Mom agreed to come to my place for dinner the following Sunday, and when Friday rolled around, I decided to do a thorough cleaning of my condo from bathroom to hallway. Sometimes, my busy schedule meant I let the clutter build up, and I wasn’t going to let some old magazines stand in the way of Mom getting to know George. I was convinced that if she could just spend a little more time with him, she’d start to like him. She’d see how safe, how…dependable he was.
I needed to convince Mom she ought to forget Robert. And I needed to convince myself to forget about him, too. He was out of the picture, done. Though that didn’t stop me from thinking about him from time to time, wondering how he was doing or if he’d even given me a second thought.
I remembered his indifferent tone on the phone. He hadn’t texted or called since that conversation. This just confirms the fact he was never serious about me.
As I cleaned dishes, I felt a pool of water leak near my toes on the kitchen floor. I shut off the tap and then swung open the cabinet beneath my sink. Sure enough, a steady trickle poured from the pipe, dribbling down to the cabinet and running off onto my floor. Duke came over to inspect the floor, sniffing at the puddle.
“No, Duke,” I told him. “That’s not drinking water.”
I frowned. I glanced at the clock and realized it might be too late to call a plumber. If I did, I’d be charged after-hour fees. Right then, my phone rang. George called me every day about this time, which I found comforting, and especially reassuring on a day like today.
“Hey, George.” I cradled the phone between my shoulder and cheek, as I grabbed some tea towels to mop up the mess.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. Points to him for picking up the stress in my voice. That was considerate.
“My sink is leaking. And it’s spreading all over the floor. I’ll have to call a plumber and…”
“Wait,” George said. “I’ll be right over. Maybe I can fix it. Do you have a toolbox?”
I thought about Dad’s old toolbox, the one I’d inherited when he died. Mom said I ought to have it, since she already had a whole shed in the backyard filled with Dad’s other tools. Dad was one of the handiest people around, and he seemed to be forever tinkering with something in the workshop in the garage. Mom never used it, opting to call the neighborhood handyman whenever something needed fixing. She’d cleaned out most of the tools a few years ago to make room for more storage, and that was when she’d sent me home with Dad’s red metal toolbox. I’d used it often. I was pretty sure whatever George needed would be in there.
“I do,” I said.
“Then I’ll be right over. Ten minutes tops.”
George actually arrived in seven. He was wearing a three-piece suit, back to the vest, tie and jacket. He took off his suit coat and rolled up his white, crisply pressed sleeves. Duke, I noticed, steered clear of George, which wasn’t like him. Normally, Duke bounded up to any guest, eager for a pat on the head. I guessed Duke remembered his awkward introduction to George, who clearly wasn’t a dog person. I stared at Duke, and he studied me with his dark brown eyes. I imagined he was thinking, Where’s Robert? Why’s this guy back?
“George, I can’t thank you enough for this,” I said. I glanced at his expensive suit. “Are you sure you don’t mind getting that dirty?”
“Not at all,” he said as he grabbed a wrench and got to work. He lay down on my kitchen floor and inspected the pipes. I wondered if the man even owned grub clothes. I’d never seen him wear anything that didn’t look brand new.
“Is it bad?” I asked him, hoping he could manage to fix it. I was also impressed that he was lying on my floor, expensive vest and matching pants and all.
“Don’t you worry,” George said. “I see where it’s coming from. I’ll have it as good as new in no time.”
He cranked the wrench a few more times. Water sprayed out suddenly from the pipe, splashing George right in the face. He yelped.
“Should I call a plumber?”
“No,” he said, straining as he tightened the pipe. He swiped at his forehead with his sleeve. “I think I got it. Just give me a second.”
He grunted once more as he strained to tighten the pipe. He let out a triumphant little yelp and pulled himself up to his feet. “There you go,” he said as he wiped his hands on a tea towel.
“Thanks,” I said, sincerely grateful. He’d probably just saved me from a five-hundred-dollar plumber’s bill. “This is so nice of you,” I went on, meaning it. “I don’t know why I’m surprised because I should have expected it. You’re so dependable, and I know I can really rely on you.” Unlike Robert, who disappears in the middle of the night. “I love that.”
“Well, thank you.” George smiled at me. Were we sharing a moment? He took one step closer, and then I knew: we were definitely sharing a moment. Was he about to kiss me?
Duke let out a low growl. Nothing too mean, just a warning. Back off my mom, he seemed to be telling George. The message hit its intended target. George took a step back, looking uneasily at my dog.
