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Three dots appear on my phone as if he’s about to type something else, but after several seconds, I don’t get any new messages.
I sit up in bed, stretch, and get a glimpse of myself in a nearby mirror. Thank goodness he won’t see what I look like when I call.
I dial the number used to text me and he picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”
Why do I break out into a grin at the sound of his voice? I mentally shake myself. I’m not capable of having a relationship right now. I need to heal and figure out who I am again. I lost myself–my identity–caring for Dad. Before I can be in a relationship, I need to figure out who I am, what I want, and where I’m going.I owe that to myself, to Ryan, or to anyone else I end up in a relationship with.
The idea of missing out on another chance at Ryan rips any happiness I got from his text out of me. I press my eyes closed and force a smile. “Hey.”
“I was just debating whether it would be easier if I called,” he says.
“Me too.” Darn it. I’m smiling again. I do a mental face-palm and clear my throat. “Okay. Tell it to me straight about the car.”
“Well,” he says, hesitating, “Your battery is definitely dead. I traced it back to a bad alternator. Then I did a little more digging and realized your timing belt is also not working right.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means your car isn’t moving until I get both of them fixed. Normally, I’d order them from Spokane or even overnight the parts to my shop. But we’ve got the holiday on Monday so I can’t order the part until Tuesday. Which means I won’t get the part till Wednesday–Thursday at the latest, and then, depending on when the package arrives, I may not get the repair done until late Thursday or sometime on Friday.”
I rub my hand across my mouth, mentally cataloging the upcoming week. Would anyone miss me if I were here for an entire week?
The pull of being in Walla Walla with Ryan is unrelenting. I’d reschedule practically anything to live in this little dreamlike bubble for a few days longer. Then, when the car’s fixed, I’ll return to my miserable reality and pretend like it never happened.
“Are you still there?” Ryan says, cutting into my thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I was just thinking.”
“Do you want to get a rental and I can bring your car down when it’s done?” he asks.
A smile creeps onto my lips. There he goes being all thoughtful again.
“I think I’d rather stay here and wait,” I say. “There is nothing pressing at home I need to deal with. Most of the hard stuff was done before the funeral. I think a mini vacation in Walla Walla is exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“Really?”
I bite my lip. “Really.” Will he be too busy with work to spend time with me? Am I reading too much into our friendship? I never asked him if he has a girlfriend or a wife. I shrink into my bed and bite my thumbnail, holding my breath for his reaction.
Me staying in Walla Walla could be the best thing that ever happened to me, or another in a long line of horrible choices I’ve made in the last decade.
“Would you be interested in coming to my house for a barbeque today? I’ve invited a bunch of people. There will be games and movies, and food,” he says in a sing-songy voice as if to entice me.
I chuckle under my breath and stare at the ceiling. Butterflies fill my stomach. “Sure,” I say. “I’d love to.”
“Perfect. I’ll text you my address and the time.”
“Sounds good.” I whip my blanket off, suddenly realizing I only have enough clothes to get me through yesterday. If I’m going to a barbeque, I need to get to a store! “Bye.”
“Bye.”
My stomach drops. How the heck am I supposed to get to his house without a car?
The phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“I totally forgot about your car–or lack thereof. Why don’t I pick you up? I’ve gotta get the food ready though. Would you mind helping with some of that?”
The grip on my chest loosens. “I’d be happy to. What time should I expect you?”
