It was still pouring and the trees along the highway blurred like a watercolour painting in the gray “daylight” that felt more like approaching evening, as Aisha zipped along the highway in her little car.
In the back, Mo was singing away to her rag doll, Zimmery—handmade for her by Katelyn and much beloved. It was beyond excellent that she was entertaining herself because in the front, Aisha was finding it difficult enough to focus on her driving with Jase sitting so close, radiating warmth in that oh-so-comforting way of his, and smelling so good.
Aisha fiddled with the stereo and accidentally brushed Jase’s thigh. Heat suffused her face. His seat was pushed back as far as it could go, but his knees were still bent awkwardly high and he sat with his head slightly inclined toward the passenger window so he could avoid bumping it against the car’s roof. It should’ve been comical, like he was a clown in one of those mini vehicles, but instead it only made her more aware of his sheer physical presence. Did other people around him notice it as much as she did? Jase filled the whole vehicle, and she was so conscious of him that whether she was physically touching him or not, it felt like she was.
He seemed to feel their proximity too and was (maybe!) as unsettled by it as she was. Or she hoped he was. Or she didn’t. Argh, she didn’t know! Either way, it had been a pretty quiet drive so far, and she liked that—that he wasn’t one of those people who had to constantly talk just to hear the sound of his own voice. He’d commented on how he couldn’t get over the beauty of the region—said the mist coming off the river made the place seem mystical—then silently proceeded to take in the passing scenery.
Every so often he drummed his fingers on one of his denim clad thighs, like he was responding to music only he heard. Every time he did, Aisha was drawn to the movement, then had to force her gaze back to the road, away from the view of his legs and the tight fit of his jeans—different ones than his usual work denim. These must be his town jeans, she thought, and it made her smile.
“So what did Callum say?” she asked eventually, truly wanting to know, but also hoping the answer might adequately distract her.
Jase looked over at her. “Did you know?”
It was a strange way to answer the question. “Know what?”
From the back seat, Mo crooned, “Know, know, know whaaat?” to the tune of “Row, row, row your boat,” obviously more tuned into the front’s occupants than Aisha had originally thought.
Jase rubbed his jaw which had a delicious five o’clock shadow—What is wrong with me, thought Aisha. Focus!
Just as she was starting to worry that maybe Callum and Jo had actually said something negative or terminated his job, he shrugged. “You’re looking at River’s Sigh B & B’s new groundskeeper.”
“Like permanently?” Aisha’s voice was embarrassingly squeaky.
Jase looked uneasy. “Well, permanent for now anyway. Why? Is that okay?”
“Of course—not that it matters what I think. River’s Sigh is their business—but it’s all good. We have tons of yard work every season.”
“And I guess you guys all vacation in the winter and need a caretaker?”
Aisha nodded. “Yeah, this local guy Jesse used to help us out, but I think he and his wife are going to Hawaii or something this year.”
“Nice.”
Aisha’s eyes were trained on the road, but out of her peripheral, she saw Jase studying her. She shivered a bit and glanced over at him. He immediately looked away and resumed watching the trees zip by—but not before Aisha got a good look at his face. What was he thinking about with such a fathomless expression? It drove her crazy how completely he could mask his thoughts and feelings.
Mo had gone quiet. A peek in the rearview mirror revealed she had nodded off, her little chin bobbing against her chest. The hum of the car’s engine and the pooling water on the highway splashing against the undercarriage seemed inordinately loud. They were nearing the four-way intersection that led into Greenridge, and Aisha was about to ask where Jase wanted dropped off, but he spoke first.
“I guess it means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
Excitement-laced fear rocketed through Aisha. That’s exactly what his new position meant. She hadn’t known she’d been hoping for that very thing until now, and she was confused by a simultaneous, but conflicting thought: it would be easiest and for the best, by far, if he just . . . moved on.
The stop sign for their lane was suddenly right there. Startled, she hit the brakes much harder than necessary. The car slammed to an abrupt stop. Aisha’s body lurched against the tight constraints of her shoulder belt and Jase’s head thunked against the top of the windshield.
Aisha winced. “Sorry.” She checked her rearview mirror again, making sure Mo was okay. She was still asleep, undisturbed by the jostling.
“No worries.”
After a logging truck cleared the intersection, Aisha turned right, heading in the direction of the old one lane bridge that would take them into Greenridge on the side of town closest to the library, the first of Aisha’s planned stops. “Where should I drop you?”
Jase nodded like her change of subject was a response to his earlier statement, and she guessed it kind of was—but it made her feel like a wimp.
“I want to hit the library and a grocery store. I won’t take long either place, but I’m good to sit in a coffee shop until whenever you and Mo are done. Just let me out wherever you want to pick me up. I’ll go about my business and make sure I’m back for whatever time you figure you’ll be finished.”