“Duke,” I warned him, wondering what had come over him. He’d never growled at anyone. Not once. “Behave.”
“It’s all right. He’s just being protective,” George said, thankfully not taking offense.
“The more time he spends with you, the more he’ll warm up to you,” I promised, even though I wasn’t sure why Duke hadn’t already warmed up to him. Duke was a people dog. He liked everyone—except, it seemed, George. I frowned at my golden retriever.
“I’m sure he will,” George agreed, though he eyed my dog with some suspicion. “Well, sink problem fixed. Anything else?”
“If only you knew how to install snow tires.” That was the next to-do on my list.
“Cassandra.” George’s eyes grew wide with concern. “You really need to get that done by a professional.” His tone made me think I was a little girl again and I’d just gotten in trouble for sneaking a cookie before dinner. “The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety recommends that radials are used all year round now.”
“Interesting. Did they tell you this personally?” I teased.
“As a matter of fact, they did.” He was dead serious. Oh, geez. They actually had.
“Um, right. I’ll…uh, make sure I do that.”
Saturday, I hit the tire shop, first thing. I didn’t want George bringing it up over dinner with Mom on Sunday. If she found his obsession with piñata-hitting rules bothersome, I knew she’d go ballistic over him lecturing me about my car tires. Mom believed she’d raised independent daughters and didn’t like to be told otherwise, and George’s “I know best” attitude wouldn’t be well received.
Sure, George could be…well, serious and a little too focused on the rules, but wasn’t that a good thing for me? I’d let the tires slide for months, and winter was in full swing. This was Denver. It’s not like we ever had a snow-free winter. George wanted to make sure I was safe, and maybe I needed someone to look after me.
The tire guy with the mustache and big grin was nice as he filled out my paperwork at the mechanic’s office. Their sign above the register listed the usual suspects: muffler, tires, transmission—anything and everything. He looked at his computer, searching for my tires, and then clucked his tongue.
“Miss Brand,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not going to believe this, but we ran out of rubber.”
“What?” I didn’t understand. They were a tire shop, right?
“Just kidding,” the tire guy said, almost apologetically. “Little tire humor. But not funny.”
No, it could’ve been funny. Geez…was George rubbing off on me? Had I lost my sense of humor?
I pushed the unkind thought away. Sure, George wasn’t playful. He didn’t crack jokes—or acknowledge them, actually—but he was reliable and dependable, and I was certain he’d never hurt me.
“We don’t have your tires in stock, but we can get them here in a couple of hours. Would you be willing to wait?”
“Ahhh…”
A couple of hours seemed like a drag, but then again, so did listening to George tell me about his buddies at the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety.
“Coffee and a couch that way.” The tire guy pointed down the hall. I glanced at the all-but-packed waiting room. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who’d put off the snow tire switch.
“You know what? I’ll go for a walk and come back,” I said and headed toward the door and the frigid winter air.
Outside, the majestic Rocky Mountains sprang up beside the small tire dealer, and I glanced up at their snowcapped peaks. They never ceased to amaze me. I felt so lucky to live in a place so gorgeous. Then I looked around and saw…Robert.
Ack!
He stood less than three feet from me, hanging a poster promoting a Lantern Festival across one of the shop’s glass windows. He looked so good—brown hair perfectly swept back, broad shoulders as wide as I remembered, dark eyes fixed on his project. He’d notice me any second as he seemed about to secure the last bit of tape on the edge of the poster. I scooted by him, head down, using my smartphone as a little shield. It didn’t work.
“No, no, no,” he called after me, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, his breath coming out in white puffs. “If you want to hide from me, you’re going to have to run faster than that.”
I froze, cringed, and turned. Nothing about this was awkward at all, was it? I loved running into handsome men who’d deserted me in the wee hours of the morning. Charming men I dated and then dumped.
“Robert,” I said, trying to act like I hadn’t noticed him when obviously I had. “What are you doing here?”
A sly smile crept onto Robert’s face. He didn’t seem angry to see me. Odd.
“Hi,” he said, and I felt my insides go warm and gooey. Those eyes…I’d forgotten their effect on me. “Getting my transmission worked on. You?”
“Tires,” I murmured, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. A biting chill laced the air, but I barely felt it—not while Robert looked at me.
“Ah.” Robert rocked back on his heels. “So, here we wait…together.” He put a lot of emphasis on that last word.
“Mmm-hmmm.” I pressed my lips together. Would I be waiting here with Robert for two hours? This might have gone from awkward to unbearable. Ugh. I felt like a jerk for ending it with him like I did, but then again, hadn’t he skipped out on me that morning?
