She jerks back in her seat. “How did you––”
“You told me last night.”
She presses her palm to her forehead. “Shit. Yeah, I remember very little after that second martini you made me.”
“That’s okay. You were mostly giggling, dancing in your seat, and telling me how incredible your daughter is.”
Her smile is wide as she nods. “She’s the best.”
The rest of the drive back to the bar is quiet, so I turn up the radio when Alanis Morrisette’s “You Learn” comes on and hum along with it. Normally, I’d sing, but I’m no Grammy winner, and I’m sure Lindsay’s head hurts as it is. No reason to add to her pain.
“I love this song,” she says quietly, her head leaning against the window.
“They don’t make `em like Alanis anymore,” I reply in agreement.
“Oh yeah? Is she one of your favorites?”
I scoff. “Of course. Along with many of her peers from the nineties.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, same. That particular period of rock seems to get better with time.”
“That’s for damn sure.”
I feel her eyes linger on me for several moments before returning to the passing trees, their remaining leaves desperately clinging to the branches. The chill in the air is getting sharper, indicating fall has one foot out the door and winter is moments from blasting onto the scene. My mind immediately ponders when the first snow will arrive, how many storms we’ll get this season, and how that’ll impact Lindsay’s ability to come visit. If she even wants to.
She lives in Boston, a two-hour drive from Mapletown without traffic. Her best friend lives here, but how often would she want to escape her everyday life in the dead of winter to come see her? I swallow the hard lump forming in my throat.
Is this the last time I’ll see her?
No.
It can’t be.
There are too many things I still want to say. So much I don’t know about her life from the day we kissed up to now. She doesn’t know we’ve met before. Will I get the chance to tell her?
As I pull onto the gravel of Fast Glass Tavern’s parking lot, I spot Lindsay’s phone resting on the console between our knees. Before I stop myself, I swerve hard to the right before pulling into the spot closest to the door.
“Whoopsie daisy,” I say with an innocent grin, as her phone slides off the console and lands next to my ankle.
Lindsay’s eyes are wide as she brushes the long, silky strands of hair off her face.
“Keep forgetting to fill that pothole.”
“It’s fine.” She grabs her purse and opens the passenger door, giving me just enough time to do what I should’ve done while she was asleep.
I walk her to her car, nerves pumping through my blood as I figure out how the hell I’m supposed to let her drive away without knowing when I’ll see her again, when the squeaky brakes of an old sedan fill the brisk morning air.
It’s Camilla, and I can see her daughter’s wild curls flying around her head in the passenger seat. Why would she be here more than two hours before we open? Camilla stops next to where we’re standing and rolls down the passenger window.
“Hi, Dom, I’m so sorry to do this, but would you mind watching Rocío and Hugo for an hour?” Camilla asks with a panicked frown tugging at her lips. “I have a coven meeting and Morty got called into work at the hospital.”
“Yeah, of course,” I tell her, silently going through the tasks I need to finish before we open. I’ve watched the kids before, and they mostly keep to themselves as they sit at the bar, especially Hugo. I feed them as much soda and pretzels as they want, begging them to downplay the quantity to their mother. “I have a delivery coming in an hour, but otherwise, I’ll just be doing prep.”
“That’s okay. Ro has homework to finish, and Hugo has his sensory bin, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I wave dismissively. “Bah, take your time. Me and the kiddos will be just fine.”
“You are an angel, Dominic!” She smiles widely and waves at Lindsay before pulling away to park a few spots down.
