18
A warm front arrives with tea and a new gray hair
Sawyer said we couldstill be friends, but he lied.
I haven’t seen him in four days.
Actually, that isn’tquitetrue. I saw him. Avoiding me at the grocery store. Standing next to Cain outside the bar with his eyes down, hands stuffed in his pockets, pretending I didn’t exist when I walked past on the other side of the street.
I slump in my chair behind the reception desk. The sound of the TV is a constant bark of loud infomercials, and I can’t focus on the mountain of filing I need to finish before lunch. Even the drawing that a little girl proudly stretches onto her tiptoes to show me over the desk doesn’t keep a smile on my face for long.
I’m miserable.
Last night, at the community center, Kristen sniffed blood in the water. Her beady blue eyes zeroed in on the awkward hello that Sawyer and I barely stammered through, and she torpedoed through the crowd to stake her claim. He tried distancinghimself by putting a wide step between the two of them after she put her hand on his back, but that didn’t slow her down.
“We’ve got so much to finalize before the festival starts tomorrow,” she said to him. “Let me help you.”
Help.
Sure.
She helped herself to the sandwiches and beers I brought, then stood with one hip cocked, smiling up at Sawyer as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger like a bashful teenager. Revolting. He tolerated her obnoxious jokes, but he declined her invitation to have a drink… Or so I thought.
“That man.” Kristen sighed into the restroom mirror when she reapplied her lipstick. “I can’t wait to show him off at the bar. It’s about time he came to his senses and noticed me.”
Did he, though? I crushed the paper towel in my fist. “He said he was busy.”
“Oh, honey.” She patted my arm. “He didn’t want to hurt your feelings. We’ve all noticed that you’re a littleattachedto him.”
“I always thought you were interested in Luke,” I grumbled.
She snorted. “You can keep your flashy city boy and his boring blah blah blah about food. Sawyer’s the keeper. He’s aman.”
My heart dropped to my loafers. I obviously missed the signs, but…
Not her.
Sawyer has every right not to settle. He wants a relationship, and it burns me hollow under my ribs that some other lucky woman will snap him up. Kristen’s attractive, even if she has the personality of a black widow spider, but, please, whoever is up there in Heaven looking out for me…
Anyonebut Kristen.
When the clock hands finally meet for midday, I escape the clinic and head straight to the waterfront. Ten minutes later, I’m still a wet noodle sprawled over the bench. I’ve taken twobites out of my sandwich. My notebook is open beside me, but I haven’t glanced once at the carefully labeled Polaroids or the scrawled notes I took at the jewelers. I should be cramming. I haven’t read a word.
“There’s got to be some way of getting out of presenting,” I mumble to myself, forcing another bite of sandwich past the sandpaper in my throat.
I’m going to make a complete fool of myself.
Public speaking. On a stage. With a microphone.
Dante never contemplated this situation when he wrote hisInferno. He should have included a tenth circle of hell: humiliation in front of a group of your peers.
I slump lower on the bench. I’ve sorted through enough patient charts to come up with a convincing excuse to get out of this mess. Hay fever. An incurable brain tumor. Well, no one in town has been diagnosed with that, but itsoundslike a plausible excuse.
A white porcelain teacup and saucer appear before my eyes. The world shutters in a series of rapid blinks, and I snap up straight.
“I bribed the cafe to let me bring it over to you,” Luke says. “You look like you need it.”
My head whips in every direction. “Wha–what?” Where the heck did he come from?
