He waves at me as soon as he recognizes me, and a memory slams to the front of my brain—I’m supposed to give him his glove.
His glove is in my bag.
The bag that is in the Uber.
Uh, I hate this day so much.
I slowly face him, my chest tightening with dread.
“Did you miss the bus too?” he calls from his spot on the other side of the loop. Maybe it’s the natural lighting, but he looks different this morning. He’s still handsome, but his face is a tad scruffier than I remember. I squint but can’t detect the color of his eyes. They definitely look bright today. Not as grumpy as last night. I pray he’s not in a terrible mood because if he gives me grief about losing his glove, I won’t be able to hold back. I did everything I could.
“I had a flat tire,” I respond as we pace toward him, lowering my volume when we finally step on to the curb next to him. “I had to get an Uber. We got theone driverwho either had dementia and forgot the streets of Mapleton, or it was his first day on the job.”
“It sounds a lot like our morning.” A hearty chuckle leaks out. I can’t help but picture how that smile is going to deflate when he hears I lost his glove. Shaking his head, he replies, “Rigsby got a nervous stomach, and we had to stop at the drug store. There was only one checkout lane, and we got behind a woman who paid for thirty-two boxes of mac and cheese with change that she had to count out on the counter.”
“Oh.” My lips form an O and I wince. “That’s painful.”
“So...” His gaze drifts from Rigsby to Bella and back to me. “We missed the trip too.”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure how this is going to work.” I squint as I look down the road I assume my Uber took. “My ride left with my purse that had my college books, my keys, and my wallet . . .”I pause as he looks relatively unalarmed until I tack on the final item. “And your glove.”
He stares forward and calmly blinks as it takes a second to register what I’ve said. “What?”
“I know.” I shake my head, assuming he’ll commiserate with me. There is no empathy infused in his tone. I honestly don’t know how I’m not bawling real tears right now. It must be the shock that’s holding them back. My stomach is in knots, churning with sickness.
“How could you be so careless?” It’s total panic when he blurts out, “Do you understand how important that glove is? It’s literally priceless. The fate of the entire AHL is riding on that glove.”
I’m so taken back that my head jolts in surprise. “Me…careless?” I fumble to motion to myself with my thumb. “You lost that glove.” I fight the urge to jab at his chest with my pointer finger, because he’s acting so insanely rude right now. “I found your glove. Remember?”
A rumble that sounds surprisingly like the sound my dishwasher makes when it’s plugged clears his throat right before he barks, “I lost it byaccident.”
“Ope.” I can’t even form an actual word because this dude is so rude. I take a step back, creating some needed distance, and run my hand over the back of my neck. I get it. What I did was completely stupid, but he can’t possibly know the insane amount of stress I’m under. “You think I lost it on purpose?”
“I didn’t know it dropped out of my bag. You knew it was in your bag.” He studies me, disbelief etched across his face. “You forgot an entire bag.”
“I did.” I have no problem admitting my faults. And boy, do I want to go off at the audacity of this man to insult me for not being perfect. “I momentarily forgot about it in my quest to getmy daughter on the bus. I also never instructed the Uber driver to leave. That was something beyond my control.”
“Oh, so you thought he’d just sit here all day waiting on your orders?” He guffaws, throwing his head back, exposing a scar under his chin. It’s dark, running almost the length of his neck. It’s probably from some stupid fight since he clearly has a problem with his personality. “Figures, you’d think people just do whatever you want,” he mumbles under his breath. “All women are like that.”
“I never said that at all, and I’d appreciate it if you didn't overload your woman issues on me.”
His brow quirks, and he holds it, pausing as if he’s deciding if he should argue back when I clearly know the truth. After a beat, he yanks out his phone. “I need to get a hold of that Uber driver. Did you happen to catch his name so I can request him?”
“Uh.” I stare forward and refuse to answer. I don’t need to be told how much I suck for not catching his name. I’ve had a horrible morning. I’m lucky to remember my name.
“Figures,” he mutters when I don’t say anything.
“Look.” I hold up my phone, relieved I never stowed it in my purse. At least I have one thing to help me out. “I’ll call. I can give more information.”
“Suit yourself.” He drops his phone to his side. For the first time since we started engaging, he looks at the boy. “I guess, we missed the bus,” he explains in a much nicer tone than he used with me. “I don’t know where to take you. I don’t want to call your mom. I guess you can hang out with me today. I have practice in about an hour.”
I tune him out because I’m connected with someone with Uber. I take a minute to explain my situation. They locate the driver who gave me a ride. I hang up and blurt out, “My Uber is currently parked downtown in front of the barber shop. He can’t leave because he’s been paid to wait for Mrs. Blanchard toget her hair cut, but we can run over there.” I drop my gaze to the ground before I mumble, “If you want to give us a ride over there. That might be the quickest way to fix this.” I hate asking for favors, especially from Mr. Perfect, but it’s freezing out, and I don’t want to walk all the way down there, even if I had the time to waste.
“What are we waiting for?” He jerks his head toward the door, and I turn my gaze to Bella.
“See, this isn’t going to be so bad.” I put on the phony smile I’m getting so good at. “Can you hop in the back with Rick?”
“Rigsby,” Bella mumbles as her feet slide forward until we reach the car. I help her in the back seat. One thing about my life is that I never need to look for an opportunity to be humbled. Nope.
