“But your brother is solo. Well, divorced, so he once wasn’t, I guess. Rosie is cool, we hung out quite a bit and still stay in touch. She’s the kind of person you could pick up with right where you left off. A shame they didn’t work out, they’re good for one another.”
“She was younger and wanted to explore the world. Plus, we can’t always have what’s good for us.” You underneath me, for one.
“True.”
Hailey smiles. “Your mother is so sweet. Nancy always looks out of this world, no hair out of place. Insistent that I come over even though I never do.”
“She’s crazy about you.” It only adds more oil to the fire because the reasons that Hailey should be mine seem to mount.
“What’s not to like?” She splays her hands out, and I couldn’t agree more. “A shame your parents can’t be there for the wedding.”
That is also true. Despite the sentiments they make me feel sometimes, they are good people.
“Yeah, my dad has some engagement at his old grad school where he is speaking, and my mother is going with. She already picked out an overpriced toaster to send to Liam and Ava as a gift.”
Hailey shimmies in the seat to get comfortable, and she grows quiet while she begins to study her map and examines her book that already has a few post-its sticking out.
I’m still entertained every time I steal a glance at her book. “You randomly had this travel book lying around?”
“Actually, yeah. For years.”
Lines form on my forehead. “And you had time to bookmark?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“And yet you have this energy.”
I quickly glance to her as she throws me a wicked look. “That’s just me.” She winks at me.
The next three hours we go back and forth in conversation. At times, she rests a little bit and admires the cornfields. Other times, we make chit-chat.
I take a look at the clock and my arms feeling tired inform me that it’s time. “We should stop for a break. Stretch a bit,” I suggest.
Enthusiasm takes over her, and she is quick to grab her travel supplies and begin to search with her pointer finger. “Perfect. We’re on the Old Lincoln Highway, and there are so many fun little places to stop along the road. The signs say our next stop is ten miles from here, and there is a stop where they make buttermilk soap.”
“Sounds good.” I wish I could slap my brain because I just imagined lathering her up with the damn soap bar.
And next thing I know, we’re walking around a store with various knickknacks. Bottles of honey on one wall, woven blankets on another, a whole section of cornmeal in jars. This is all kinds of random but nobody walking outside seemed to be complaining about the slow-churned ice cream shakes with straws in their hands.
I continually tilt my head to examine items. Currently, the milk soap with a picture of a cow with a bell on it holds my attention. That is until I notice Hailey up ahead with a blissful radiant glow as she touches the wind chimes and the sound floats through the air.
Sauntering to her, I admire her peaceful state in the process.
“I love wind chimes. The wind reminds us of a shift of energy, good or bad. I like to think that it sweeps in luck,” she notes as we come face to face.
Why does she have to be so beautiful right now? Her eyes bright, her cheeks high due to her smile, and a loose lock of hair nearly brushing against her brow.
My finger darts out to touch her silky hair and tuck the loose lock behind her ear. It’s when she nuzzles her cheek into my palm that I realize what I did, but I’m not backing away. Partly because her gaze has chained me down with a hint of whimsy in her eyes. Neither one of us moves, and she’s right. There is a shift in the air, and it doesn’t scare me.
Am I stealing a moment to touch her? Is this my sign that I should say fuck it to any code of honor? Or am I making a mistake?
Her lips taunt me, but I’m in a pioneer store in the middle of who knows where with an old lady behind the cash register observes us.
All I offer Hailey is the barest of smiles, and she returns it with her own. One last caress of her cheek and my hand falls away. Clearing my throat as I step back, I focus on the chimes in front of us.
“Help me pick one,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
