Page 16 of Call It Serendipity

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Pollock and Basquiat. He listened and came back to it.

“I thought I’d already done that though,” I admit quietly.

He follows me over between our cars, leaning against the passenger door of his truck and holding my sandwich hostage. “Did you enjoy this new style today?”

“Yes. Very much so,” I say, blinking back at him in surprise. “But I’m sure you’re not interested in me going on about this.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well—”

“You don’t usually talk about this with people, do you?” The corner of his mouth tips up.

Instead of answering, I reach out and swipe my bag from his hand, then I turn to unlock my door before he can see the embarrassment on my face.

I don’t get my keys out in time, not before I feel his grip gently settling over my elbow.

“Wait, Lucy. Please.”

I look back over my shoulder, and he adds, “Stay and eat with me?”

“I should get back to painting,” I mumble, concentrating on the way his hand hovers over my arm, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt again. “Besides, where would we eat?”

He nods back towards his truck. “I’ve got a tailgate. And you need to eat before getting to work again anyway, right?”

Torn between my instinct to escape a social situation and the strange pull I feel towards him, I glance over to the bed of his truck. “I’m a fast eater,” I reason. “I won’t stay long.”

“That’s okay.”

“Then… sure.”

Jake doesn’t wait for me to change my mind. He moves around to drop the tailgate and helps me up before sitting beside me. Our feet dangle off the edge, swinging perilously close to tangling with one another.

As promised, I unwrap my sandwich quickly and start eating with oversized bites. It wasn’t a lie; I eat extremely fast when I spend all day forgetting to take food breaks. He doesn’t try to slow me down with conversation either, apparently content with just eating side by side.

And when I finish before him, wrapping up the now empty deli paper, he still doesn’t try to stop me. I hop down to the ground and collect my tote, throwing it over my shoulder. “Thank you, for the sandwich,” I say, holding up the balled paper.

“Thanks for the company,” he replies without a hint of sarcasm.

“I was hardly any company,” I snort, making my way over to my Subaru. I stop with my hand on the door and turn back in time to see him shrug.

“I beg to differ.”

When I climb in behind the wheel, I feel a traitorous smile curl my lips. I tuck it away quickly as I back up and find him walking over towards my driver’s side window though.

He waits patiently while I crank it down, then leans forward and rests his elbows on the opening. “You know, one of these days, Lucy Hart, we’re going to spend time together and it won’t be by accident at all,” he tells me confidently.

Then he steps back, allowing me room to drive away. And as I look in the review mirror, I catch him smiling in my dust.

10

Looking out the window, I fold my arms across my chest and admire the mountain terrain and thick forest covering most of the ridge. Every so often, an early-turning tree boasts vibrant fall colors amongst all the dark green, hinting at what’s to come.

“You don’t get views like this in the city. Do you, Charlie?” I ask, glancing down at my red golden retriever seated at my side. He looks back with unrestrained joy, his tail wagging in a thumping rhythm against the hardwood floors.

Back in Manhattan, I live on the eighth floor of a high rise. At that elevation, most of the noise of the city is more of a constant pulse than direct bother. Overall, the apartment is pleasant. And there is a nice grassy yard in the back for taking Charlie out when we don’t have the time to go walk Central Park.

It’s fine in the city, truly.