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Noah agreed—out loud, at least—as she came to a stop. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, opening the door. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”
“Anytime,” Jamie said. “I think you’ll really like it here. There’s usually a group doing something on the weekends. I could”—she paused, tucking her hair behind her ear—“let you know.”
Her offer of introduction to the local social life felt like being given a Band-Aid for a compound fracture. One of his mom’s oft-repeated adages came to mind, something about God opening a window somewhere when a door closes.
Noah grumbled his thoughts on that as Jamie drove away. He’d been banking on the door, for a change.
Grace hadn’t looked exactly thrilled with Alec at the social. But they were serious enough for public affection and altered church attendance—serious enough that Noah had to back off. Whywouldn’tGrace be happy with Alec? He was good-looking. Outgoing. Fun.
Tall.
Whatever had been bothering her the other night must be something else.
What if it was her family—her brothers? He realized they hadn’t talked at all about her family at the social. Why hadn’t he asked?
He could text Ryan, ask if anything was happening.
No.It wouldn’t do any good.
Discouraged feet dragged him up the stairs to his third-floor apartment and into his room. What had he expected? That he would move in and say hello and Grace would immediately want to be with him?
He should have known better, considering their history.
He should have texted before he made his decision to relocate here. He could have led with an update on Matt and seen where it went from there.
But he hadn’t.
With his new YCS assignment, he thought maybe he’d been given an opportunity to spend time with Grace without any walls up, but Jamie’s information confirmed that he’d have to build a new wall to hide his feelings behind instead.
Luckily, he had plenty of practice keeping things businesslike with Grace. He’d throw his hopes out the door and do his job and, once again, stay far enough away to resist her charms.
Chapter 49
Hangry
If braving construction traffic isany indicator of relationship fitness, Alec and I are Olympians.
I hate,hatedriving through construction, and the current juggernaut—combined with my car’s barely-staying-ahead-of-the-August-heat air conditioning—has turned what’s usually an easy twenty-minute drive into an exercise in anger management. I’m on my way to see Alec, stuck in a never-ending inchworm between my place and his, when Tony Ito, fellow cochair of the YCS planning committee, calls. I answer with my car’s Bluetooth; no sense in delaying the inevitable.
“Grace,” he says after my hello, “we need to schedule a committee meeting.” He’s not one for pleasantries.
“Hey, Tony!” I say, accelerating briefly with the rest of my worm segment. “How was your trip?”
“Pastor Will said we’re getting some new committee members on Sunday, so I don’t see any point in doing it before then, but we have to get things rolling.”
The snarky reply I knew I wouldn’t need—I’m glad your trip was a success, and I’m doing very well, thank you—blows away with the AC and a roll of my eyes. We have all our activities and projects mapped out until Christmas, but that won’t stop Tony’s worrying. “We should definitely meet with the new people,” I say, slowing as I notice the cascade of brake lights moving my way.
“And we need a debrief on last week’s activity: what worked, what didn’t.”
Like the awful telegraph game.
A sensory flood—callused palm, hazel eyes, cinnamon—distracts me long enough that two cars sneak in front of me as we speed up again.
“Can you hear me?” Tony says, testing our line.
“I lost you for a second.” True, if misleading. “What was that?”
“I said our numbers were down 4 percent from last year’s fall social. We need to determine and address the cause.”
