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“Sophie from Marshall County!” Another fifty-something woman screams while giving her a hug.
Sophie greets her by name. I’m pushing one of those smaller metal carts behind her, like the ones they use at the grocery store for when you are going in for just a couple ingredients for dinner. Except this thing is heavy with books because Sophie’s been running around like a kid on a sugar high, fussing over the binding of the book before she smells them. Of course, she smells them all as her eyelids drop closed. I’ve never seen anything so attractive.
I’ve got it bad. The thing is, what we have hasn’t been defined. We’re both avoiding conversations of the future or what this means. I’m not thinking about having to return to Italy.
Staring at Sophie is more fun than thinking about leaving, so that’s what I do instead. I’ve caught myself staring at her multiple times today, and I’m pretty sure she’s caught me a few times, too. The thing is, the way her neck curves to meet her hairline is something to behold. I don’t get to see that part of her very often because her dark, wavy hair covers it up. I have to wait until she stops to look at something at a table. She leans over and palms her hair to one side so it doesn’t get in her way. That’s the moment. It’s mesmerizing and I can’t stop looking at her in case I miss the next time.
After our second time through all the booths, we take a break in a quiet corner of the convention center. “I’m completely out of money,” she says. She pats the towering stack that I’m finding increasingly difficult to push around.
“It’s the library’s money, right?”
“Yes. I get an allowance from the county and normally just order the books online. But once a year, I get to do this—” She spins her finger around to take in the conference center. “Did I tell you this one isn’t even out yet?” She paws through several hardcovers until she finds the right one. “And they’re only selling a limited number. Mary from the Shelley County Library told me they’re already out of them.” She presses the book to her chest and hugs it close. “I’m fortunate.”
“I think I’m the fortunate one.” I tug her close and realize the book is stuck in between us. It’s too bad, but it will have to do. I place a small kiss on her forehead, and she draws back, her gaze searching mine.
“What do we have here?” She glances down at my mouth and then back up to my eyes.
“I don’t exactly know what we have…just what I hope to have…if you’ll have it…” My tongue is thick.
“That’s a lot of haves.” She smirks.
I let go of her with one hand to scratch the back of my neck. “That’s because sometimes it’s hard to find the words when I’m around you.”
She bites her bottom lip, sets the book on top of the stack, and tries to push the cart forward. It’s heavier than she thought it was, so the inertia of her body slams into the stationary cart, sending the towering stack flying.
We scramble to pick up the books. “You haven’t even broken a sweat pushing this thing around.” She kicks one of the wheels with her Vans slip-ons. “My books are gonna break this thing and you’re not stopping me from adding more.”
I finish restacking, hoping none of the pages are creased. “I couldn’t stop you. That would have been cruel. Besides, the people of Marshall County need these books.”
She offers a small smile and starts to push the cart again. It’s slow, but she’s doing it. I know her enough to know not to take over. “You’ve got it. Just push with your legs,” I say.
As we round a corner, I place my hand on the small of her back and the other one on the handle to help steer. “The turns are the worst,” I mutter, glancing at her.
Her lips thin out and she grits her teeth. “I should have waited until one of those dollies was available.” She’s managed to straighten the cart and we’re walking towards the exit to pay for everything.
“Does this happen every year?” I ask, my hand still next to hers.
A smile curls her mouth to one side. “No.” A couple of steps later, “Yes. But I think I deserve it for the many hours I spend dealing with Scott.”
“You do deserve it.”
“So, about what I said earlier,” I venture.
She looks at me with brows raised. She darts her tongue out to wet her lips and flips her hair back.
She looks behind her and that blessed, beautiful back of her neck is a neon sign that I can’t get over.
“I’ve loved this past week,” I try, my heart pummeling my rib cage. “And it seems like maybe you have, too?” Except at that last word, my voice cracks. I feel a zip of embarrassment and suddenly, I’m back in the shake shop again, trying and failing to get my game on.
“It’s been really—” she swallows, her gaze going to me before continuing on ahead, “—really great.”
“It has been. I hope things work out, long term…”
Her sharp intake of breath stops me from going further, but then the corners of her mouth curve into a small smile. “We care about each other. That’s good enough for now.”
It has to be, but the thought of this ending, whether because I have to move away again or any of the other reasons stacked against me, is impossible.
Someway, somehow, I have to figure out a way to never say goodbye to her again.
