He was a bit fem, had a dark beard, an accent I couldn’t quite place, and a wedding ring on his finger. I had no idea who the Ren was that he’d mentioned, but I figured from the way the tall guy behind the counter had smiled at him that it was probably him.
Everyone seemed so friendly here. It was such a pretty town, nestled in the mountains by the river. I couldn’t wait to see it in full winter mode. Ro told me there was a Christmas festival in the town every year, and while that sounded fun, given it was mid-November already, it told me I didn’t have much time to get this store up and running to capture most of the Christmas trade.
So, Ro and I got busy painting walls. Plus the pre-cleaning and cutting in and everything else, and by the end of the second day, the awful, dirty sepia yellow was gone, and ‘First Snow’ warm white was in. It looked fresh, clean, and inviting.
It felt so good.
Good to be productive, good to get the ball rolling. Good to start this new chapter of our lives.
“Okay, I’ll head off first,” Ro said. Then she stretched out her shoulders and arms. “Ugh. I need a hot bath. But I’ll stop by the pizzeria first and pick up dinner. We’re not cooking tonight.”
The old farmhouse had one of those old-fashioned deep baths that was made for soaking tired and aching bodies.
“Sounds perfect,” I said. “I won’t be long here. Just gonna put a second coat on the windowsill.”
“Okay, darling,” she said, waving me off as she headed out to her car.
I finished the windowsill and, standing inmy new empty store, I took a minute to look around. I was so freaking happy. This was going to be the best thing that ever happened to me. A fresh start like the fresh coat of paint.
I intended to bury myself in work for the foreseeable future. No exes to run into to remind me how I was so lacking, how my being asexual was a fault or something they could fix.
No siree.
I had zero intention of making those same mistakes twice.
Or a third or fourth time, as the case may be.
This was my chance to start over. Build the business of my dreams, and get to live a fulfilling life, happily single forever, surrounded by books.
Cozy town, cozy bookstore, cozy me.
That was the plan.
And I couldn’t wait.
Locking up the store, I pulled on my coat and went out to my car. Found my favorite playlist, which I’d aptly named Best Songs for Being Gay. I cranked up the volume. Queen began to belt out “I want to break free” and I was giving it my best karaoke special, reversed out of my parking spot with enough vigor to make Freddie Mercury proud, and felt a thump and heard a godawful screech.
Even above my own godawful screeching.
I hit the brakes and shut the engine off. There was only silence, and I was almost too scared to get out... but then I saw a cat half drag itself to the side of the building.
Oh no!
I jumped out and ran over to it. It was not good. Lying very still and its back legs were...
Dear god.
I took off my coat and bundled the cat up, carrying it to my car. I drove off again, this time without the vigorand the screeching, but with extra panic and sobbing. There was a vet clinic we passed on our way from home, so I thankfully knew where it was.
There were still a few cars in the lot, and the lights were on inside.
Thank heavens.
I grabbed the bundle of coat and cat and raced it inside. There was a lady behind the reception counter, and she stood up when she saw me. “I hit a cat,” I said, crying, and I’m surprised she understood me.
“Come this way,” she said, quickly ushering me through a door.
A man in a white lab coat appeared and took the bundle from me, and I was all but pushed back out of the room.
