Page 47 of When We Were Young

I take a few deep breaths and rise. As I walk the several hundred feet to the shop, some of the tension, the anxiety I’ve been feeling lately, falls off me. Not all of it, but some.

I’m a creature of habit. Not coming to Ella’s every morning has definitely impacted me. My days feel off, and I often have a sense that I’m forgetting something. I’m more anxious than I’ve been in a while.

When I approach the storefront, I notice brown paper covering all the windows. Interesting. I wonder what she’s doing in there. I look around until I find a small tear that gives me just enough of an opening to peek inside.

That’s exactly what I’m doing when the main door flies open, and I jump backward.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

A narrow-eyed, red-faced Lizette stands in front of me, clenching her fists. Hopefully not in preparation to punch me.

“Shit! You scared me...”

“Really? As badly as you would be scared if you were cleaning inside and felt, then found, a creeper lurking in your window? Because that’s what you just did to me.” Anger radiates off her.

I shove my hands into my jeans pockets and rock back on my heels. Jesus, she’s even gorgeous when she’s pissed and wearing beat-up jean shorts and a paint-splattered T-shirt.

Her shirt reads: Fork Around and Find Out. Below is a graphic of a piece of pie and a fork.

She must catch me looking because she glances down at the shirt, then back up at me with those hypnotizing eyes.

“What? It’s a T-shirt I had made for my old bakery. It’s a pun.”

I grin at the implication that I don’t realize it’s a pun.

“What are you doing here, Holden?” Her voice sounds tired, missing the usual energy and spunk I remember from the past.

“I could ask you the same question. I live here and work here.”

“Yeah? Well, so do I now.” She sighs, walks into the bakery, and heads over to a booth. I take her in as she places her hand over a crack in the vinyl upholstery, then sits down on it and drops her head back to rest on the top of the seat.

I step just a few feet inside the door and then stand still. I’m at a loss for words. What do you say to the first and only woman you ever truly loved when you haven’t seen her for a decade and left things broken between you? Badly broken. Turns out I don’t have to decide what to say because she beats me to it.

“Listen, I realize now that this was all a mistake. Moving here. But the problem is, it’s too big for me to fix. At least right now.”

She glances down at her hand and scratches one fingernail with the other, a nervous gesture I recall her doing once in a while when we were young.

I walk over to the booth, and when she glances up, I gesture to the seat opposite her.

“May I?”

She doesn’t answer right away. There’s a war of emotions raging through her expressive eyes. The problem is I can’t read those emotions clearly anymore, and I hate that.

She nods, and I sit.

“I think maybe we should just acknowledge that this is really weird and get some basics out in the open,” I suggest.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I can do that. Let me go first, though.” She pauses, waiting for my agreement, and I nod. “I didn’t know you were here. I’ve been friends with Georgie online for several years, but I actually didn’t meet her in person until a few years ago. And...”

I wait for a few seconds, but when she doesn’t continue, I gently prod.

“And?” I take care that the inflection in my tone isn’t sarcastic or pushy.

“And I’ve been living in Elladine for about five and a half years before I moved here.”

I feel my mouth gape open, and my eyes bulge. She’s been living that close? Close to Meadow Creek, where I grew up, and even nearer Aron Falls, where I live and work now?

I’ve been less than an hour away from her all this time. From the woman who worked her way into my heart all those years ago, then decided I wasn’t enough.