“How are you?”
Should have checked caller ID first.The last voice she’d expected to hear was Robert’s.
Why is he calling?“Working. Fine.”
“I thought once you cooled down, we could talk like adults. My offer is still open to come for the holidays.”
Like adults? Seriously?“No thank you.”
“You’re going to just spend it alone?”
“I don’t know, but that’s for me to figure out.”
“If you don’t figure it out soon, you’re going to die a lonely woman.”
“And if that was supposed to make me run back into your arms, you’re sadly mistaken. Merry Christmas, Robert.” She ended the call and blocked his number.
Die alone? This is my choice.
She scooted to the center of the aluminum bench seat. She tugged the scarf from around her neck and folded it before sitting down, but the metal was still cold through her pants. She hugged the cup. The soup didn’t look so special.In fact, it appeared to be more like a really, really thin New England clam chowder than any kind of stew. At least it was warm. She lifted a spoonful to her mouth and blew on it.
Around her almost everyone else had a cup of the steaming stew in their hands too.
When she took the first swallow, she took back every negative thought. “This is so good,” she said out loud to a woman coming up the stairs.
“Oh yeah. The best.” The stranger lifted her cup as if to sayCheers!and continued on.
The band played back-to-back songs until the cheerleaders ran out onto the field carrying a huge banner. A drumroll filled the air.
“WE ARE THE FALCONS,” the cheerleaders shouted.
A thunder of boys wearing blue and gold burst through the paper declaration of war against their opponents.
Vanessa bounced to her feet and cheered. The game started and everyone in the stands was participating. Enthusiastic waves of excitement were followed by monumental groans when the ref didn’t call it as they saw it.
In between plays, the band played and the cheerleaders danced on the asphalt track below. The mascot did his part too. Vanessa chair-danced to the music—able to recognize almost every single song from her days as a cheerleader.
A broad-shouldered man with dark hair jogged up the stairs wearing jeans and a half-zip emerald-green sweater, with a jacket clutched in one hand. He joined the group of parents seated in front of her.
As he settled in the bleachers, his arm brushed her leg. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” she responded, realizing he looked like theman with the horses. Were his eyes really as green as that sweater?
“Where do I know you from?” His smile was easy, his brows furrowing as he tried to remember. “You look familiar.”
“Do you have horses?” she asked.
The guy sitting next to him laughed. “Does he have horses? Oh yeah, he has horses.”
She ignored the comment. “I think I saw you on Main Street yesterday.”
He clicked his fingers. “In front of Porter’s. I remember now.”
“That was me.”
“I’m Mike.” He extended his hand.
She shook his hand, but he didn’t let go immediately.