“I need to go to the library too and I’d also planned to grab groceries. Want to do errands together, or would you prefer to split up?”
“Together sounds good.” Was there a hint of suggestion in Jase’s voice or was he simply answering her question? Either way, Aisha’s stupid stomach leaped again. She glanced back at the still-sleeping Mo.
“To me too,” she answered. “But it’s complicated.”
She was mollified to see Jase’s brow crease. Why should she be alone in her confusion?
Aisha jerked her chin toward Mo’s car seat. “Can I treat you to coffee and we’ll drive around for a bit, so she can sleep a tad longer?”
“Anything you need works for me.”
He was so sincere—so nice. Dammit! Another point to him!
“Alrighty then.”
They got coffee at a drive through, and Aisha gave Jase a guided car tour of downtown Greenridge and what locals called the south side. It took about fifteen minutes, including “doing the bridges.”
“There’s another residential area on the plateau of that mountain,” she said pointing north, “and a couple other pretty well-populated areas on the outskirts of town that have different names, but are really, for all intents and purposes, part of Greenridge.”
Jase nodded. “It’s huge, super urban.”
Aisha laughed. “Okay, okay, no need to be sarcastic.”
Mo started to stir.
“Perfect timing.”
Like the impromptu lunch and movie/game afternoon the day before, the rest of the day was just . . . lovely. Aisha never felt she and Mo lacked anything being a little family of two, yet she was surprised by how Jase just seemed to fit. He felt like an extension of them, not a guest. Maybe it was because he was so easy going or maybe it was how gentle he was with Mo, not pushy or trying too hard to impress her or ingratiate himself to her—yet shyly pleased whenever she said anything to him or included him. Aisha particularly liked how, when Mo said or did something comical, Jase would meet Aisha’s eyes and smile his slow smile, like he was as impressed with Mo as Aisha—and Mo herself—was.
In the library, he was surprisingly quick to return to the children’s section where Aisha was letting Mo choose books, though the reusable book bag he carried was packed full.
Aisha had just told Mo that three times was enough regarding the book they were reading together, but Mo insisted passionately that she needed to hear it again. Her eyes lit up when she saw Jase.
“Will you read this to me, please?” Mo asked. Jase shot Aisha an unsure look.
“You definitely don’t have to, but if you wouldn’t mind, maybe I could sneak away to pick out some books for myself?”
“Yes, please!” Mo added, like Aisha getting a chance to browse on her own was Mo’s top priority.
Jase lowered himself to the floor beside them. Surrounded by child-size furniture that looked exactly like adult furniture but in miniature, he could’ve been part of a Gulliver’s Travels display—though admittedly no version of the story Aisha had ever read suggested Gulliver was so yummily gawk-worthy.
“What?” Jase asked.
Aisha’s face flamed and she shook her head. “Nothing.” Then she added to Mo, “I won’t be long. Be good my little Lilliputian!”
Her comment garnered hilariously similar looks of bafflement from Jase and Mo.
When Aisha returned, after taking slightly longer than she’d planned—she’d gotten pulled into a new series by accident and ended up arranging an interlibrary loan so she could binge read them—it was like neither Jase nor Mo had moved a muscle in her absence. They were both so absorbed in the book on Jase’s lap, they didn’t notice Aisha approach quietly behind them.
She stared down at their bowed heads, struck by the contrast of Jase’s tough-looking shaved scalp, complete with a jagged heart-shaped scar near his crown, something she’d never seen before because he was so much taller than her, and Mo’s soft shining curls, which were pulled up into a high, slightly messy bun. The napes of both their necks were visible to her, and they seemed equally tender and vulnerable somehow. The observation made her smile and go slightly misty-eyed. She swallowed hard, then mocked herself. What a weirdo. She must have PMS. It did not go beyond her notice that she used that excuse whenever her emotions got the better of her—and that seemed to be happening a lot lately. But whatever. Getting pregnant as a teenager had made her super conscious of her cycle, whether another baby was a physical impossibility because of no sex life or not.
Jase finally sensed her presence and looked up. For the briefest moment, his eyes gave her the strange impression that he was sad or wistful about something. But then he smiled and his whole countenance transformed. Figuring she was just overthinking as usual, Aisha glanced at the book lying open in his lap. It was the same one she’d read to Mo three times before turning Mo over to Jase.
“Seven,” Jase said, like he read her mind.
“And he didn’t complain once, Mom.”
Mo packed up her own books and, staggering under the weight of the bag that she half carried, half dragged, started toward the self-check out machine. Careful not to be overheard by Mo, Aisha whispered, “Suck up.”
