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I studied that text forwaytoo long. We’d probably sent the same text to each other hundreds of times before. Nothing about it was remarkable. I didn’t doubt that hundreds of friends in our small town sent some variation of the same text. Locals’ night at Fireweed Winery was a favorite local event.
Kenan and I often met there. It was casual and easy, and many of our friends would be there.
I took a slow breath, willing my heartbeat, which was galloping out of control, to slow the hell down. This was no big deal. I lifted my phone and tapped out my reply.
Me:Sure. Meet you there.
I set my phone down, telling myself to focus on work. I always had plenty to do. Maybe a minute had passed when my phone vibrated. I told myself I didn’t have to look right away, but I was already reaching for my phone. Sliding it closer, I tapped on the screen.
Kenan:I’ll meet you at the office. I’ll be by at the end of the day anyway. I have to check in with Rhys about something.
Me:OK. See you when you get here.
This time, I silenced my phone. I didn’t need to wonder when he might text again. I even tucked my phone into my purse and zipped the side pocket shut for good measure. These were the measures I was taking to inoculate myself against the temptation to see when Kenan might text again.
We hadn’t discussed it, and I doubted we ever would, but our old habit of occasionally texting each other silly memes during the day had stopped. I missed it. It felt like we were being too careful with each other. Another reminder that maybe this was all a huge, heartbreaking mistake.
* * *
It was later in the day, late enough that Kenan was probably somewhere in the building. He didn’t have a regular schedule. Rhys was prone to show up early and stay late. Although his schedule was a little better since he had fallen in love.
Kenan had a fairly unorthodox schedule. He worked a lot, but in his role as the catchall for odds and ends, he might be out at the garage handling equipment issues for the business, stopping by the winery to check in with Blake about matters at the distribution warehouse, or coming in to the actual office.
I’d never wondered what he did during the days. I did now. I wondered why he was stopping by to meet with Rhys. Although we coordinated when needed, I didn’t know everything he did. Lately, I wondered what he was doing all the freaking time. When might I see him again? That wasalwaysthe question.
I saved a document on my computer and made a quick phone call to my mother. She had asked me to look at the schedule for a trip she wanted to plan for her and my father. She was giving him a surprise trip for his birthday. They were going to take a cruise from Alaska down to the coast of Mexico.
She answered on the first ring. “Hi, Quinn!”
“Hey, Mom. Just following up. I looked at the schedule you sent and think it looks great. Dad will love it. Do you all need me to cover anything while you’re gone?”
I could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, “I’m sure your dad will fuss about it, but as it is, we’re not working full-time now. We can dial back. Danielle will field anything that comes up in a pinch. I’m sure your father will want you to say that you’ll cover anything that comes up, so be prepared to do that. I’ve got it all set so you won’t need to do a thing.”
I laughed softly. “Mom, you know I don’t mind.”
“I know, but you work enough as it is. You handle the most challenging part of our practice at Fireweed Industries.”
“So when is this trip happening?”
“In March. I figure we’ll both be sick of winter by then. Mud season will be coming up. Speaking of winter, we’re doing Thanksgiving with the Cannons this year, as usual.”
A sense of anxiety tightened inside. We usually did Thanksgiving with the Cannons. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about that. Excepteverythingfelt loaded with Kenan.
“I assumed,” I replied lightly. “Is Thanksgiving already upon us?” I glanced at my desk calendar, my brain noting that it was next Thursday. “Are we doing the tree at the house on the Friday after?”
That was another tradition. My mother liked to decorate the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Ever since I was a little girl, we decorated a tall blue spruce tree in my parents’ front yard.
“Of course. Although, I was going to ask you if you thought Kenan wouldn’t mind coming to help,” she replied.
“I’m sure he’ll help. Is everything okay?”
My mother’s soft sigh filtered through the line. “Well, your father is not as young as he once was. I’m a little worried about him getting up on the ladder to do all those lights. If Kenan could help, I’d love it.”
“Of course. That makes sense. Dad’s probably going to have an opinion about that, you know.”
“Just have Kenan come over. We won’t make it a thing, and Kenan can help,” she insisted.
“Because denial is always helpful,” I teased.
