Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Anna

After our giant breakfast—that I didn't finish and am taking home with me in a box—Troy offers to walk me to my car.

"But didn't you say you had to park several blocks away? And you came from that way," I point in the direction he came from. "I'm over here." I hook a thumb over my shoulder.

He's standing close to me. So close. And he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, which has me so flustered I feel like I might swallow my tongue.

"I don't mind walking a little extra," he says, his voice so low it's more of a rumble in his chest.

"Oh, well, um, okay then."

He gives me a crooked smile, then reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. "Is this okay?" he asks softly, and I nod because I've suddenly lost the power of speech.

We walk hand in hand but don't speak. This time, though, it's comfortable, unlike the awkward silence we faced at the beginning of our date.

How in the world have I ended up on a date with a professional hockey player?

Sure, he's retired now, but still.

When we arrive at my car, I point at it, clicking the fob to unlock it. "This is me."

He glances around, eyebrows raised. "How'd you manage to score a place so close to the restaurant?"

I shrug, not trying to repress my grin. "Just lucky I guess."

He pulls me around in front of him, our hands still joined. "Hmm. You're not the only one." Then he leans down and brushes a kiss on my cheek. "Is it okay if I call you later?"

Once again tongue-tied, I can only nod. I don't trust my voice to come out as more than a croak, and that would be embarrassing.

He grins, squeezes my hand, releases it, and steps back, giving me room to get to my car. Part of me doesn't want to, doesn't want this to end, but I don't know what to say or do to prolong it. And maybe it's best to end the date now. He's walked me to my car. Kissed me on the cheek (!!) and said he'll call me later.

Even if he doesn't, this was a perfect start to my plan to get out more, be more adventurous, and become a different person. One who'd know how to extend a date they're enjoying. But I'm not that person yet.

Next time , I promise myself. Next time I want a date to continue, I'll figure out how to make it happen . Maybe I can google it when I get home. Come up with some phrases and suggestions to have in mind for future reference.

It's been so long since I've been on any kind of date that it's understandable I'd be flustered.

And future dates aren't likely to include professional athletes. Future dates will likely be with normal, run-of-the-mill attractive guys, not professional model-looking guys like Troy.

Because let's face it, even if he does call me, even if we go out again a time or two, he's only here on vacation. This was good practice, but that's all it can be.

Once I'm in my car and about to back out of my spot, he holds up his hand in a wave. I wave back before looking behind me, pulling out, and driving away.

I spend the rest of the day restless, unable to settle into my usual routine of laundry, cleaning, knitting, and TV. It's like Troy has short-circuited some key part of my wiring that's been keeping me going for years.

I'm not sure I like it.

While I enjoyed our date, I'm scared of what seeing him again will do to me. If one drink and one brunch are enough to have me this discombobulated and unable to find enjoyment in the things I normally like, how much worse will it get if this continues?

And then what happens when he leaves?

After Jared, I was a disaster. A heartbroken wreck who couldn't keep it together at all. The fact that I had two weeks of vacation scheduled was the only reason I didn't get fired before quitting because I couldn't have managed to go into the office at the car dealership his parents owned and ran and face everyone. When I did eventually return, because two weeks wasn't enough to find the new trajectory for my life, especially when I spent the entire first week sobbing in my bed, it was as awful as I feared it would be.

I've never felt so alone as I did then. I was mortified, humiliated, and I pushed everyone away. My parents still give me more space than they used to, and I never figured out how to close that gap. Not that we were exceptionally close before, but even now, our weekly phone calls have a certain perfunctory quality that they didn't before.

Or maybe it's me. Maybe that event changed me so much that I haven't been able to let anyone in since then.

Look at me now. I've moved to a new city, lived and worked here for four years, and I have a few acquaintances, but no real friends. The friends I had from college, I'm now only friends with on social media. The combination of moving away and not reciprocating their efforts to reach out effectively strangled those relationships. It's a wonder I haven't managed to do that here, too. Maybe it's just because there are so few people to form relationships with in a small town that Brit hasn't given up on me. Or maybe it's because she feels lonely and adrift after her best friend moved away, so she's trying again with me. Or maybe she just likes collecting friends.

And I'm terrified of getting at all close to the one man who's shown genuine interest in me in years.

"Ugh!" I say aloud, groaning at the clothes as I'm putting them away. "What is wrong with me? I decided to change, to stop hiding, and now that I've poked my head out of my gopher hole, I'm ready to burrow back underground again? The whole point was to change! To do different things! And I did something different, and now my old things don't feel right anymore, but the new things are too scary to lean into. What am I going to do with myself?"

