“Hi, Holden. How are you feeling?”
Embarrassed, sore, and groggy. I’d like the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
“Fine,” is what I reply.
“That’s good, you didn’t look great last night.”
Oh, way to remind me exactly how I looked in front of him last night. I revise my earlier thought; I want the ground to swallow him up instead. I don’t answer. I know he helped me but I’m not thanking him, he doesn’t deserve that.
He lifts the paper bag. “I brought cinnamon rolls. I remember that coffee shop which makes the best in the county.” He places the bag on the counter. The smell wafts towards me—warm, sweet cinnamon with a hint of nutmeg. He’s right,their cinnamon rolls are award-winning. My stomach grumbles reminding me I haven’t eaten anything for a long time.
Mrs. Goodman reaches the counter, and Reece moves away and starts browsing the store while I ring up her order. Once the door has closed behind her he makes his way back over. He looks just as handsome as he did last night, dressed today in jeans and a black tee. It’s classic and understated, and it makes me feel gawky in my sweater. Another knitted creation, more muted today as that’s how I’m feeling.
Now we’re alone, a cold prickle of nerves crawls up my skin. I don’t allow it to develop any further and I blurt out, “W-what is it you want?”
It would’ve sounded better without the stammer, but that’s not something I can help. I see a flash of surprise cross his face. Good, he wasn’t expecting that, and a small tingle of triumph fizzes through me making me feel a bit better.
“Like I said last night, I want to apologize.”
He pauses. Is he expecting a response?
“Okay,” I give him flatly.
"I’m sorry, truly sorry for how I treated you in those last few months of high school. It was very wrong of me.”
The door opens and a group of customers enter the store and start looking at the yarns. This is not the place to start this conversation.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh.
“Fine? That’s it? Just fine?” His voice is incredulous laced with a hint of hurt. Good.
“No, Reece.” I lower my voice to almost a hiss but I’m emboldened by other people around. “It’s not fine. You can’t come here after twenty years and expect me to forgive you in two sentences.”
His face creases slightly and I’m glad, but I’m also disappointed that he thought this would work. The customers move closer to us.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.” It’s more polite than he deserves and he stands there for a few seconds. I think he’s going to say something else but he presses his lips together like he thinks better of it. Instead he gives me a slight nod and turns to go.
“You forgot your cinnamon rolls,” I call out as he reaches the door. He looks back at me with an almost sad expression on his face.
“I bought them for you.”
When he’s gone I allow the deep breath I’d been holding to escape and grip the counter for support as my knees feel like jelly. But I did it. I stood up to him, and that revelation makes me feel a whole lot better.
“You’ll never guess what happened,” Clara exclaims excitedly as she bursts through the door thirty minutes later. I know I don’t need to answer her, she’ll tell me anyway. She flings her bag down onto one of the easy chairs.
“I just saw the most awkward promposal ever. In the hotel foyer, there were flowers and balloons and there was this guy—well, two guys, and a woman. And I thought the first guy was going to ask the other one to the prom, but in the end the woman did, and it looked super awkward.”
“That does sound weird.” I agree with her. I’m used to her gossip by now so it probably wasn’t as dramatic as she makes it sound. “You can point them out to me later.”
“Are you still planning on going tonight, then?” she asks, a concerned frown creasing her brow. “How are you feeling?”
Now I’ve stood up to Reece once, and it worked, I know I can do it again. I’m not going to let him ruin my weekend, and it will truly be the opportunity to show him he hasn’t won, which was the point of going in the first place.
“I’ll be alright as long as I don’t drink.”
“That’s the spirit,” she says.
“I said no alcohol,” I retort and earn myself an eye-roll. I’m good at bad dad jokes.