Jase’s face creased with humor. “I can’t help it if I’m a competitive repetitive book reader and you’re an amateur.”
“A competitive repetitive book reader, hey?”
“What can I say?” Jase shrugged with mock humility. “Some of us have it, some of us don’t.”
As Mo “beeped” her own books, something she was obsessed with, Jase said, “You’re probably already aware of this, but she knows most of the words in that story. She practically reads it herself.”
Aisha smiled. “I think it’s more like she has it memorized—and I have no idea how she managed that feat, ha ha—but yeah, she can sight read a few things.”
“And she’s only four?” Jase shook his head. “Is that . . . usual? Like are most other kids reading by her age too? Or if someone had been closer to seven or eight before they learned, would that be all right?”
It was a weirdly specific question for someone without kids, and Aisha chuckled. “I think as long as you’re reading fluently now, you’re all good—but yes, Mo is a genius.”
Jase didn’t laugh at either part of her comment, so Aisha did. “I’m joking—and more than a tad biased.”
“You should be. Every kid needs to have a parent in their corner, whether the kid knows they are or not.” His tone was so serious that Aisha gave him a double-look, but he’d started pulling out his books to scan and she couldn’t see his eyes.
“Well, if that’s the most important criterion, I guess I’m nailing parenting.”
“I think so.” Again, there was no hint of a joke or the suggestion he was even slightly exaggerating.
Grocery shopping with Jase was oddly fun too, although Aisha had to carefully refrain from asking him whether he liked pretty much every item she put in her cart because, of course, he wasn’t going to be eating every meal with them.
“Ooolala,” she said when she saw him put a Japanese brand of instant noodles in his shopping basket. “So fancy! No generic noodles for you.”
His eyes crinkled. “I’ve seen the food standards at River’s Sigh, so I’m upping my game.”
Ten grocery carts deep in the checkout line, Jase remembered he wanted ice-cream. Aisha agreed to hold his place, while he and Mo went to find some. A cooking magazine caught Aisha’s eye. She was about to pick it up and flip through it, when something two women ahead of her were saying grabbed her attention. Aisha froze and eavesdropped shamelessly, her good mood plummeting. She couldn’t even manage to be falsely cheerful when Jase and Mo returned.
“Everything okay?” Jase asked, as they loaded the car with their purchases. “Did something happen?”
“No, yeah—not really.” Aisha clicked Mo into her car seat, climbed behind the wheel, and buckled up. Jase followed suit on his side of the car.
“Well, maybe something did. I’m not sure. Are you game for a small detour before we head back to River’s Sigh?”
“Absolutely.”
And so, her heart beating fast, Aisha drove down main street, then turned onto a small go-nowhere side street, queasy with dread.
She pulled to a stop in front of her destination, and her fears were immediately confirmed. The cutest, most perfect—if rundown and badly in need of repairs—heritage house that she’d been coveting for years for her store was already under renovation. And one thing was brand new and already installed: a wrought iron post near the stone walkway with an ornate hanging sign, also ridiculously cute and perfect, announcing The Second Chance Shop. A line below added, Whimsical gifts for the practical heart. And beneath that, hanging as separate entities linked by delicate chains, was a vertical row of creamy placards, forming the following list: New ~ Used ~ Antique ~ Vintage ~ Upcycled ~ Recycled ~ Consignment.
A sturdy but temporary banner hung over the corner of the sign on a diagonal, bragging “Coming Soon” in huge pink script.
It was like the ground split beneath Aisha and threatened to pull her down; she almost cried out. It was one thing to have heard rumors that someone had hijacked her idea, inadvertently or not. It was another thing, entirely, to see it. So perfect. So everything she’d wanted.
“Um, what are we looking at exactly?” Jase asked.
But Aisha . . . couldn’t talk.
Mo answered for her in a helpful tone. “That’s your store, right, Mom?”
Aisha shook her head and swallowed back what she was sure would be a sob if she let it escape. “No, baby. It’s someone else’s.”
She was aware of Jase’s eyes on her as she shoulder-checked and pulled away from her dream, but she couldn’t bring herself to say more at the moment. Mo was right. It was Aisha’s store, right down to the specifics of what the store was selling. She even loved the tag line “whimsical gifts for the practical heart” and would’ve used it herself if she’d thought of it. And now . . . what? She had a workshop of . . . absolutely nothing. Someone had beaten her to her dream—and looked like they were going to do a better job than what she’d envisioned.
“Red light,” Jase said calmly.
“You’re not kidding,” she muttered back, then realized what he actually meant. She’d seen the light, was already slowing for it—but understood why he might be worried. She stopped with plenty of time, didn’t even have to brake hard, but she appreciated the warning regardless.
