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I type out practice texts, careful not to send them yet, trying for a breezy tone like, “Hey, Soph, you’ll never guess where I am!” A groan of frustration exits my lungs because I know that won’t cut it.
The meeting goes on a ten-minute break, so I stand and tug my hand through my hair. It was a mistake to not tell her I was leaving, and my impatience with myself is growing. I pace back and forth along the business room’s corridor, wondering how I can make this right.
What is wrong with me? Why did I run? She deserves so much more than me. She needs someone who isn’t terrified at the thought of something deep and real.
That’s always been the reason, hasn’t it? My go-to thought has been,I can’t have a real relationship because I don’t have the first clue how to have one.My parents’ marriage has scared me, there’s no doubt about that. But what if that’s been my crutch all along? Just because they’re dysfunctional, doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll be, does it? I have the advantage of having seen it my whole life. I know what I want, and it’s completely different from what they have. Knowing that is an advantage in my favor, right?
I don’t know. But I do know I don’t want to be without Sophie. I love her. And if she’ll have me, I want to be with her for the rest of my life.
How are we supposed to figure this out, though? Because Longdale is problematic. I think Sophie was right when she said she’s worried about how I’ll feel about it in the future.
When shareholders begin filing into the room again, the guilt’s boiling up to new heights. I have to contact her, but words seem so inadequate. The truth is, my actions have placed us in the category of boss and employee, or just casual friends.
That’s wrong. And sending her a text during my meeting won’t fix any of it.
I miss Sophie. I can’t wait to go back.
***
I’m at her doorstep. The house screams Sophie. Small and cozy, the brick is painted white. The shutters are macaroni and cheese orange, and the wooden door is stained dark brown. There’s a metal sign on the porch that’s in the shape of a Bernese Mountain Dog that says, “Don’t Stop Retrievin’.”
I chuckle despite myself, and despite the harsh vibes I’m getting from Sophie’s sister, Claire. “Do you know where she’s headed today?” I ask.
Claire sighs and folds her arms. “No idea. One of the towns in the county. Does that narrow it down for you?”
Never buddy buddy with me, Claire’s loathing is dripping off her like acid rain.
“Uh. Yes. At least now I know she’s at work.” I venture smiling at her, but it doesn’t do anything to ease the discomfort between us.
“Why don’t you just text her and ask her where she is?” She glances down at my disheveled appearance. I realize I look jet lagged, but I didn’t have time to do anything about it. I came here straight from the airport, only stopping in the bathroom to change out of the pants I was wearing since there was an incident with a kid’s juice box on the plane.
Yes, I flew coach next to a toddler in his dad’s lap because I exchanged my first-class ticket on a later flight for an earlier one and beggars can’t be choosers.
I have to see Sophie ASAP and apologize for running. When I’m stressed about something, I run. I always have.
“I’ll text her,” I say to Claire. “Or I’ll look up the schedule on the website. Thanks.”
I’m not even back to the car before I’ve got the schedule pulled up. Fairhill. She’s in Fairhill today.
It’s when I’m safely on Lakeside Road, forest on either side of me, that I punch in a call to Sophie.
No answer. I mean, she is working. That’s probably why she’s not answering. But it puts a staccato note on my fear. I ache for her to understand. I ache for her, period.
Twenty minutes later, I see the mobile library on the side of the road, tilted at an angle. Oh no. I’m going too fast to stop in time, but I slow to do a U-turn. At first, the angle of the big, brightly colored bus makes me think it has a flat tire, but as I pass it, my eyes scanning for Sophie, I see the hood is popped open.
It takes me several seconds to slow down enough to turn around, and by the time I’m heading back towards Scott, my mind is racing. Where is Sophie? What’s wrong with the bus?
I park my car near Scott’s hood, so I can jumpstart the battery if needed.
“Sophie?” I call out as I walk around the perimeter. “Soph, are you okay?”
I clamor up the metal ramp and in through the open door.
“Oliver? What are you doing here?”
She has her hands on her hips. She’s wearing white and blue striped men’s pajamas and they’re cut in such a way that they cling to her body in all the right places. I nearly stumble as I walk towards her—she’s so beautiful.
I want to catch her up in my arms, but I stop myself. “I just got back from a last-minute trip to London. Are you alright?”