“So, our last date…”
Oh, no. Here we go with the post-relationship analysis. Panic rose in my throat. The only thing I hated more than talking about feelings was talking about relationships.
“…was bad,” Robert finished.
“Maybe,” I agreed, thinking more about Robert sneaking out and less about the ambulance ride.
“It was bad, but you know what? It wasn’t my worst date ever,” he said. “I once went on a date with a woman who had a warrant out for her arrest. I kid you not. Sheriff’s deputies took her right before dessert.”
“Oh, I can top that.” I fell into conversation with Robert as if we’d never broken up. “I had a blind date with an older guy. Turned out, he was thirty years older. He fell asleep at dinner, and I had to save him from drowning in his mashed potatoes.”
Robert laughed, and so did I. Goodness, I loved his laugh, deep and rich, like I imagine chocolate might sound. I missed this. I missed the banter, and, frankly, I missed laughing. I didn’t do that a lot with George.
“That’s bad,” Robert agreed. “But at least you didn’t have to go to the emergency room.”
“Oh, I didn’t mind that,” I said. “Gotta put my health insurance to use, or why have it?”
Robert grinned.
“But…I thought maybe you hated that date more than me,” I said, unable to stop myself. “Since you left without saying good-bye.”
Robert blanched. “I left a note.”
What? “You did?”
“Right on your coffee table, near the side with Duke’s bed…”
I froze as I realized what had probably happened. Duke had gotten up sometime in the early morning and knocked off the note. Maybe he’d even eaten it. My dog did like to chew things. Or, more likely, I’d find it under my couch.
Ugh. I was such an idiot.
“So you didn’t sneak out?” Robert hadn’t hurt me on purpose. He hadn’t intended on hurting me at all. Robert had never snuck out. He’d left a note.
“No!” Robert shook his head hard, brown hair flopping. “I had to go let Daisy out, and the poor dog was doing a potty dance when I got home. I left a note asking you to call, and saying I was sorry for barging into your house and babysitting you, and that I’d let you make the next move. But you didn’t.” Robert rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I guess that’s because you never got the note.”
Suddenly, I felt like garbage. The reason he hadn’t texted for two days was because he was giving me space…because he thought I might be mad he’d insisted on staying overnight. Robert had cared. I could tell by the way he looked at me now. I realized it hadn’t just been about having a note or not having it. I’d kicked Robert to the curb because I’d wanted Dr. Susie to be right. The whirlwind of emotions Robert dredged up scared me.
“I’m sorry things ended the way they did,” I said, hoping he believed me. “And to be honest, it’s nothing you did. It’s me.”
“Really?” Robert raised his eyebrows, looking skeptical. It’s not you, it’s me.
“I know how that sounds,” I said. “But it’s true. See…I always go for the same type of guy…a guy like you. Funny, handsome, charming.” I thought of all that Robert had in common with my exes. “And it never works out.”
Usually because they bolted—or I did—before things got too serious. Actually, thinking about it, I’d done most of the bolting. In fact, I think I’d broken up with ninety percent of those guys. Maybe Dr. Susie was right: I was the commitment-phobe.
I said, “I just need to start making better decisions in that department.”
Robert cocked his head to one side. “So, instead of giving me a chance, you decided to sabotage any possibility at a relationship.”
Wow, when he put it like that, I sounded like a real jerk. But he wasn’t wrong.
“Yep, pretty much.” I sighed. “I’m just…” Now probably wouldn’t be the time to tell him that I’d turned over all life choices to Dr. Susie. “I’m trying to change the way I choose relationships, and you just happened to get caught up in the middle of that. So, I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Robert said, nodding and looking at his shoes. “Well, thank you for your honesty.”
“Yeah.” I still felt like a jerk, though.
“Okay, so we can both stand here, waiting, probably endlessly,” Robert said, another sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Or…there’s a bowling alley up the street. We could go bowl away our boredom.”
I thought about George. I thought about dinner tomorrow with Mom. I also thought about how much I wanted to go. But…I shouldn’t. What’s done was done.
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Actually, I did know for sure: it was a terrible idea. I could feel the electric current of attraction snapping between us. I still wondered what it would be like to kiss Robert. And wasn’t I dating George now? I mean, we technically hadn’t had the “we’re exclusive” talk yet, but I’d specifically broken things off with Robert so I could focus on George. Bowling with Robert didn’t seem likely to help me do that.
