“I’m glad you finally had time. Sounds like getting fired was the best thing to happen to you.”
I thought it was, too. Until I made the mistake of falling for my client. Now I’m not sure which way is up. I keep hearing Hazel’s voice telling me to take a risk, to share my fears with Wes. But that would mean telling him all the gritty details of my life I wish I could forget. I’m not sure I’m ready to open the wounds I still don’t think have properly healed.
I smile. “I doubt I’ll ever want to work for someone else again, other than clients.”
After we finish saying our goodbyes, I make my way toward the garage, in no rush to return to my lonely house. As luck would have it, I soon find myself at that same crosswalk where my life changed earlier this summer. But this time, I’m not caught in a torrential downpour, everything slick with rain. The sun peeks through a few scattered clouds as it slowly descends toward the horizon.
The signal changes to WALK, and I step into the crosswalk, a nostalgic smile tugging on my mouth as I stare at the coffee shop. I can’t help but wonder what my life would look like if I hadn’t given Wes my business card. If I hadn’t pressed my luck and tried to make it across the street before the signal changed. If I hadn’t been fired.
If I had to do it all over again, would I do anything differently? Do I wish I had done anything differently?
Despite the way things played out, I can’t say I regret any of it. In my heart, I’d rather have felt what I did with Wes for the brief time we spent together than to never have crossed paths with him at all.
Then why do I keep pushing him away? Why does taking this leap of faith scare me more than heights or snakes?
Lost in the thought of whether I can share the darkest parts of myself with Wes, I don’t notice when I come to the end of the crosswalk. My foot catches on the curb, and I stumble directly into a hard, suit-clad body about to cross.
“Whoa. Easy there,” a familiar voice croons as an arm wraps around my torso.
I dart my head up, a flush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, my stomach fluttering as I peer into Wes’ striking blue eyes.
“What is it with you and this intersection?” he jokes when I don’t immediately say anything, too stunned to form a coherent thought.
I blink, unsure how to respond or act around him now. Apart from the occasional email about design choices, I haven’t spoken to him since the night of our kiss. But god, it’s good to see him again, to feel his warmth, to inhale his scent.
“I think it might be cursed,” I finally reply, stepping out of his hold, smoothing a hand over my dress. “And I can’t even blame it on heels this time.” I gesture to the Egyptian-style sandals laced up my legs.
“I may have to quit my job and man the corner just to keep you safe.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” I force a smile as an awkward silence descends on us.
I should walk away, thank him for helping me yet again, then hurry home. But I can’t manage to put one foot in front of the other, still as drawn to him as I was during our first meeting in this same spot.
“I got your email with the different options for the kitchen,” he offers.
“What did you think?” I ask quickly, doing a horrible job of masking the nerves in my voice.
“You choose. I’m sure whatever you decide will be perfect. Whenever I’ve questioned your ideas, you always ended up being right. I trust you.”
“Let’s go with the first option. It’ll have a vintage feel with a unique fridge and old-style stove, but will still be state-of-the-art.”
“Perfect.”
“Great.”
I stare at him, another awkward silence stretching between us. I feel like I should say something, but what? That I’ve missed him? That these past few weeks have been torture? That all day, all I wanted was to get into my car and drive to Gampy and Meemaw’s like I used to on Fridays. That’s when it hits me. He’s not there, either.