He lets out another of those soft chuckles. I love that sound, although it makes me wonder what a real laugh from him would sound like.
“I appreciate the offer, but the fresh air will do me good.” He begins backing away, and I’m seized with an odd sort of panic. He admitted he wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and now I can’t stand the thought of him walking away and leaving me wondering if this is it.
“Will I see you again?” I blurt.
Spencer pauses. He lowers his head, although not quickly enough for me to miss the almost pained expression that crosses his face. He recovers quickly, giving me a smile that only looks forced for a second before he says, “I’m sure you will. I was invited for tea and crumpets at the center, after all.”
I want to ask him when he thinks he might take Jordy up on her invitation, but I don’t want to come across as desperate or pushy. He could just be saying that to be nice. I aim for a light tone as I say, “Well, consider it an open invitation. I always have tea on hand, although I likely won’t ever have crumpets because I’ve never had them in my life. I expect Jordy hasn’t either, she probably just heard ‘tea and crumpets’ somewhere and ran with it. I always have some sort of treat hidden in my desk, though.”
Spencer’s lips twitch. “Good to know.” He resumes backing away. Part of me wants it to be his resistance to say goodbye. The other part of me is afraid he’s literally putting distance between us and waiting until it’s socially acceptable to turn and bolt. “Good night, Hollie. I’ll be seeing you.”
“Night, Spencer.” I open the car door and get inside so I don’t have to see the moment he turns away. Jordy lowers the volume of the music, then leans across me to wave as I close the door and start the car. By the time I pull out of my parking spot, Spencer is striding across the lot, hands jammed once more in the pockets of his coat.
“So?” Jordy says expectantly. “Did he ask you out?”
“Nope.”
“Didyouaskhimout?”
“Nope,” I repeat. She makes a quiet sound of disgust, and I know even without looking at her that she’s rolling her eyes. I don’t give her a chance to voice her opinion. “It’s not like that. We’re friends. Not even that, really, more like friendly.”
“Huh. Interesting.” When I shoot her a questioning glance, she gives a casual shrug. “It’s just that from whereIwas sitting, it looked like both of you wouldn’t mind beingmorethan friends.”
If Jordy were one of my girlfriends, I’d quiz her for details.Howdid Spencer look at me? Why does she think he might be interested in me? None of that matters, though. Even if Spencerwasinterested, he’s clearly not going to act on it. Besides, he wasn’t wrong yesterday when he said we both have a lot going on and it’s not the right time.
“Wait, don’t say it,” Jordy says, sparing me from having to come up with a response. “It’s complicated, right? That’s what adults always say.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Something like that.”
She huffs, waving a dismissive hand as she leans in to turn the music up again. I think she’s annoyed with me as she skips through songs until the opening chords of “Take a Chance on Me” by ABBA start and she doesn’t skip it. I dart my gaze in her direction, and she smiles.
“Thanks for today, Hollie.”
Her sincerity tugs at my heartstrings and melts away the remaining tension in my body. “Anytime, Jordy.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
That week, we have to move our weekly breakfast meet-up to Friday because Stella and Leland are going away for the weekend. I stumble into B&H just after seven o’clock, hair still slightly damp from the chilly wake-up shower I took, and right eye stinging from where I stabbed it with the mascara brush. I don’t typically start work until nine, so I’m usually still in bed at this time.
As the scent of coffee hits my nose, I remind myself the early morning will be worth it. Evie, Stella, Louisa, and I used to meet for breakfast nearly every Saturday or Sunday morning before Stella got married and moved to Toronto. We resurrected the tradition a few months ago after Stella moved back to Bellevue. As our group has expanded, first with Wesley, then Leland, and occasionally Fergus, the four of us agreed to meet early for coffee on the days the guys were joining us so we could catch up. I’ve loved each new addition to our group and I’m thrilled for Evie and Stella, but that time with just the four of us feels sacred somehow. I don’t know many people who have maintained a friendship for as long as we have.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Bea calls to me from across the room where she’s stringing colorful lights around the kitchen pass-through window. With Christmas being a month from today, it’s officially holiday season according to Bea, and the diner will likely be decorated to within an inch of its life by tonight.
“Morning.” My voice comes out sounding like a croak. A titter draws my attention to the two thirty-something women in the corner wearing running clothes and sipping on green smoothies, one of Horatio’s newest menu offerings to ‘keep up with the times’. I’ve seen them in the diner and jogging around the neighborhood, and have even spoken to them a few times. At their friendly grins, I give them a bashful shrug and smile combo in return. It won’t be light for another half hour, yet they’ve already done their morning run and are onto their ultra-healthy breakfast. I’m proud of myself for making it here fully dressed by seven, and I’m going to gobble a plate of Horatio’s delicious scrambled eggs, home fries, and turkey bacon. We all make our choices.
“Go sit with Lulu and I’ll bring you some coffee,” Bea says.
Louisa is almost always the first one here, no matter what time we meet. Her dad drilled things like punctuality and good manners into her at a young age; he was always strict, but he kicked it up about a thousand notches after Louisa’s mother died. Mrs. and Mr. Henshaw were a classic case of opposites attracting; she was free spirited and fun loving, while he was uptight, gruff, and an avid rule follower. They loved each other, though, and Louisa had a happy childhood until her mom got sick and died when we were fourteen. Her death changed Louisa and Mr. Henshaw, which is to be expected. He became even more authoritarian, afraid Louisa would get hurt or become ill, and Louisa withdrew and became timid, anxious, and even shyer than she was before.
“You’re staring at me,” Louisa says, shaking me from my thoughts. Without realizing it, I’ve crossed the room and I’m standing next to where she’s sitting.
“Sorry. And good morning.” I swoop down to kiss her cheek before dropping into the seat across from her. “Half asleep and lost in thought.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
Louisa and I talk about absolutely everything, but we tend to avoid the subject of our families. Our circumstances were very different—her mom died, while mine left, and we were both raised by our dads after that—but we both understand loss and spending our teen years in less-than-desirable circumstances.
“I was thinking about…about our parents,” I say, deciding there’s no use lying or avoiding the subject. Not with Louisa, not even if it’d be easier. “I stayed up too late last night going over my investments, trying to see how much I could free up to make a bigger donation than usual to the center before the holidays. You know how I get whenever I look at that money.”
