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“Why didn’t you?” She asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do men have that much of a problem sharing their feelings?”
Her comment didn’t sting. Lance knew the stereotypes and worked hard to prove people wrong. He’d made dumb decisions as a boy. Some he couldn’t forget. It etched in his memory like an epitaph to a gravestone. “My family doesn’t do emotion, Andrea. We deal with life and move on.”
Move on. That idea had cost him everything.
“I see.”
“But I… don’t want to do that with you.” He hoped she heard his honesty.
“I know.” Then she groaned. “Lance, I have to go. Can we please talk later?”
He wouldn’t argue this time. There was no point. “Sure.”
Andrea hung up. Lance stared into space. Their future marriage wasn’t off to a good start.
Chapter 12
Chantelle passed the parked cars on Main Street. Striped awnings shaded the storefronts, and colorful welcoming signs displayed in store windows. Pedestrians strolled along and she waved to a few faces she recognized. Careful in her heels, she avoided the cracks in the sidewalk with grass tufts poking through.
Cars drove past while older trucks chugged along. Warm sunshine surrounded her, and passing the local coffee shop, she inhaled yeasty bread. It was a gorgeous day. Sunlight brightened everything it touched, adding glimmers to shiny surfaces and making colors appear more vivid. Reflecting off a store window, it gave a prism and refracted a mini rainbow.
Chantelle took out her cell to take a photo. She wouldn’t post it on social media, but this she would keep for herself on those nights in her apartment when she missed home. Zooming the photo closer, she focused to steady the photograph.
Something hard hit her from behind. She lost balance in her heels and stretched out her hand to break her fall. A muscular arm enveloped her waist. She held back a screech.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” A bass voice said. “Are you alright?”
A dog barked, and Chantelle’s eyes lowered to see the Yorkie wagging its tail. Its pink tongue hung from its mouth.
“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” she said.
“Chantelle?” He said as if he recognized her.
“Do I know you?” She asked, regaining her balance and stepping away from his embrace.
“We graduated the same year together.”
She shrugged. His shaved hair in a Mohawk fitted his square face. His olive skin was smooth, and his smile gleamed, making her grin back at him.
“Javier? Javier Flores?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.
“How are you?” Javier opened his arms for a hug.
Chantelle squealed, recalling her old friend in high school. She wrapped her arms around him and he swayed her back and forth. His dog barked again, interrupting the moment.
“This is Henry,” Javier said.
Chantelle knelt and reached for the dog’s paw. “Hi Henry.”
The dog shook with her, and she giggled. “You trained him well.”
“Thanks.”
She straightened to her feet. “How long are you in town?”
