He leans back. “Okay.”
“Do you think it’s possible for two people to build a stronger relationship the second time around?”
He considers the question. “If both partners are willing to work at it, yes. If only one is, then no. It’s a long, hard road to recover trust.”
My chest tightens at his honesty, but there’s hope there too. “Regardless,” I say carefully, “I’m glad I’m doing this for me.”
He smiles slightly. “That’s why you’ll change.”
I exhale, shoulders loosening. For once, the road ahead isn’t littered with recrimination and regret.
It’s glowing with opportunity.
We run into each other outside The Blue Plate Café after school. Literally. Amy’s arms are full of binders and her laptop is slung over her shoulder. She looks surprised—and pleased—to see me.
“Hungry?” I ask, unable to suppress the hopefulness in my voice.
Her smile lights my heart. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
We enter the diner and I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. After our plate of fries and drinks lands in frontof us, I decide to assuage a bit of curiosity. After chewing a fry, I mention, “So, at first people didn’t like me.”
“Should I apologize?”
“Nope. This is my shocked face.” We both crack up as I affect a serious mien. “But ever since that day in your class, I've been bombarded.”
She looks worried. “As in ‘Can I have your autograph?’”
“No. Most of it’s about you.”
“Really?”
“I’ve never gone into a hardware store?—”
“Had you before you moved here?” she teases.
“Cute. Still, I left with three opinions about zoning, a donation request for the youth center, and a dissertation about your teaching methods.”
She’s not even fazed by my words. Instead she asks, “What did you need?”
“I needed to get one of those S screwdrivers.”
I’m surprised you weren’t offered to be set up on a date.”
I left that part out and Amy knows it judging by the way she howls with laughter. “I’ve lived here most of my life and some things never change. Fortunately, Ms. Irene is one of them.”
“Like?” I take a sip of my drink.
“Ms. Irene offered to find me a date for my eighth-grade dance.”
I slap a hand over my mouth so I don't spit all over her. “Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
“Did you take her up on it?”
Amy rolls her eyes. “I did okay for myself.”
I shake my head as I absorb another nuance in small town life. Then I share, “The fire chief cornered me about the charity skate.”
