My cooking skills are limited. I try to eat healthy, but a lot of my diet includes frozen meals and takeout. Adding anew restaurant to my weekly rotation is a good thing. Carson regularly pity invites me to his farm for a home-cooked meal and sends home leftovers every time. I’m not going hungry.
“Well, I appreciate you sharing with me.” She peers up from under her long bangs and gives me a sheepish grin. “And for the ride home. Sorry I gave you a hard time.”
Before I can respond, she asks, “Do you think my car will be okay there until I can figure out how to get it towed?”
“I already took care of it,” I say as I fill my plate.
“What do you mean?” She tilts her head and scrunches her forehead. “When?”
“I texted Dillon while you were changing. He said he would pick it up tonight.”
Biting her lip, she hesitates a moment before saying, “You didn’t have to do that but thank you. I’ll have to hitch a ride with Aunt Maggie until I can figure out getting it fixed.”
“Doesn’t she go into town at, like, four thirty in the morning to bake?” Maggie has kitchen and counter staff that work during the day at her bakery, but I know she likes to do the baking herself.
She grimaces before saying, “Beggars can’t be choosers. A ride is a ride. Maybe I will brush up on my kitchen skills.” We make eye contact and chuckle.
“Sure, you can,” I snicker, shaking my head. It’s common knowledge among our friends that Beck is almost as hopeless in the kitchen as I am.
“I’ll pick you up,” I volunteer before I can think about what I am offering. For someone who has been trying to keep his distance from her for years, I’m sure throwing myself in her path a lot today.
“No.” She furrows her brow and shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a problem. I drive right past your driveway. Does eight a.m. work for you? It will give me a chance to stop and get a coffee before I head into the office.”
She thinks for a moment before saying, “It definitely beats four thirty. I’ve never willingly gotten up that early. Thanks, Ryan.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes before I ask, “So tell me why you’re living in an Airstream outside your aunt’s house.”
She remains quiet, moving food around her plate. I think she isn’t going to answer when she says, “If I tell you, do you think you can turn off your therapist brain for a minute?”
“It’s the same brain, Beck,” I say, glancing up at her as I continue to eat.
“You know what I mean. I don’t need you to psychoanalyze me.” She sighs loudly before she takes another bite.
“I don’t do that,” I deny. She narrows her eyes at me, holding her fork mid-air. “Okay, I agree.”
“Earlier this year, I bought a new truck and this trailer so Braden and I could travel to the West Coast. It was supposed to be an adventure. Lots of tattoo artists go on the road and host mobile pop-up studios. It looks like a blast, and I’ve always wanted to explore the country. Considering I have lived in Canada full-time for over a decade, I really haven’t seen much of it. Anyway,”—she waves a dismissive hand in the air before continuing—“this was my opportunity to do that and meet new people.”
“That sounds like fun.” I sometimes forget Beck has dual citizenship and moved to Emerley around the same time as I did. Possibly because she was barely twenty, and I was already in my thirties trying to start over.
“I thought so.” She takes a drink from her water bottle before continuing. “I have a large social media following and knew that finding clients wouldn’t be difficult. Some people were beggingme to travel east instead of west. Banks encouraged me to go because it was such a terrific opportunity to build my portfolio. He said that my chair would still be here for me when I got back. We stripped the trailer down to the ribs, replaced the wiring, plumbing, gas lines, and insulation. Then we did the fun things like new flooring, paint, cabinets, and decorating.” She smiles, clearly proud of her accomplishment.
“You and Braden did all the work together? That’s impressive.”
“God, no,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “Carson helped with the demo, and Riot helped with the rebuild. Braden wanted the adventure and the opportunity to get out of Emerley, but he did none of the work to make it possible. That right there should have been a giant red flag. Anyway, he was ‘between jobs,’”—she uses her fingers to air quote—“and had nothing holding him here. He assured me he could pick up odd jobs as a day labourer along the way to offset our expenses. Imagine my surprise when I found out Braden had more than odd jobs planned for our trip.”
“What do you mean?” I stop eating and put my fork down.
Sighing loudly, she closes her eyes and raises her head towards the ceiling before meeting my eyes again. “I bought a new iPad so I could work on tattoo designs while we were driving. When I set it up, I had immediate access to our shared iCloud. I discovered he was making plans to meet a woman he had been talking to online who lives in Alberta. Their text messages made it very clear that they were going to be meeting up for more than coffee. He denied everything, of course. Told me I was making a big deal out of nothing. They were just friends, and I was crazy. He basically gaslit me even though my eyes work fine and I had digital evidence right in front of me.”
“I’m so sorry that happened, Beck.” What an idiot. She may not be right for me, but that guy’s a complete moron if he doesn’t know what he had with a woman like her.
“Yeah.” She lifts both shoulders. “So, that was the final straw. I ended our relationship for good this time and cancelled my cross-country adventure. He threatened to leave without me, but I reminded him who actually owned the truck and trailer. Told him I would report it stolen if he tried to take them out of the county. He wasn’t happy about that.” She pauses briefly before saying, “Anyway, I had Riot tow the trailer here. I could live in the house with Maggie, but I’m okay out here. For now.”
Before I can think of what to say, she asks, “Did you hear Mrs. Wilson has been pushing her old cat in a baby stroller all over town? Rumour has it she’s not very steady on her feet and needs one of those rolling walkers, but she’s too stubborn to get one. Can you imagine?”
There she goes again, changing the subject to shut down the conversation. Rubbing my jaw with one hand, I say, “There is very little that surprises me in Emerley.”
