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And signed up for another fucking knitting class I didn’t want to take.
Had picked up a half-dozen books I would definitely stay up way too late to read.
Saturday afternoon I’d even cut the ribbon at Monroe’s with Dessie, amongst the first to go in and drink a fucking beer (blegh) at the new sleek granite and metal bar top. The Rush game had played on TV, followed by the Gold game, and the mood had been jovial.
River’s Bend was officially back.
Then, on Sunday, Joel had called.
And we’d had a conversation on the phone.
Like two normal people.
It had felt…weird.
And good and…weird.
Yesterday, he’d played again, and I’d worked, but he’d texted, and I’d texted back and then, when I’d just begun to lie down on my couch, snuggled beneath my cozy blanket, he’d called me again.
Normal.
Weird.
And tonight, he was coming to pick me up. We were going to grab Italian at Luna’s downtown and then head over to Monroe’s to receive the official election results.
An election I’d campaigned hard for despite not having an opponent.
Because my people deserved the effort. Because my father wouldn’t expect anything less.
But, for the first time, I kind ofwishedI’d had an opponent.
Because maybe…I didn’t want to do this—be mayor—forever.
Which was something I shouldn’t even allow to cross my mind, let alone on a day like today.
Election day.
And it was a thought that had me feeling even guiltier when I glanced up at my father.
The former mayor.
Son of the former,formermayor.
It was all in the family, and the Donovans took their civic responsibilities seriously. It wouldnotdo to have my dad catching wind of my thoughts at leaving the office.
Anyway, it was just that. A thought.
I loved being mayor.
I was glad I’d been the one to see my town through this crisis. I enjoyed knowing everyone and seeing that they were safe and taken care of and thriving.
But sometimes…the weight was heavy.
And sometimes…I wondered what I might do if I wasn’t doingthis.
“BR.”
Warning and brusqueness from my father.
