“Oh nothing.” He paused, scratching his beard back and forth. “I reckon I remember Stetson saying that exact same thing about you.”
He piqued my interest; one of my eyebrows dipped as the other raised.
“He mentioned something along the lines of ‘Scarlett made it sound so easy to make the right choice, it was like she didn’t even have to think about it. What I would’ve paid to see you have your way with Mark.’”
The flash of him and me in the recording studio for the first time resurfaced, but I crammed it down because now, standing here with George, wasnotthe time or the place.
“Yeah, but that’s different. His decisionwaseasy. He knew what choice to make; he just didn’t know if he wanted to make the hard one or the easy one,” I defended.
Now it was George’s turn to raise his eyebrows.
“Perspective, remember?” he asked. “To you, maybe it seemed easy. To Stetson, this decision could change his whole world. If he made the wrong one, or one that he thought might be wrong, everything could be different.”
“Dammit, George,” I huffed.
The huge smirk that strung across his face was confirmation that he knew he’d made his point.
“I guess I never looked at it that way.”
“Most people don’t take the time to see it from another angle.” He shrugged.
“Well, thanks for that. I really needed it. But now, I’ve got to get to work,” I said, raising my wrist and checking the time on my dainty gold watch.
He tipped his hat and threw a wink at me. “Anytime, darlin’. You know that.”
I turned on my feet and walked to my car, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. The tiny breath formed a cloud of warm air in front of my mouth as I stepped outside and headed to theTribune.
Chapter Eighteen
The sun pierced through the window perched behind my desk, ricocheting off the picture frame with Maggie and me smiling and back onto my computer. The sliver of sunlight reminded me we were getting closer and closer to springtime. Our days had grown longer, and the chill in the air was slowly fading.
We were two weeks into February and still no Stetson. Well, at least not physically; mentally, he was still very much around. But that was beside the point. All I knew was that it was kind of hard to write a piece on someone who wasn’t even around to interview or observe.
I swiped my phone from the desk.
Me:
I’m starting to wonder if Stetson’s ever going to come back. Maybe I should just tell Donna that this story is a bust and see if she’ll give me something else to work on. I’m over it.
Maggie:
No, you’re not.
Her abrupt response took me by surprise.
Maggie:
You’re just pissed because he’s not back yet and you’re only getting little snippets from him. You’re worried he’s going to turn out to be exactly the guy you thought he was.
Me:
I am not.
But she was right. That was exactly what I was worried about.
Maggie:
You are too. Just pick up the damn phone and call him. Blame it on Donna. Tell him she wants to know when he’ll be back so you can continue with the story.
