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“I’m guessing you actually do know what you’re doing. You must have worked hard to get where you are, right?”
“Well, I”—he paused—“I guess so.”
“See?” Arden grinned encouragingly.
“It’s nothing,” Sam said. “My older brother is a CFO.”
Arden changed tack, pointing at Sam’s phone. “And this company needs you to work Christmas weekend?”
Now it was his turn to give her a blank look. “What? The call earlier? No. That was my mom.”
Arden blinked.
They made a valiant effort to keep the conversation going. When the buzzing of Arden’s phone interrupted their small talk, her heart sank when she saw the name Principal Blake flashing.
“Everything okay?” Sam asked.
“Um… yeah.” Arden dismissed the call. “Everything’s fine. But I should get going.”
She felt a sudden urge to curl up on the couch and cry. Again. She wanted to be alone to get herself out of this funk. But she also didn’t want to lose sight of her goals. She’d embarked on this trip with an image in her mind of the version of Arden she wanted to be. Someone confident in herself and happy to be alone. She should be proud of the day she’d had so far—not only had she walked three miles early in the morning, she had also had a nice conversation with a handsome stranger. So some self-doubt had started to creep in during the conversation. And so it had been interrupted by negative feelings at seeing the name Principal Blake appear on her phone. She shouldn’t let that ruin her successes, right? She just had to carry on and focus on her list. Maybe after she spent a couple hours on the couch.
Outside, she was disoriented by an unexpected brightness. Is this… sun? She blinked up at the clear sky.
“The rain stopped,” she said.
“Would you look at that.” Sam pulled a blue beanie over his hair. “We might get that snow after all.”
“Snow? Really?” Arden felt her heart lift a tiny bit at the thought.
“That would be a treat for a Florida girl, huh?” Sam put his hands in his pockets. “I know you’re only here for a little while, but if you wanted to—”
Arden bit her lip. Heart pounding at the risk of being rude, she cut him off: “Thank you for the hot chocolate, Sam. It was nice to meet you.”
“Oh.” He rocked backward on his heels. “Sure. It was great meeting you, too.”
“Happy holidays.”
“You too.”
Arden turned and walked away in the direction of Phoebe’s apartment. Peter had left her a voicemail, and it took all of her self-control not to listen to it right away.
She wished she hadn’t listened at all.
Peter’s voicemail was everything Arden was trying to get away from. It started with a question about why she hadn’t been at the holiday party. “I’m worried about you. Are you okay?” Then he launched into a story about the dinner with his ex-wife, laced with complaints and heavy sighs and “you wouldn’t believe some of the accusations she made.” This was immediately followed by “Anyway, it’s looking likely that we’ll give it another go.” He finished with “Merry Christmas, Arden. Miss you.”
Frustratingly, the tears wouldn’t come. Arden tried curling into a fetal position on the couch, pacing the shining living room hardwood floor, and screaming into a throw pillow. But no tears. Instead, she felt like a knot was tying itself tighter and tighter inside her chest.
Why did Peter have to call? And why had she gotten so in her head during the conversation with Sam? He was cute, polite, and funny. But Arden’s vibe had just been off. Maybe it was because she wasn’t meant to flirt with, let alone date, anyone. Maybe she was meant to be single. That would explain a lot. And if she could just accept it, maybe she would find some peace.
She stood at the window, staring down at the frigid Seattle streets. What was she doing here?
She composed a text message to Phoebe, her breath sharp and shallow: I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
Phoebe responded immediately: Do what?
Arden wrote, My list. The house swap. I need to go home.
She blinked, her eyes still dry and stinging. Going home was a terrible idea, because then she would contact Peter. No matter how she was feeling, she knew she shouldn’t do that.
