She startles, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I come in at three to close.”
“I’ll be opening for El if she’s not feeling better.”
“I’ll see you then.” She pauses, sways forward as if testing a leanin, but I keep my eyes fixed ahead.
“Bye.” My word is extra choppy, and I don’t steal even a tiny glance as she climbs out of the car. I’m such a jerk to not walk her to her door. The thing is, I can’t ward off another one of those moments while standing next to her. I open my window, letting in cold air, and inhale it deeply.
I should be better in the morning. This is a weird fluke. We clearly got caught up in the dancing and acting like a couple stuff. I wait in the car until she’s safely in the building. Then I wait longer—nine more minutes to be exact—until I see a light flash on in her apartment window. No, that’s not creepy at all. It’s one hundred percent gentleman. Now that I know she’s safe, I can go home.
As I drive, my mind wanders to Pappi. The whole skit we had pulled on him had started off as a friendly gesture we didn’t think would last more than a minute or two. We ended up spending the evening joking, eating and laughing with his family, as if we were family. Everyone in that room was supporting him in his final days, and I don’t regret what we did for him. Ashley had said privately he’d spent the last year in a bit of a homesick stupor, since he couldn’t understand why his Alisa didn’t call. Maybe someday God will punish us for what we did tonight. I can’t help that at this moment I was honored to have met him. He will leave a lasting impression on me.
I shake my head as I turn the corner, returning to my hotel. “Life’s so short. Who's to say you're owed any time?”
Thinking of my own grandma and how she ignored my call, a sour taste coats in my throat. We used to be so close. I’d assumed she’d eventually come around to understanding why I didn’t want to run a construction company. It seems silly now. In the big picture, does the job you have really matter?
I park in my hotel parking lot, but don’t shut off my car right away. Instead, I pull out my phone and construct the perfect text for my grandma. One to explain to her everything I was feeling and everything I had felt all these weeks we weren’t talking. This wasn’t about me not having money to pay my loan. I need her to know how much I miss her. I type and delete so many words because I have so much to say to her. In the end, after nearly thirty minutes of analyzing every word combo, I settle on the perfect text.
Me: I love you, Grandma.
I reread it, a reminiscent grin lacing my lips as I press send. With my car being off for nearly thirty minutes now, it is quite chilly in here, but I don’t stow my phone away just yet. I had a hunch about something. I quickly construct another text.
Me: Portia, thank you for tonight.
I press send as fast as I can before losing my nerve and go inside.
twenty-five
Portia
“Dad?” I answer my phone before my eyes are even open the following morning.
“Did Oliver catch anything this morning?”
“What?” Pressing on my forehead, I force my mind to focus on the present. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“No way.” I pull myself to a seated position and squint at my alarm clock—11:47. Yep, almost noon. I can’t believe I slept that long. I don’t remember waking up once or even dreaming. It was the most restful sleep I’d had in a while. “Ah, I’m still in bed. I overslept.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I think so.” Curious myself, I swipe my forehead with the back of my hand and run my hand down my cheek. Nothing feels warm. “I was out late last night at a fundraiser thing for work.”Scooting to the edge of the bed, I slip my feet into my slippers and stand. “Are you heading to Home Hardware?”
“No, not today since it’s New Year’s Eve. I want to invite you over for a bowl of my famous chili later. We could watch the ball drop on TV.”
“Well, you do have the best chili, but I close tonight. It will be after eight by the time I get everything cleaned up.” Rubbing my chin, I did the time math. “Can I call you when I’m almost done with my shift? Depending on how busy we are, I may be too tired to come over.”
“I’ll keep it in the crockpot, and it will be ready whenever.”
“Sounds good.” Mr. Noodles flies out from under the sink, where apparently he’d been sleeping. He loves resting in there, especially when it’s extra warm inside, and I haven’t been leaving the window cracked anymore. His eyes are on me as he slinks next to his bowl and nudges it forward. “I better go, Dad. Someone needs breakfast.”
When I end my call, a text message flashes on my screen.
Christian: Portia, Thank you for tonight.
A zap slams into my gut, bringing back all the tingles from last night, and I’m instantly giddy inside. I had vowed to try to be friends with him. What I never expected was to see him so vulnerable. When he explained what love was to him, I literally melted like lava in an active volcano. I’d never heard any man speak about something so swoony in my life.
Everything feels different after last night. Christian isn’t that stone-faced person he’d been. Truthfully, he felt different for the last couple of days. But this was even more different, different. It's more than trying to be friends. Like when I look at him, my breath gets trapped in my lungs.
