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CHAPTER 28
Isabella
Ipulled my phone out of my pocket and started to type, but then erased the words and put the device back in my purse. I’d written and deleted a half dozen texts in the last ten minutes on my walk to Jimmy’s house.
Mrs. B had told me where he lived and, somehow, she’d convinced me that I should show up unannounced. She’d said that it was romantic, but I was starting to think that taking advice from a woman that took pride in never having been in love might not be the best idea.
What if Jimmy didn’t want to see me?
What if he wasn’t home?
Or worse, what if he’s home and has company?
I turned onto his street and, for some reason, my feet were still taking me toward his home. They were moving forward, one after the other. My heart skipped when I saw his truck parked in front of the house that Mrs. B had described.
It was a white clapboard beach cottage, similar to the other cottages on the street, except his had a bright yellow door and black shutters. I’d never really given much thought to someone’s home being a reflection of their personality, but Jimmy’s house suited him. It was cozy, yet it stood out as individual from the other homes that surrounded it.
Even the landscaping fit him. It was well maintained but not overly manicured. It made me smile thinking about him coming home from the docks to this place.
My palms began to sweat the closer I got. Panic rose in me when I was a mere two steps away from his front walk. If my brain didn’t intervene and halt my progress, I’d be on his doorstep in about ten seconds. I could text him now, but that seemed like it would defeat the purpose.
My new lease on life had given me spurts of confidence boosts, but unfortunately, I didn’t seem to be able to access it any time I wanted.
The leaves on the mature oak in the center of his front yard rustled overhead as I stood on the sidewalk contemplating my next move. Behind me, the sound of waves crashing against the sand reminded me that the beach was only a hundred yards from his front door. The atmosphere around me could not be more serene, peaceful, and calm. It was a stark contrast to the hurricane of emotions stirring inside of me.
Fear being the main windstorm.
What am I so scared of?I asked myself.
I thought for a moment, and then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me. I knew why I was so nervous about going up to that door.
Right now, everything with Jimmy had gone perfectly. Well, that might have been a stretch. He had been perfect. I could walk away from this and have the memories of our time together one hundred percent intact.
For the rest of my life, however long that happened to be, I could pull up those untarnished moments and relive them any time I wanted. They’d be frozen in a time capsule, protected from anything that might destroy them.
But If I went up to that door and told Jimmy the truth about my condition, and he didn’t take it well, or even just looked at me differently, that would forever taint our time together. I was risking him not being a perfect thing. The one perfect thing to come out of this.
But if things went well, I would be gaining that one perfect thing, or at least more time with that one perfect thing.
I weighed my options and decided to take a chance. If not now, when? If not Jimmy, who?
Apparently, this decision made me very philosophical.
The three wooden steps leading to his front porch creaked as I walked up them. For some reason, the sound added to my anxiety. I felt like it was giving an audible play by play to my inevitable rejection.
When I got to the front door, I saw that it was open and the screen door was shut. I tried to look inside but I couldn’t see anything. So, I cupped my hand, lifted it and leaned forward peering inside. Still nothing. It was dark in the house, the only light coming from what looked like a hallway.
It was now or never. Game time.
Here goes nothing.
I lifted my hand and knocked on the wood frame of the screen door.
“Comin’,” he shouted and then I heard the sound of clicking nails on the floor and a deep bark.
The next thing I knew, the screen flew open, I stepped back and was met with a face full of tongue—not from the man I’d come to see. This was of the canine variety.
“Sherlock, no!” Jimmy shouted.
