She laughs, and we drift past a stand selling homemade bug repellent that smells of pine and lavender.
I'm reaching for akanelbullarat the bakery stall when Beth freezes mid-stride and grabs my arm.
"Oh!" Her eyes go wide. "There's Aiden! And—yes! Chevy’s with him." She's practically vibrating. "Cam, this might finally be it."
I open my mouth to respond, but my phone rings. I glance at the screen.
I hold up a finger to Beth. "Sorry, I have to take this. It's Javi."
"Are you kidding me right now," she mutters, but waves me off.
I step away from the crowd and answer.
Javi wants to swap again next weekend due to a work training in Billings. We go back and forth on logistics for Simon. The call takes seven minutes, which in co-parenting time is practically a summit negotiation.
By the time I hang up and find Beth again, she's standing alone with the goat cheese, looking defeated.
"They left," she says. "They got called into the station. I swear the universe is conspiring against this introduction."
"Beth, I'm sorry?—"
"Don't apologize. It's fine. It's cosmically hilarious at this point." She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "One day, Camille. One day I will get you two in the same room, even if I have to orchestrate a kidnapping."
"That's illegal."
"I know people."
“You do not.”
She huffs. “Fine. Aiden knows people.”
I laugh, but honestly, I'm barely registering the missed introduction since my phone just buzzed in my pocket and I already know who it is. I sneak a glance while Beth's paying for her cheese.
Wild@Heart:Good morning, trouble. How's your Saturday going?
The grin that spreads across my face is enormous and thank god Beth's back is turned, because she’d know something was up if she saw me.
I tuck the phone away and follow Beth back to the bakery stand, feeling lighter than I have all week.
But later that night, the exhaustion finally hits mehard.
Even with the farmers market and Beth's company, the weight of the week is still sitting on me. Simon barely spoke to me at dinner (he was not happy about his dad switching weekends again) and there’s a pile of grading that seemed to reproduce when I wasn't looking.
By the time I crawl into bed, I’m still in my clothes from the day—jeans, a flowy top that smells like goat cheese and lavender, and flats I keep thinking about chucking, but then realize I don’t have replacements.
I just don't have the energy to change and I fall onto the mattress starfish-style and pick up my phone.
Cursive&Caffeine:I'm so tired I might actually be dead. If I stop responding, send help. Or wine. Preferably wine.
Wild@Heart:Bad day?
Cursive&Caffeine:Bad week. I'm lying in bed fully dressed including my shoes because taking them off is too much effort. That's where I'm at.
Wild@Heart:You're still wearing your shoes?
Cursive&Caffeine:Yeah, I know. No judging.
Wild@Heart:I'm not judging. I'm thinking about how, if I were there, the first thing I'd do is take them off for you.
