Don’t get me wrong, I love the life I live.
I have amazing friends and family and have traveled the world at a whim.
Now, instead of working for a corporate conglomerate, I’m an independent contractor. As long as there is internet, I can essentially work from anywhere in the world, and nothing ties me down.
That is, until my dad had his health scare last year.
I immediately returned to Seaside and have been here ever since. Sure, I still travel now and then, but this small town has once again become my home base.
With my siblings having families of their own, the flexibility of my schedule allows me to be there for my parents when they need it most. Between doctor appointments, physical therapy, cooking meals, and being here for emotional support, who knew parenting your parents could be more difficult than climbing a corporate career?
Thankfully, Dad has bounced back and is making a full recovery.
As I look out my window to the house next door, Mark’s parting words slice through my heart for the millionth time.
“I’m not letting you ghost me again.”
His tone was jovial, and the twinkle in his eye was his tell for an attempt to be lighthearted—some things never change. However, his directness hit just as hard. Mark’s never been one to mince words, and despite ghosting not even being a thing when it happened, it is, in fact, what I did.
As my eyes roam the two-story craftsman-style house next door, I can tell that in the time I’ve been away, Mark has made some upgrades. Not only is there a fresh coat of paint, but it looks as if he’s replaced all the windows and created an enclosed porch with a custom gate.
Does he have pets?
Is he still in the Air Force?
Maybe he’s finally retired.
What does it mean that he’s returned to Seaside?
I still can’t believe Mark, of all people, moved in next door without me knowing.
Millions of questions fly through my mind as I stare at the house next door. He’s made that charming rental house into a home. Does this mean he’s in Seaside for good?
A loud knock at my door jolts me out of my reverie and makes my heart race.
It’s seven in the morning; who would be here at this time of day?
Uh… You saw Mark much earlier than this yesterday, I chastely remind myself as I run a hand through my hair and bolt toward the door.
Breathless, I rush to the entry. Pausing for the briefest of moments, I compose myself before eagerly swinging the door open.
Only to be met by no one.
What the hell?
That’s when I hear the distinct sound of a delivery truck door rolling before slamming shut from the street, and my heart sinks.
Looking at my feet, I finally see the package laying on the porch.
Chuckling to myself, I bend to retrieve it, then look around to see if anyone witnessed me acting the fool.
Thank God, I get to keep this incident to myself.
“That’s what you get for being so worked up over that man,” I muse at myself before returning to my morning coffee.
My body vibrates from that short burst of adrenaline, and it’s obvious coffee is the last thing I need. Just the thought of Mark is enough to make me wired. If I finish this cup, I’ll be jumping at every sound I hear.
Taking my mug to the kitchen, I dump the rest in the sink, rinse it out, and put it in the dishwasher.
