A part of me had hoped my mom would be proud of me—would care that her only daughter is being recognized before the entire town of Suitor’s Crossing—but her apparent disinterest proves how wrong I’d been to think this time would be any different than every other time we’re together.
“Meetings are usually an hour. I’m not sure when they’ll mention the award, though.” Most of the attendees are speaking along the edges of the room with cups of the provided hot coffee in hand; no one seems in a particular hurry to start the meeting early since there are still about ten minutes before it's officially slated to begin.
Mom huffs in annoyance and pulls out her phone. “Just remember I have to pick up Bob’s groceries at eleven-thirty, so this better not run long. Shouldn’t have even come,” shemumbles under her breath. “Now you’ve got me stressed about work.”
A guilty flush heats my cheeks as I focus on the bright screen of my own phone, my skin tingling in shame and disappointment. She’d mentioned work when I asked her to come with me last week, but I convinced her to attend anyway, promising it wouldn’t interfere with her schedule. Then on the drive here, she brought it up again, deflating my sense of accomplishment even more.
Colors blur on the phone screen as I bite my tongue and rapidly blink away tears. I should have known she’d ruin this for me. Everyone comes before me. Even Bob, a random man in her neighborhood that she somehow agreed to run small errands for. Mom lives off checks from the VA since my dad died, and to make ends meet, she does odd jobs around town when she feels like it.
They’re always at strange times and never pressing, but somehow they become a matter of life or death when one happens to fall during a time I need her. Like when I had surgery for my wisdom teeth and needed a ride home—Mom was an hour late picking me up because she wanted to start a load of laundry for a friend. Or when I booked us a mother/daughter spa package for her birthday, and she told me that another friend asked to be driven to the library.
Every errand is vague with “friends” I don’t know yet take priority over me.
You were stupid to ask her to come today.
But I’ll make the same mistake again… and again—because no matter how many times she lets me down, my optimistic personality refuses to let me quit trying.
A notification appears at the top of my screen, and I eagerly click on it to view my ‘Music Year Unwrapped.’ I love insights like these, enjoy the snapshot they provide of who I am.
Music starts playing once the app opens, and I hurry to turn down the volume before reading about my top artists and my listening personality. “Hey, Mom, look. They deemed me an ‘Out of This World Explorer.’ Check out the rest of my traits.” I offer her my phone to scroll through the slides.
“No, I don’t want to.” She rolls her eyes and a grimace tightens her mouth. “When is the damn thing going to start?”
Deflated, I sink back into the chair. It’s not a big deal, just a stupid app, but my heart squeezes painfully as if it's a personal affront. Like she doesn’t even care to learn this small thing about me.
“Can I see?” A low male voice sounds behind us, and I turn to find Austin Fielding, The Ole Aces bar owner. Scars pucker his face from time spent in the military while his large frame barely fits the small folding chair he’s seated in.
“What?”
He motions toward my phone. “Your listening personality. Learning about other people’s preferences always fascinates me. Plus the song that was playing is one of my favorites, so I’m curious to see how we match up. But if that’s weird or…”
“No!” My body twists to face him more fully, though chamber members are starting to take their seats to start the meeting. “I mean, you can look if you want. Everybody jokes about seeing the repetitive shares on social media, but I like seeing what people listen to, too,” I finish dumbly, pausing on the second ‘too.”
Try to act normal, Luna.
To be fair, I realize I’m pretty quirky for our small town—everyone thinks I was named after Luna Lovegood fromHarry Potterdue to our similarities—but I’m working on toning it down around strangers. Not that Austin’s a complete stranger. I’ve been to his bar a couple of times and our friends are dating, so we’re aware of each other. But he tends to stick to himself.
“I’m Luna, by the way.” In case he forgot.
A strange light enters his eyes as his lips quirk upward. “Yeah, I know who you are, Luna.”
Oh.
“If we can have everyone’s attention, we’ll get started,” Dr. Avery announces from his center position up front, and the room quiets. Austin returns my phone, his fingertips brushing mine as if we’re in slow motion—each pinpoint of his touch eliciting a spark of recognition.
Heart sparks.
No, it can’t be.
Suitor’s Crossing has a town legend about finding your soul mate orheart spark, which I wholly believe is true, but surely Austin can’t be mine. We’ve been in each other’s company before and nothing happened. Yes, I find him attractive in a brooding mountain man kind of way, but that’s not howheart sparkswork.
Maybe it just required a touch.
“First order of business…” Another chamber member reads down the agenda as I straighten in my seat, contemplating the burst of electricity I felt between us. Static electricity? Perhaps. But the possibility of discovering myheart sparkconsumes my thoughts the entire meeting.
Overshadowing my acceptance of the award.
Distracting me from my mom’s attitude.
Is Austin Fielding the man meant to be mine?
Myheart spark?