“Mama?” Mo asked and Aisha felt transparent and lame. Mo only called her mama if she was sad or sensed Aisha was. “Can I listen to a story?”
“Sure, sweetie. Do you have your headphones?” She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Mo nod, already wearing her Bluetooth headset.
“It’s paired, Mom.”
Aisha wiggled her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to Jase. “Would you mind going into the Overdrive app and resuming the Junie B. Jones story? It should be already open. My phone’s password is 2-3-2-6.”
Jase quietly obliged, and Mo rested back in her seat, looking on the verge of laughter just in anticipation. It made Aisha smile, despite herself. At least one of them was happy at the moment.
As she cut through town toward the highway, the backs of Aisha’s eyes burned. Seeing proof that her dream shop was just that, a silly, naïve dream for her, a reality for someone else, on the very same day she’d completely recommitted to going for it was . . . crushing. How had she let herself down so badly? Why had she stockpiled and hoarded and waffled about instead of striking out on her own a year ago? Why, even now, was she almost as preoccupied with Jase sitting beside her as she was with the fact that all her plans had crumbled?
She cleared her throat, coming to a decision. She liked Jase, sure, but there was no safety, no security in that . . . just the opposite, actually. She needed to refocus on her priorities, make concrete decisions about what to do next, and then follow through with actions to bring those decisions, whatever they were, into existence. She had to stop failing herself.
From the backseat, Mo giggled—then giggled again. Aisha and Jase exchanged an amused glance. It was good timing. Mo was definitely distracted and wouldn’t overhear, and she and Jase had made eye contact.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” she started, shifting her gaze back to the road.
“What was that?”
“That since you’re working at River’s Sigh permanently, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other—and I guess you’re right. It does mean that. We will.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Jase didn’t sound offended, more like he genuinely wanted to know.
One of Aisha’s shoulders lifted in a half shrug before she could stop it.
“I’m not very happy with how I’ve been treating you,” she said, darting another quick look his way.
If she’d punched him in the face, Aisha didn’t know if he could look more startled.
“How so?”
“I’m normally a very direct person. I try to be super honest, with myself and with others, even if it’s uncomfortable.”
“Okay . . .”
They were stuck at yet another red light and Aisha spotted a crow just beyond her windshield. Caught in a strong cross-current of wind, it flapped about in an awkward frenzy, then flipped over in the breeze. He struggled to right himself and finally managed to. Instead of flying away, however, he landed in a nearby tree as if attempting anything further was too much at the moment. Aisha so related.
“I like you. I’m attracted to you. I have fun with you. There’s something—some draw or whatever—between us. We both feel it, I think.”
A half smile creased Jase’s face, but was instantly replaced by a pensive, knowing expression. “But?”
Aisha nodded. Just one more thing she liked about him. He wasn’t an idiot.
“But when you weren’t going to be around long-term, I let myself enjoy the fun of what if, the luxury of flirting, etc.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “But now that you’re a permanent fixture—and I’m happy you are, sincerely, I am—you need to know that it doesn’t matter what fantasies I entertained. I’m building a life for me and Mo. I’m working to be financially independent and to have my own business—which will probably require relocating now.” Her voice caught, but she pushed on. “I have no interest in any kind of real romantic relationship, not a serious one, not a casual one, not any kind of one.”
“Wow—”
But Aisha wasn’t finished. “I just don’t have time and I have no desire to make time. Plus . . . ” She trailed off, the full truth a hot coal on her tongue. I’m too scared. I can’t risk loving—or losing—another person. But that was too much to say to someone you weren’t even officially dating. “Plus,” she repeated, settling for something just as true, but not as nakedly so. “Past experiences haven’t convinced me that any benefits of a romantic relationship make the hassle worth it.”
Jase blinked and he was quiet for a moment. Then he seemed to come to some inner decision. His eyebrow quirked. “You have fantasies about me?”
Aisha shook her head, but a happy glow of relief flooded her. Oh, good. She’d worried her declaration might cause her to lose him as a friend, but she wouldn’t. They were going to be fine. “So not the point, and don’t get too excited. I’m strictly PG these days.”
Jase turned in his seat—quite the feat for him—and his eyes shone like he was going to make another joke. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Seriously,” he finally said, turning away from her again. “I respect what you aim to do. I like working with you though, and I hope things won’t be awkward.”
“Not at all. And I hope only wanting to be friends isn’t a problem.”
“Not at all,” he echoed.
“Great.” She raised her hand from the wheel to give him a friendly fist-bump. As their eyes and fists connected, an embarrassing spark surged through Aisha. Jase evidently felt it too—quickly, self-consciously, yanking his hand back.
Aisha cranked the radio. The remainder of the drive home was conspicuously loud and eye-contact free.