He stops outside the office door. “I hope it’s okay I’m here,” he says. “Fergus texted me and asked if I’d like to come to breakfast. I’m not able to stay, but I felt compelled to at least come in for a coffee and say hello. Part of me knew I shouldn’t, but I wanted to see you again.”
The somersaults my stomach did at the sight of Spencer turn into a whole gymnastics routine.
“All of you,” he adds quickly. “I wanted to seeallof you again. I enjoyed meeting everyone at your birthday tea.”
“Oh. Right.” I nod my head, likely looking like one of Stella’s bobblehead Funko Pops. “I’m glad you came then.”
“I…I must admit, I’ve thought a lot about you this week, Hollie. I enjoyed our time together on Monday and then it felt like kismet running into you the very next day.”
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot too,” I tell him. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after I deleted LoveLinks, and then there you were, not once but twice.”
“Yes, exactly.” His enthusiastic tone makes hope surge inside me. “I know we agreed we both have a lot going on in our lives and probably shouldn’t pursue anything, but…”
My breath catches and holds when he pauses. Spencer hasn’t even been here for five minutes and I feel like I’m on an emotional roller coaster.
“Well, I think we should be friends,” he says. “Spend some time together, get to know each other better. This way we could be in each other’s lives without the pressure and expectations of attempting to date. What do you think?”
The breath I’ve been holding rushes out of me. It’s so loud, I fake a cough to cover it, nodding forcefully as I do. “Yes, yes, friends would be great. What a great idea. That’s…”
“Great?” His teasing smile makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Yes, great. Who doesn’t need more friends, right?”
He doesn’t seem to pick up on the hint of sarcasm in my tone because his expression turns solemn and he nods. “My thoughts exactly. Most of the people I know in Bellevue are colleagues. Fergus and I are friends, but we don’t spend much time together. With everything going on in my life lately, I’m afraid of how present I’ll be and how much of myself I could offer to someone. And yet, if I’m honest, I couldreallyuse a friend.”
His words tug on my heartstrings. My insides are sure getting a workout today. I like Spencer, but it’s hard not to think of him as a romantic prospect since that’s how we met. I know the importance of having good friends, though. If that’s what Spencer needs right now and if friendship is all he’s able to offer, I can be that for him.
“Friends it is, then,” I say.
“Wonderful. I was thinking since our previous meetings have involved us being thrown together by friends and kismet, perhaps we should plan something. Spend some time together on purpose.”
I laugh. “Spending time together on purpose sounds good.”
“Good. And perhaps…well, perhaps it could be just the two of us for a change.”
I try to ignore the excitement that bubbles inside my chest. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” he says again, then with a twinkle in his eyes, adds, “Or should I say ‘great’? I’ll call you?” He offers me his phone and I put my number in before sending myself a text so I have his number too.
He steps forward and, for a second, I think he’s going to hug me. Instead, he grips my shoulder briefly and then says he’ll go say goodbye to the others and order a coffee to go. I’m frozen in place as he moves past me. Needing a moment to collect myself, I remain where I am, watching him speak to my friends.
As he heads for the front counter, I wonder if he’ll really call. What would it be like being friends with Spencer? What if that friendship eventually turns into something more? While I won’t hold my breath waiting for him to call, I’ll do my best not to close myself off either. To be open to possibilities. As Bea would say, this is the season of miracles, after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After a busy week at the center, Ishouldhave taken Sunday to relax at home. It would have been nice to spend a day in my pajamas, with my feet up while I watch TV, read, and maybe even order food so I didn’t have to cook.
Instead, I’ve spent most of the day volunteering at the center. I stopped in yesterday while I was out running errands and was informed by my staff that the volunteers who were supposed to assemble this week’s food boxes hadn’t shown up, so I offered to come in today. Evie and Louisa were able to help for an hour or so this morning, and Jordy arrived a while ago and told me to put her to work.
I add the last item to the box I’ve been working on and set it aside. I’ve just whipped out my trusty tape dispenser in preparation for assembling the next box when Jordy swings by and thrusts my reusable water bottle at me.
“Did I leave this somewhere?” I ask.
“No, I came by and took it to refill it. You were so in the zone, you didn’t even notice. Now, hydrate.” And with that command, she strides back to her station a few feet away.
I call out a thank-you as I unscrew the cap. I intend to sip the water but end up chugging half the bottle. The warehouse is stuffy, and assembling the boxes is hard work. It’s not usually such dirty work, but without the volunteers who normally deal with unpacking the crates of food, moving things around the warehouse, and assembling the flattened boxes, it’s been left to just the few of us, along with everything else.
I go to brush the sweaty hair off my face, but stop when I notice how filthy my hand is. I use my forearm instead, even though my sleeve is almost as dirty. I bet I have smudges of dust and dirt on my face, and I can imagine the halo of frizz surrounding my head.
