to touch the candied pinks and oranges of the evening sky. We ride for a few minutes, country music playing softly through the speakers. It’s a comfortable quiet, the kind that could lure you to a peaceful sleep if you wanted it to. I wonder how I can feel so alive and so calm at the same time.
He takes an exit on the highway that leads out of town.
“Did you hear from the flower shop job today?” he asks.
“No, actually. I didn’t.” I bite my lip.
“Maybe she got busy.”
“I hope so.” I look at him and accept the sweet smile he gives me. “The more I think about it, the more I really hope that works out. But hope is a scary thing, you know.”
“I didn’t know that.”
I sigh. “Oh, it is. Hope is like the peak of a mountain. If the wind blows the right way, you fall into a beautiful meadow on one side. And if the wind knocks you the other way, there’s snow and ice and no hot chocolate in sight.”
He laughs. “You with the analogies.”
“But you know what I’m saying. It’s the precursor to disappointment a lot of the time.”
“That’s life, Haley.”
“Yeah. I guess. But this time, I’m focusing on the meadow side of the mountain and letting myself have a little hope.”
He watches me out of the corner of his eye. “What makes you like the flower shop so much?”
I try to put into words the fuzziness in my chest when I walk into the shop. The warmth that spreads over my body when I see flowers and how happy it makes me to see other people giving and receiving the simple joy of a single bud.
“It’s one of the simplest sources of pleasure.” As soon as I say it, I know I’ve walked into a minefield. He snickers. “Oh no,” I say as his smirk spreads over his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I was going to suggest you get out more,” he cracks.
I try to play it off but feel my cheeks warm. “What I meant was I love how something so simple can just turn someone’s day around. Flowers just make people smile.” I rest my head on the seat and look at him. “At least they do me.”
“I’m sure Jen will call,” he says. “And if she doesn’t, her loss. And I might’ve overheard the ladies in the bank today saying they were going to be hiring. Just a heads-up.”
“Thank you,” I say, pleased he was thinking of me today. “Guess I need to make sure to nail this résumé, huh?”
“You will. We will,” he says. “We’ll find your salable assets and play them up. It’ll be easy.”
I groan. “I don’t know about that. I can’t even figure out what pertinent skills I have to ‘sell myself,’ as you say.”
“You have people skills,” he offers. “I mean, I’ve seen you in action. You can be kind of a jerk to me, but others seem to like you well enough.”
“Hey!”
He looks at me, stopping me in my tracks. His eyes are scrunched up at the sides, his lips curled in a soft way. My hand falls from the door as I feel my heart leap into my throat.
He looks back toward the road. “You have childcare skills,” he says, clearing his throat. “That means you can keep things alive. And you probably filed books and stuff, too, right? That’s office experience.”
I study him from the side as he focuses on the road. I wonder what all he’s done in his life, what experiences he’s had. I imagine him with some six-year plan to becoming independently wealthy, and suddenly, I’m extremely out of place.
He catches me staring just before I tug my eyes off him. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“No, what were you going to say?” He narrows his eyes with a lighthearted wink. “Say it.”
“You shouldn’t press. It’s rude.”
He pulls the truck up at a red light and stops. “You know I’m not going to let this go.”
I blow out a breath and watch the cars pass in front of us. “I’m not saying this to be whiny, because no one likes a whiner, but it’s just occurred to me that I’ve probably wasted the last handful of years of my life.”
“First of all, you’re right. No one likes a whiner.”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” I point out. “Next time, leave me alone.”
He laughs, his cackle filling the truck. As annoyed as I want to be with him, I