“Well, we should get to sleep. I can’t wait for Saturday. I’m sure you’ll love to run around and have fun on the farm.”
Ginger barked at him.
“You know, I am happy, but I still feel something is missing. I’m sure I’ll meet someone one day when I’m not expecting it. That’s how it works, right?”
Ginger cocked her head.
“They could be right under my nose, and I’d never know it.”
Bernard ignored the comment. The last time he got his hopes up was with Sean. He’d had one date with Sean a year ago, and it didn’t work out. Sean wasn’t to blame for what happened. It was a miscommunication on Bernard’s part. Right now, he needed to focus on himself. He had to figure out his life before he could share it with someone.
Chapter Four
Bernard
Saturday, April 18
BERNARD AVOIDED LIQUIDPearl the entire week. He and Sarah sang along with the radio on the drive to work. He walked Ginger after work every day. Ginger played at the dog park while he read.
The phone rang Saturday morning as Bernard finished the dishes.
“Hello?”
“Hey, son,” his dad spoke in Portuguese.
“Hi, Dad. How are you this morning?” Bernard replied in Portuguese.
“Doing all right. I wondered if you could pick up a few things on your way out here for the barbecue?”
“Sure thing. What do you need?” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.
“Two bags of ice, twenty pounds if you can get them, and some soda. Any type, just grab three twelve-packs.”
“Not a problem. I will grab those and be there around noon.”
“Thanks, son. See you soon. Love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
*
BERNARD PULLED INTOhis dad’s driveway at noon. Dust enveloped his truck on the dirt road. His dad lived alone on two acres of land. He had a three-bedroom farmhouse with a small barn. The farm housed chickens, a few milking goats, and a Queensland heeler named Bonnie. His dad also had a stubborn ram who disliked everyone except his dad and Ginger.
Bernard parked and let Ginger out to run. She made a beeline for Bonnie. Bernard lifted the cooler out of the bed of his truck.
“Long time no see, Bernard,” a voice called out from behind him.
Bernard turned around. A man taller and stockier than him strolled up the dirt path. His short chestnut hair danced in the breeze. His jeans and T-shirt hugged his curves.
“Rory Sinclair.” Bernard put his cooler down and hugged him. “It’s been way too long, my friend.”
His soft beard rubbed against Bernard’s cheek.
Bernard’s heart skipped a beat. The hint of Rory’s cologne took him back in time. They were teenagers again, hanging out in the food court at the mall. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent. Rory’s cologne was the only brand that didn’t make him nauseous.
“It’s good to see you, Bernard.” Rory broke the hug. His family moved from Scotland when he was ten and he still held a subtle Scottish accent.
“You as well,” Bernard said. “How are you doing?”
