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Audrey blew me a kiss on her way out the door. “Good luck tonight.”
“What do you mean you can’t make it tonight? We had the whole thing planned.” Austen rarely sounded frustrated, but he did now.
“I know, but I can’t do much about it,” I whispered into the phone. I didn’t want Aedyn to overhear and have his feelings hurt. It wasn’t his fault. “I’m not allowed to drive him home according to White Pines policy, and...”
“Whoa, whoa, wait. Isn’t this Morgan’s problem? Shouldn’t she be there?”
“I guess, maybe, but I said I’d stay with him. Everyone else has something to do.”
“What about you? We have a reservation!”
“I’m sorry. I think I’ll have to cancel and...” I swallowed. “Maybe it’s... it’s for the best. I, uh...”
Austen changed tactics before I could finish what I’d meant to say. “You know, it’s okay. Really, it’s fine. I get it; you’re doing what you need to do, because you’re the kind of girl who keeps her promises. I love that about you. How about you text me when you’re on your way home? Or we could just meet at the restaurant. I’ll push back the reservation. No problem.”
I chewed my lower lip. If I didn’t just say it now, whenwasI going to? But I didn’t feel right about starting something like that when a kid was listening, either. “Okay,” I agreed.
“You made it!” Austen stood up from the table with a huge smile. He looked impeccable in pressed Kimes jeans, an Ariat logo shirt, and a new silver belt buckle. Any girl in town would be proud to sit down at his table and gaze into those dark brown eyes.
I gave him a quick hug and reached for my chair. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Austen was pulling out his own chair again, but his nose was wrinkled. His gaze swept over me from top to bottom, and his brows jumped. He cleared his throat and picked up his menu.
“What is it?” I asked, looking down at myself. I hadn’t had time to run home and clean up, but it wasn’t like I was in my pajamas.
“Didn’t get a shower after work?” he asked, not looking up.
“Uh...” I tipped my nose surreptitiously toward my armpits and took a sniff.
“The engine grease, angel. I’m not sure I like how hard you have to work at that mechanic shop.” He lowered his menu, and his eyes traveled to my hair, which was still in the ponytail I’d twisted up without the benefit of a mirror or a brush. “Did you need to freshen up? I’ll wait to order.”
I grabbed my bag. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
In the ladies’ room, I turned off the water and stared over the sink at the face in the mirror. The face of a coward. When was I going to grow a spine?
I’d told myself I was through dating men who were wrapped up in my looks, yet here I was, having dinner with a guy who said something whenever I hadn’t dolled up to my absolute best. He didn’t like my flannel shirt, he didn’t like the smell of the mechanic shop or how my hair looked when I pulled it back. He really hated the old handkerchief I wore over my head at work and the fluffy lounge pants I liked to curl up on the couch in. And he didnotapprove of dogs on the furniture.
So, what was I doing with him? Was I just lonely?
I peered closer, noting the fine red streaks in my eyes and the faint dark circles under them. I hadn’t slept well for a couple of weeks, and it was starting to show. I pulled the wisps of hair back that fell over my forehead. Were those age lines? I was only twenty-six! But thirty wasn’t far away, and after that forty, and after that...
I was scared. That was what it was. Scared of being alone. Scared of becoming my dad, with a long empty road ahead and no one to brighten his life. And I hated myself for it. It would be better to be alone than to spend my time fretting about someone who didn’t fit.
If I was honest with myself, I’d been apathetic about my dates with Austen since early January, but the last couple of weeks, I’d actually been irritated every time he called to make plans. And still, I hadn’t said anything.Why?Why couldn’t I speak up with what was on my heart? I’d never been good at that.
Even my dad had mentioned it a few times. I was like my mom, he said. I kept my mouth shut, and people walled out because I didn’t like feeling like I lived in a fish bowl. I’d been noticed my whole life, but rarely known. So, instead of showing people who I really was, I just showed them what I thought they wanted to see, and I kept my heart safe behind lock and key. So safe that no one, not even I, knew how to draw it out anymore.
Now, this wouldn’t do at all. I was in the bathroom of the busiest restaurant in town on Valentine’s Day, and I was crying over the sink. Big, blubbery tears were streaking my face, and I didn’t even remember how they got there. All I knew was that I had to hide them.
If that were Dusty Walker out there waiting for me at that table, would things be different? Would I try to put on a brave face, or would I go to him and trust him to hold me through the tears?
If it was Dusty Walker, I scolded myself,I wouldn’t be crying in the first place. I didn’t know what made me so sure of that, but I felt it in my bones.
There was my answer. I was waiting for the kind of man I could trust with my whole self, even when I didn’t look pretty. The kind of man who would cradle me against his chest and read to me by firelight. The kind who would get his hands dirty with me and still want to kiss me. I wanted a man who looked at my heart.
But first, I had to clean up my face. Then, I was going to go out there and somehow find the words to say to Austen. It would hurt him, but Audrey was right. I had to do it before it was too late. And once I was free, I was going to call Dusty Walker and ask him out myself, if that was what it took. I had to at least try.
I didn’t carry a makeup compact or a brush in my purse, so I made do with a chapstick and some working hands cream. At least my skin felt a little fresher, but I couldn’t do much about my hair. It would just look stringy if I left it down, so I piled it up in the most sophisticated-looking bun I could manage with a hair tie and gave myself one last look in the mirror. If Austen didn’t think I looked okay and couldn’t be a little understanding of the circumstances... well, I just didn’t care anymore.