Just then, my phone chimes with a text message.

Troy

Brunch was delicious. Thank you for inviting me.

My heart lurches at the sight, which seems like a bad sign. How is this guy affecting me this much already? That shouldn't be possible.

I'm a master at keeping people at a distance. And yet …

I don't want to with Troy.

I had a nice time too. Thank you for paying. That wasn't necessary, since I invited you

Troy

It was our first date! Of course I paid. I told you I wanted to give you a more positive first date experience than a night out at a bar

The grin on my face is irrepressible, but I still feel the need to cover my mouth with my hand, as though hiding my smile will somehow dampen the joy I feel at a few simple texts.

It was much better than a date at a bar, though I did enjoy spending time with you in the bar last night

Troy

Me too

Heaving a deep breath, I finally drop my hand from my face, letting my smile free. Suddenly, I'm capable of accomplishing all of my usual weekend tasks, happily floating from laundry to dishes to cleaning the bathtub with no trace of the anxiety that plagued me before the texts from Troy.

Some part of my brain realizes that's not actually better, and could in some ways be considered worse, but right now I just want to bask in the happy feelings and not worry about anything else.

When I sit down with my knitting in front of the show I'm currently binging—a rewatch of Parks and Recreation —my phone chimes with another text. My stomach swoops with momentary disappointment when I see it's not Troy.

Brit

Hey! How's your weekend going? I heard you were spotted at Cascade Cafe with a spectacular specimen of a man. Was it the same guy from last night?

I roll my lips between my teeth at her alliteration, chewing on my lower lip while I decide how to respond. But I'm consciously making an effort to let Brit befriend me, aren't I? Which means making an effort to be friendly. And friends do this, they tell each other about who they're dating.

My roommate in college, Mindy, always told me about her dating exploits and wanted to hear about mine. And while my stories were always pretty tame, she was unfailingly encouraging and happy for me throughout my relationship with Jared. And tried her best to be supportive when it ended. Maybe I should reach out to her. I've thought about it a few times over the last few years, but I kinda figured I tanked that relationship good and hard and convinced myself she wouldn't want to hear from me at this point anyway.

But I could apologize. Extend a cautious offer to resurrect our friendship, even if it won't ever be what it once was. Even if she doesn't want to be friends with me again, an apology is still warranted.

First, I need to respond to Brit.

Hey! My weekend's going well. How's yours? Yes, that was me at the Cascade Cafe with the same guy from last night. I invited him out for brunch.

Brit

Wow! That's awesome. Good for you! I was going to see if you wanted to join me for brunch tomorrow, but you might be all brunched out. Or maybe you have other plans. [Winky face emoji]

Lol, no, I don't have other plans. Where were you thinking of going?

Brit

Since you hit the Cascade Cafe today, we could do the creperie instead? Grab some crepes and eat outside at one of the picnic tables out front?

That sounds great. Should we say 11?

Brit

Perfect. See you then!

I add the meeting to my calendar, then scroll through my contacts, stopping when I get to Mindy. I study her name and number for several long moments before tapping the button to send a text.

It takes several more minutes before I compose something, with multiple false starts, deleting things, and staring up at the ceiling while I compose an apology that takes responsibility without making excuses. It's the most difficult type of apology because it doesn't leave any room for defensiveness, but it's also the best kind because it doesn't feel like weaseling out of responsibility. After Jared left, he eventually sent me a non-apology apology text, and I sat and read it so many times, analyzing why and how it wasn't good enough, and in that process, I came up with what makes a real apology. And this is what it amounts to—take responsibility, express regret, and don't make excuses or try to shift blame.

Mindy, I want to apologize for how I behaved after Jared left. I treated you horribly, and I'm very sorry. I'm living in Arcadian Falls now. If you ever come out this way, don't hesitate to reach out. I'd love to take you out for lunch or dinner if you're in town.

After typing it out, I stare at it for a long time, trying to decide if there's anything else I should add or delete. Is the offer of lunch too blithe? Should I delete that part?

Ultimately, I decide yes, I should, replacing it with, "I'd love to reconnect if you're open to the possibility," and hit send.

Sucking in a deep breath, I put my phone on silent, set it on the table, turn on my show, and pick up the sock I'm knitting. It's simple and mindless and exactly what I need right now.