My cheeks warm as I stow my phone back in my purse and smile politely at Bill. “Noah should be here right away. Hopefully.” I look around, seeing the stacks of pantry items. Everything from cups to ketchup to huge bags of chips, and it inspires me to crack a joke. “At least we shouldn’t go hungry. We have all kinds of snacks.”
“Right.” He chuckles as his gaze floats over the shelves. “What kind do you like?”
“Oh, I like all kinds of snacks. It’s actually my thing. I don’t discriminate.”
He reaches above his head and slides out a box of individual-sized chip bags, and opens it, grabs a bag of pretzels for himself, and holds the box open toward me. “Which kind is your favorite?”
“That’s easy,” I say, unable to resist a distraction and pluck out a bag, stating my selection, “Sour cream and onion.” We open our bags and take noisy bites as we stand, staring at the door like it might spontaneously pop open any second. I shift my weight awkwardly as he clears his throat. “Well,” he says, flashing a kind smile, “if I had to be locked in a closet with someone…”
I’m smiling a little when I reply, “I agree, there could be worse situations.”
“Like who?” His smile turns crooked. “Who would be the last person on earth you’d want to be locked in a closet with?”
“Well, truthfully, not many people.” I rub the bridge of my nose as I ponder how personal I want to get. Bill has this way of getting me to open up. He did it on our non-date. Now that I’m aware of that superpower, I resist it. “So, if we are going for real-life people, my great aunt Nellie, who wears way too much perfume. If we are making hypotheticals, I’d say Ross from that TV showFriends.”
“How do you have anything against Ross?” Bill raises his brows, mocking shock. “He carried that show, especially the last two seasons.”
“I don’t have anything against him, but he’s one of those book smart guys who has all the smart facts, but zero life skills. Like he can tell you all about the history of the door locks, and all about the evolution of technology, but he’d crashout if he had to stand here for any real length of time.”
“Clearly, the panic was for comedy, but if that’s your pick, then fair enough.” Bill pushes out his lower lip into a thinking position. “I’ll be honest, that's not what I was expecting. I’d have thought you’d say an ex or something.”
“An ex?” my voice squeaks, as all a sudden we are in uncharted waters. “No, I, uh, don’t have many of those,” I say a little too quickly. “I haven’t dated since I was married to Noah’s dad.” There’s a pause, just long enough for the curiosity to settle in the air. “He passed away,” I add softly. “Asthma attack. It was just a normal Tuesday workday. He was running late because he stayed behind to help me get Noah ready for a doctor’s checkup. Noah was just little and a handfull. There was never enough time in the morning.” I offer a small, awkward shrug, like that somehow makes this conversation less personal. “He never wentanywhere without his inhaler or his phone. Except that one time…because he was running behind.”
His expression shifts instantly as his jaw drops in surprise, then something softer. “Wow. I had no idea,” he says, his voice low. “That must’ve been devastating. Especially with Noah being so young.” He goes quiet, which frankly I like that he doesn’t try to say anything to comfort me. That’s the worst. I hate when people pity me, or even more awkwardly make a weird joke to cheer me up. He just stands there, and after a pause says, “For what it’s worth, you did an amazing job raising him.”
My eyes are burning. I need out of this topic, but since I’m literally locked into a conversation with Bill, I revert the attention back to him. “So, it's your turn. Who is your last person to be locked in a closet with? Do you have an ex you can’t stand?”
“I’ve got one of those.” He nods for the fast breath before his brow lowers, and his eyes darken. “But ah, no, I’d be fine chatting with her. My last person would be a guy who once was my best friend. We played hockey together all through our childhood, and we both got recruited to the NHL. For a long time, we were inseparable. I trusted him with everything, including my girlfriend. I got sick on prom night, and I couldn’t fathom being the reason she missed her senior prom. I trusted Blake with everything in me, and I begged him to sub for me, which ended up being a mistake when he stole her from me.”
I blink, surprised he said it so plainly. “Wow. That’s bold of him. And incredibly dumb of her. I bet she regrets that.” I mean it to be lighthearted to cheer him up, but it’s also true. The dude is a billionaire. I think it’s every woman’s dream to marry someone who can wipe all her financial struggles away. He doesn’t say anything, so I add a little softer, “That must’ve really hurt. Losing two people like that.” I tilt my head, offering a small smile. “Also, if it helps at all, I’m sure she’s kicking herself nowwhen she sees all your success, especially since you’ve been in the news so much with this team. She has to regret it every day.”
“I’ve long since forgotten about her. It’s his betrayal that haunts me, because Blake and I had been friends our whole lives. It felt like my whole life was a lie. I guess he taught me a hard lesson about trusting people. You never know who people really are.”
“That’s sad but true. It’s hard to trust people.” I nod with empathy.
“I guess learning those lessons is part of life.” He finishes his snack and crushes the bag, stuffing it in his pocket before clearing his throat. “I’ve thought about you a lot though.”
My breath hitches in the back of my throat, and I immediately jerk my gaze to the floor, desperate for somewhere to look that isn’t his face.
Don’t do this.
Don’t look at him.
What am I supposed to say?
“Uh,” I get out, but he speaks over the top of me.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks gently.
I flinch and regretfully look at him, hoping he sees how I don’t want to talk about it. “No.”
He waits with wide eyes. It honestly breaks my heart a little, because he appears to think there’s something wrong with him.
That was never the case!
“You were perfect,” I say quietly. “Our non-date was perfect. You, bringing me that framed photo of the bridge to my diner was perfect. Everything was perfect.”
I blink, but he doesn’t give me a chance to avert his gaze as he is locked in. So, I swallow and drop the last part, “I just— I didn’t want to mess up Noah’s thing with the team. It feels a little too close there. Like a conflict of interest, and he’s worked so hard to get where he is.”
