” she said, smiling at me.
“It’s just you guys here?” I blurted out, looking toward the bar, where I counted the four glasses again.
Emma followed my line of sight. “Oh yeah. Henry was here, too, but he— You know, I don’t know where he went off to.”
Cooper and Nick shrugged, although Nick looked like he had more to say on the subject.
“He’ll probably be right back. Maybe it was something at the bookshop,” Emma said casually, but her fingers tightened around her cell phone.
Max shook Cooper’s outstretched hand, promising that they’d get together to discuss a bike-safety initiative. Nick reminded him about golf.
“We’ll let you get back to your date.” With a quick wink, Emma finally turned and glided back to the bar behind the guys.
“Great friends you’ve got there,” Max said, apparently unaware of the magnificent level of awkwardness that was just displayed.
“The best,” I said, holding the beer in my sweaty hand.
I willed myself to enjoy the night, and not read into what Henry’s disappearing act meant.
* * *
MY DATE WITH Max had gotten cut short because he was on call and an emergency popped up. He offered to stop by with coffee soon so we could continue our pleasant conversation.
Pleasant. Not exactly the word a man wants to hear when describing his dating aptitude.
When he showed up with two coffees, as promised, I was grateful.
“Well, you seem to be the talk of the town,” Max said brightly.
“Morning!” I said, glancing up at the clock and noticing that it was actually almost lunchtime. Had three hours passed already? No wonder I felt so tired. “I thought my dad said that you both were booked well into this afternoon.”
He smiled, depositing my coffee on the counter next to a freshly cut pile of robin’s-egg-blue hydrangeas.
“He is, but I had a couple schedule changes and I thought I’d see if you were free for lunch. Pick up where we left off. But judging by this stack, I’d say you’re not,” he said, eyes widening at the pile of orders under a paperweight labeled TODAY.
“It’s been … busy. To say the least. Good busy, but busy nonetheless. Thanks for the offer, though. I brought myself a sandwich from the house because I’d be working through lunch because of a meeting with Nick.”
“Oh yeah? What’s he stopping in for?” he asked, pulling up the stool to the counter.
“We’re supposed to go over ideas for this project he has down in Barreton. I said I’d like to take a look. It’s sort of nice to have someone else in the business to talk to about things. You know, bounce ideas off of, whatever,” I replied, continuing to work with the foam and short, square wooden box that was for a birthday arrangement.
He nodded, then sipped his coffee. Max seemed happy to just hang out and chat, but I was pressed for time.
My fingers were stiffening up. They did that whenever I stopped working for a couple of minutes. I tried stretching them and shaking them out, but Max grabbed my right hand and proceeded to try to examine the nicks and scratches that decorated them. It was both weirdly medical and oddly personal all at once.
He brought my hand to his lips, and I waited for the tingles, sparks—hell, even a blip on the meter.
Nothing.
I thought that the reason I didn’t feel anything after he took me home and kissed me on the cheek was because I was bone-dead tired. But again, nothing.
Slowly, I pulled my hand away. I didn’t want to be mean or insensitive, but I wasn’t in the right headspace for him at the moment. “I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but the people who ordered these are coming in for this in about an hour and I still have a bit to go.”
He looked apologetic. “My timing is never great.” He laughed. “I can leave. I just thought I’d stop in to see if I could steal you away for a few minutes.”
“The offer is tempting. I won’t lie.” I smiled up at him, and seeing his disappointment mirroring my own, I weighed my options.
I could leave for half an hour, enjoy getting to know Max for a bit, maybe will some excitement into our interactions. But then I’d have to stay late again to catch up.
“Are you free tonight? For a coffee over at the bookstore?” I asked.
I shook my head slowly, but Max wasn’t looking at me but at his Apple Watch. I was wondering what in the ever-loving hell I was thinking.
The bookstore? You. Idiot.
“Yes, that sounds great, actually. I have to stop in anyway to pick up an order. Gigi talked me into joining the book club this month. I don’t know when I’ll have time to read, but she’s a hard woman to say no to.”
“Great.”
The bell chimed overhead, and all the energy in the room shifted. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was walking through the door.
Carrying two coffees.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
“Max,” Henry said coolly. He looked embarrassed, and awkward.
“Henry,” Max replied, just as stiffly.
“I see you have coffee already,” Henry said pointedly to me.
Max looked between us quickly but then focused his attention on me. It felt like he was specifically watching my reaction to seeing Henry.
“Yeah, uh, Max just stopped in with coffee as a bit of a surprise,” I explained, hoping to make it clear that this wasn’t a planned event.
But last night was planned, and he probably saw us, which was why he left and didn’t return.
Even if it was planned, Charlotte—who cares? Not Henry, he’s not interested in short-term, and Max is.
I was going to push the inside voice in front of traffic.
“Oh, you know Charlotte, too?” Max finally asked, taking an imperceptible step closer to me.
Henry didn’t miss the move and took a step forward. “We go way back.”
“Oh yeah,” Max replied, seemingly uninterested in what Henry said. “From when you guys were kids?”
It was a Ping-Pong match, and I was in the crowd watching the ball fly back and forth.
A dig here, a zip there. I’d never seen either of them act this way before.
“Yep, even walked into kindergarten together,” Henry shot out smugly. You could tell that he thought that was game point.
Admittedly, the arrogant banter wasn’t something I normally enjoyed, but this was giving me insight into Henry, my past, and just how much the thought of Max and me together was annoying him.
Pettiness, thy name is Charlotte.
Max didn’t seem to care about the shared and apparently storied history of Charlotte and Henry, judging by his yawn. With a casual lean against the counter, he picked up one of the hydrangeas and spun it around in his fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Gigi mentioned that at the welcome-home dinner.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. Coffee now, dinner with the family, then dinner alone. I could see the annoyance growing in his eyes. The blue darkened like a storm was taking over the sky.
“You’re the one she can’t remember.”
Game, set, match. Max won the day.
Henry stiffened, his fingers clutching the recycled paper cups to the point that I thought they would puncture the cups and send coffee all over the shop. If I wasn’t watching him closely, I wouldn’t have noticed the way his shoulders deflated just a bit, or how his eyes returned to the soft blue they always were.
