I despise open-ended questions. I’m sure that’s why they use them for interviews, but I feel immediate panic begin to creep in. All my rehearsed responses flee from my mind as I struggle to remember how words work.
“Well. I like books.”
Oh, my God.I want to smack myself. And this is why I hate the idea of job interviews. The woman asked a basic question, and the best answer I could come up with was “I like books”?
Mary smiles and gives an encouraging nod. “That’s always a plus, since thisisa library. But what else? What moved you to apply? What do you hope to gain by working here?”
The woman’s smile calms me, and I quickly begin to relax a bit. “I have a degree in English Literature. I would like to do something with that, and I’ll be moving here in a few weeks, so I need a job that’s close. So yes, I love books, but I would also like the chance to work around them every day.”
The old woman’s smile grows, and I somehow manage to relax even more. It doesn’t take long before we fall into what feels like easy conversation. Mary reminds me of a classic sweet grandma, and by the time we finish chatting, it doesn’t feel like I’ve been on a job interview.
She stands and reaches out her wrinkled hand once again. “Thank you for coming in. I think you’d be a really good fit. Why don’t you take a few days and decide if this is the job for you, then give me a call. We don’t want to offer the job toanyone who doesn’t feel like they’d be a good fit. You may not have the experience, but you do have the other qualifications for the job. It’s been open for a little while, so don’t feel rushed as you think about if it’s the right fit for you and your family.”
I take her warm hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze as I stand to make my way toward the door. It doesn’t take me long to walk down the narrow hall and make my way out to my truck. I should have an excited smile on my face as I climb inside. But I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Things aren’t falling into place like I expected them to. Well…they are, but it doesn’t feel the way I imagined it would. The second I close the door of my truck, all I can think about is Hayden. If starting over is so right, then why does this feel so damn wrong?
Chapter 40
Hayden
Pulling into the gravel lot at Boulder Ranch, I can’t stop myself from scanning the area for even a glimpse of Miranda. We haven’t spoken since the awkward dinner with her parents the other day. Sierra hasn’t done much more than hint around at asking about Miranda and me, and I’m not sure I have answers for her anyway. Not when love might not be enough. I love Miranda more than I thought was possible. And I believe she loves me. But if she needs to go out on her own and try new things, all the love in the world won’t keep her here with us.
Sierra steps out of the truck, looking back briefly before disappearing into the barn. Instead of backing the truck out and heading home, I find myself sitting in the parking lot once again, hoping for a glimpse of Miranda. What I’ll do if I see her is still up in the air. I place my hand on the gear shift, preparing to put my truck in reverse to head home, when I catch a glimpse of light brown waves.
On autopilot, I rush toward the barn before I even know what’s happening. I don’t care if I’m being pathetic. I don’t care if she’s working. I have to talk to her. Gravel crunches beneath my boots as I cover the distance between us.
“Miranda,” I call out. “Miranda, wait!”
Miranda stops near the entrance of the barn, and I still haven’t worked out what I want to say. Her eyes search mine, causing the raw truth to come pouring from my lips. “Miranda, I love you. I want to be with you.Reallybe with you. Not just squeeze in some stolen moments here and there.”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “What—”
I continue when she doesn’t say more than that single word. “I know you want to start over and have a life of your own, and I won’t try to talk you out of it. I’ll support you any way I can. But what if your fresh start was with me?”
“Hayden, things between us are new. What exactly are you saying…?”
Reaching out, I take her hand in mine and pull her off to the side of the barn so we can speak in private. Keeping her hand in mine, I pull her a bit closer and use my thumb to make small circles along the inside of her wrist.
“I’m saying I’m all in. I don’t want to just see where this goes. If you still want to spread your wings and try new things in a new place, that’s fine. But unless you tell me you don’twant me, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I will drive to Carruthersville every damn day just to see you if I have to.”
Tears stream down her cheeks, and my heart squeezes. I’ve said the wrong thing. Or said too much. She closes her eyes when I gently swipe away her tears.
“Sweetheart, why are you crying?”
Hazel eyes meet mine, and my breath hitches at the fear and unease reflected in them. “Because I don’t know what to do.”
I immediately pull her to me, and she buries her face in my chest, giving in to her sobs. Tightening my arms around her, I hold her close as she fists the back of my T-shirt and cries. There’s no telling how long we stand this way, with me pressing the occasional kiss to the top of her head, trying my best to comfort her.
“I’m sorry,” she says as she takes a step back and wipes her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Don’t apologize. And you don’t have to decide anything right now. I just needed you to know how I feel. I’m not saying you should stay where you are, and things should stay the same just because of the way I feel about you…but a life with Sierra and me could be a fresh start. I get the feeling there’s a reason she happened to mention her school’s librarian retired.”
Miranda continues to stare at me wide-eyed, and when she parts her lips to speak, I cover her mouth with mine. She tenses for a moment, then melts into me, her lips molding perfectlywith mine. Before I can deepen the kiss, I pull back and rest my forehead against hers.
“You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it.”
Turning, I walk away before I can change my mind. Of course I want her to say something. I want her to tell me I’m not alone in my feelings. But I know Miranda well enough to give her space and time to decide. She’s lived her entire adult life doing the things she thought she should be doing and not necessarily the things she wants to do. If she decides to stay—to give us a real chance, I want it to be what she wants. Not because she wants to appease me.
I don’t look back as I make the short trek to my truck, but I feel her eyes on me. If I turn around, I’ll demand she stay. Demand she tell the apartment complex she changed her mind and turn down the job at the library if it was offered to her. I didn’t tell her I loved her so she would say it back, but the fact that she didn’t weighs heavily on my chest.
