“Great, now that you’ve called.”
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“Guess who the new head nurse at Boston General is?” I blink, my brain scrambling to keep up. “Wait, Aunt Cathy... Are you saying?”
“Yes! I’m moving to Boston! If my house sells in the next two weeks, I’ll be there even sooner.”
***
Weeks pass: I almost believe I’m just one of the nameless many who crossed Cyan’s path. Until the next package arrives on my doorstep. Opening it, I find an ivory box with a black ribbon bow. Inside, a gold chain with a single pearl pendant. No card, no explanation, but I don’t need one; it’s from him. I shove the chain back into the box and bury it in my dresser drawer.
Another month, another delivery. Perfume this time, my favorite scent, hibiscus and coconut, blooms through the air as soon as I unseal the cap, and my throat tightens. The next month, a sleek and expensive smartwatch. The kind that tracks heart rate, sleep patterns, steps.
Tonight, the newest package waits on my bed. I don’t want to open it, but I do. Inside lies an antique ledger. Leather cracked with age, pages yellowed and thin. Inked entries: 1838, 1839, and 1840. My fingers trace the elegant script, the looping letters fading into brown. My laugh comes out brittle. What is he telling me with this one? That history is his? That I’m part of some ledger entry I don’t understand yet? Everyone of these gifts feels like Cyan sending the message.I haven’t forgotten you.
After that gift, I find it so hard to pretend I’m okay. On one of her weekend visits, Aunt Cathy notices. She sees how I flinch at shadows, and how sometimes I’m staring off into nowhere. She pays Pauline to cover the following four-day weekend and insists I visit her in Boston. “Fresh air, new faces,” she says.
That’s how I find myself at a backyard barbecue, pretending I belong, pretending I’m not still waiting for the next package to arrive.
Cathy all but shoves me forward. “Hello there, Ethan.” Her smile is wide, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d like you to meet my niece, Aria.”
“Nice to meet you, Aria.” He offers his hand.
I take it. “Nice to meet you, too, Ethan.”
Aunt Cathy doesn’t even pretend to be subtle. “Oh, look! I see Georgia. I’ll be right back!” And just like that, she’s gone. Yep, this was planned.
Ethan laughs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, running a hand through his hair. “So... did we just get set up?”
“Oh, definitely.” I cross my arms. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to entertain me to appease my aunt.”
“But what if I want to?” His lips twitch into a half-smile. Then, as if realizing he’s come on too strong, he runs a hand through his curls again, laughing a little nervously. “Wow. That was smooth. Hope I didn’t just fumble my first impression.” He’s cute in a nervous, boy-next-door way. And yet, somehow, my brain’s still rerouting to a man whose eyes could set fire to sanity. I should probably call a psychologist. Or just admit I’m developing Stockholm syndrome and save the copay.
“Aria?”
I blink. “Huh?”
“You totally just spaced out. Are you already shutting me down?”
“What? No!”
“You had that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not interested’ look. Trust me, I’ve seen it plenty of times.”
I laugh, unable to help myself. “I was going to. Maybe not in those exact words.”
Ethan shifts closer. The movement pulls the fabric of his postal-blue polo across his arms, flexing. “See? I knew it. Tell you what, I won’t ask you out until the end of this party. Give me a chance to prove I’m worth your time. In the worst-case scenario, my ego gets bruised. Best case? My gym gains finally pay off.” If I say no now, Cathy will press harder. I can go out with him, keep it casual, and never see him again. That should buy me a few months of peace from her matchmaking, and Cyan wouldn’t find out—it’s just one date.
“Okay. You have a deal, Ethan.”
His smile lights up his entire face. “Great.” We fall into easy conversation.
“So, why personal training? Please don’t tell me you’re a health nut. That’d be a major strike against you.”
