No answers.No justification.No anything.
I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, but…that’s it?All he has to offer is a confusing cacophony of nonsensical actions with absolutely no tangible motive or explanation whatsoever?Fine.If that’s the way he wants to play it, by sweeping everything under the rug and pretending as if nothing happened and he doesn’t have a heart, let alone a caring bone in his body, then so be it.
I shake off my thoughts, turn on my heel, and head back to Bryan, who was clearly watching the entire interaction like a detective with a magnifying glass.
Lovely.
When I reach him, he asks, “You good?”
Am I good?No.I’m confused and put off and… I don’t even know what I am.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie.
Standing on my toes, I kiss Bryan in the middle of the crowded cook-off.It’s nothing but a peck, and I’m not sure why I do it.Why the need to kiss him is so overwhelming.Maybe I do it to remind myself why I’m here in the first place.Who I’m with.Who I’m choosing.Here I am, kissing Fireman Bryan, the man who’s nothing but a solid match for me on paper.Yet, all I feel is…empty.
Bryan smiles against my mouth, and his hand snakes around my lower back.“You, June Withers, are quite the catch.”
I glance down at the red and white fire department logo on his chest, unsure how to respond.
“Come on,” he urges.“Let’s test out a few more flavors of chili.”
Chili.Right.
Forcing a smile, I peek up at him and splay my fingers above his heart.“Lead the way.”
20
JUNE
Most of the chili recipes are delicious.Seriously, I love the different combinations and how much creativity goes into every dish.All that’s missing is my sourdough.Quasimodough would take these recipes to the next level.Honestly, the food has been a pretty solid distraction from all things Ford, and I’m not complaining.Even so, I haven’t seen him for at least an hour.I hate how I notice his absence.I glance around the tents scattered throughout despite my best effort, but I can't help it.Did he leave with her?The girl?Does it matter?
No.No, it does not.
The tents are set up in a large circle.Each one sports a different batch of chili so people can simply start in one direction, testing and tasting and rating until winding up right back where they started.When I catch the familiar sign highlighting the chili Ford labeled as mine, my shoulders deflate ever so slightly.I guess this is it.No more chili.No more potential sightings of Ford.The thought hits me before I can stop it.
Seriously, June?
“No way,” Bryan mutters beside me.He spent the last hour introducing me to dozens of people until they were nothing but a sea of faces.Nice faces.Polite faces.But could I pick any of them out of a lineup?Probably not.I’d like to tell myself it’s because there have been so many, but a tiny voice inside of me can’t help but wonder if the real reason is because I’ve been distracted by the lack of presence from a certain someone who took care of me last night.
“He actually came,” Bryan reveals.His tone is nothing short of awe as he drags me back to the present.
“Who?”I follow Bryan’s line of sight and frown.An older gentleman with a solid physique in a button-up, with a gray peacoat and slacks, stands a tent away.He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.“Who’s that?”I finally ask.
“Titas Harden.”
“Harden?”The word comes out as a squeak as I piece together why the stranger looks familiar.The auction.He was sitting at Ford’s table.Thanks to the stage lighting, my nerves, and the curveball Ford threw in front of everyone, I was a bit preoccupied that evening.But now that Bryan has mentioned it, I most definitely recognize the guy.
“Yeah, we met at the auction,” Bryan explains.“Seems like a really nice guy.”
Nice guy?From what I’ve been told, he’s the furthest thing from it.
“What’s he doing here?”I ask.
He’s coming this way.Why would he be coming this way?
“You think I should talk to him?”Bryan asks, distracted.“Maybe thank him for coming?”
“What do you mean, thank him for coming?”
