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How had I convinced myself that never seeing that face again wouldn’t be a big deal?

“Meg,” he breathed. “What are you…” he started, before letting his voice trail away when he realized he didn’t know how to continue. “I don’t understand,” he said instead, glancing down at the paper clutched in his hand. “I’m here for the fiber installation. Why are you here?”

“What? I don’t understand,” I parroted, suddenly noticing the company logo on his button-down shirt and the tool bag he was white knuckling. “You’re the cable guy? You design websites. In Massachusetts.”

“Not cable. Fiber,” he replied, but the correction sounded hollow, as though recited by rote.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he said, shaking his head to clear it and waving his hand to dismiss the words. “That’s not important. What matters is that I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.” His shoulders fell forward and the raw sadness in his gaze hit hard enough to leave me gasping for breath; but it was nothing compared to the despair that flooded me when he turned to leave, folding the paper in his hand.

“Art! Wait!” I cried. “Don’t go. Please! I’m so confused. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “I didn’t. I had no idea that this was the shop, let alone that you were in this town.”

“But…”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Meg,” he said, shrugging helplessly. “Twist of fate? Fortune? Maybe it’s a cosmic prank. Or…” he pulled out his phone with a frown.

“Or?” I prompted.

He shook his head again. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’ll send someone out tomorrow to get your internet set up. Bye, Meg. It was good to see you again,” he added with a sad smile as he walked out the door.

It was all I could do to not run after him as he hurried up the street and out of sight.

Somehow, I had convinced myself that all I’d felt for Art was infatuation fueled by new-relationship energy. But every suppressed emotion had roared back to life the instant I laid eyes on him again.

A wave of grief washed over me, making my knees wobble. I’d held a beautiful and rare thing in my hand, and I’d thrown it away. And for what? A childish dream?

My heart bucked in protest. No. A very real dream. One that I deserved to explore with no guilt.

Impulsively buying the shop had been the first intentional step I’d taken into a future that was all mine—a first ray of clarity after months of darkness—but meeting Art had been the catalyst that jerked me out of the stupor I had sat in for months, unable to see past the ruins of my life. He’d reached through all the hurt to pull out the happy, easygoing girl I’d been before meeting Jim. It had shocked me to realize I couldn’t even pinpoint when she’d disappeared.

Buying the shop had been all her doing, and I refused to feel anything but grateful that she was finally getting her moment to shine

When Art returned an hour later, looking a little sheepish and a lot guarded, I was no more prepared to find myself face to face with him than I had been earlier. If anything, seeing him again while still so raw from our first encounter was harder.

“You’re back,” I said.

“I’m back,” Art replied with a grimace. “The rest of the team is stuck at a big job site which is why I was here in the first place. No one will be able to come out for days, and I didn’t want to leave you stranded just because seeing you again is a little awkward.”

His words stung, but I let them slide. After what I’d done, he was entitled to a little snark.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

As he glanced around, ostensibly looking for the best spot for the device he was there to install, I scanned his face, looking for proof that I’d done the right thing in letting him go, but all I found was evidence of the pain I’d caused him. My racing heart ached for the sweet, gentle bear of a man who’d shown me nothing but kindness and candor. I’d repaid him with, what? Wariness and mistrust? A callous disregard for his feelings and agency?

I groaned inwardly, uncomfortable with the truth roiling in my gut.

Reluctant to stand too close to him, I stayed on the shopkeeper’s side of the counter and watched him walk around the store until I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” I blurted out, wondering if my voice sounded as raspy to him as it did to me.

“Huh?” Art glanced over at me with a frown, looking confused.

“Tea? Super-heated infusion of free-radicals and tannins? Made from boiling water poured over leaves? Nothing fancy, but I need a cup. Would you like one?”

He shot me a bemused half smile and nodded. “I know how tea is made, and yes, I would like a cup. Thank you.”