“Okay,” Robert said, nodding and shrugging one shoulder. “Well, I’m gonna go, but you can stay right here. I mean, this parking lot looks like a lot of fun. And that…” He gestured to the near-to-bursting waiting room with a crying toddler pushing his button nose against the glass window. “That looks like fun, too.”
Well, he had a point there. I didn’t want to wait in the cold or in the crowded waiting room.
“Fine, I’ll go,” I said. “But only as a friend.”
“Okay, friends it is,” Robert agreed.
The bowling alley sat less than a block from the dealership. We walked in, and instantly, I knew I’d have a blast. REO Speedwagon blared from the speakers, and it almost felt like fate had a hand in this place.
“You’ve got to pay your way now,” Robert said. “You’re in the friend zone.”
I laughed a little. I’d forgotten what a good sport Robert was and how he never let anything get him down for long. Just like Dad. Dad probably would’ve adored Robert if he’d lived to meet him. He would’ve been an even bigger fan than Mom. Of this, I had no doubt.
We began our game, and when a waiter bustled by, Robert ordered French fries. “Want anything?” he asked me.
“No,” I said. The menu was a nutritionist’s disaster: French fries, cheese sticks, and hot dogs. Nothing came with a single fruit or vegetable, unless you counted ketchup.
I rolled the ball and hit all the pins but one. As I set up for a second turn, tucking the yellow ball to my chin, Robert booed, trying to distract me.
“Quiet,” I admonished. “I want to hear a pin drop.”
“Pfft.” Robert rolled his eyes. “Spare me.”
Unfazed, I reared back and let the bowling ball fly. It rolled down the lane and smacked right into the last remaining pin. That was how to pull out a spare.
“Nice shot,” Robert admitted.
“Thanks. Well, I was sixth grade bowling champion. I’ve got a trophy to prove it.” Dad had been so proud of me that day. Bowling was his game.
The waiter returned with a piping hot basket of French fries. The smell hit my nose and my stomach protested. It might not be chocolate cake, but I was hungry. I sat next to Robert and reached over to grab a fry, but he playfully bobbed and weaved, keeping the basket away from me.
“Oh, no, no, no. I don’t share my food with ‘friends.’”
Touché. “Well…fine. Be a French fry hog.”
“You can call me what you want,” Robert declared. “I am not sharing my food anymore.”
He sounded playful, but maybe sharing food had meant something to him. Maybe it wasn’t as easy for him to share as I’d thought. Maybe he was more like me, territorial with his food, but he’d liked me so much he’d given in.
I glanced at the scoreboard on the screen above our heads. “It’s your turn,” I pointed out. “What are you going to do about your fries?”
“Watch.” Robert sprang up, holding the basket in one hand, and grabbed his bowling ball with the other. He wasn’t really going to bowl like that, was he?
“Really?” I challenged.
“Really.” He let the ball fly, but it rattled into the gutter.
“Oh! Gutter ball.” I gave him a slow, sarcastic clap. “Oh, that’s a shame. But you know what? I’ll give you a do-over for some fries.”
“Nope.” Robert wasn’t budging. “I’m going to keep my gutter ball and keep my tasty fries.” He popped one into his mouth to rub it in.
But I wasn’t giving up on those fries. My stomach growled. It demanded one, even as he rolled his second ball, which only knocked down two pins.
“How about we share the fries and…” I tried to think of an angle. “And the loser pays for them?”
Robert barked a laugh. “Why do I feel like I’m being hustled?”
Because he was. My sixth-grade bowling trophy was no fluke. “Do we have a deal?”
“Uh, sure. Okay. It’s your turn.” Robert moved back so I could grab my ball. Victory was mine.
“This is where I get my revenge,” I declared, picking up my trusty yellow ball. Robert set down his fries and then jumped in front of me as if to block me.
“What are you doing?” I couldn’t help but giggle. He looked ridiculous, waving his arms as if he planned to deflect a basketball.
“Playing defense,” Robert declared.
“But we’re bowling.”
“Yeah? There’s a whole basket of tasty fries at stake.”
“Yeah, but I’m holding a bowling ball,” I said. “I could hurt you.” Like, seriously. I tried to imagine George doing something so reckless and couldn’t. He’d probably lecture me on the dangers of bowling injuries and opt to take me to the opera instead.
“If you bowl like you putt, I think I’m safe. I’ll take my chances.” Robert continued to bob back and forth in front of me. He went right and then left, arms outstretched, and I found no way to get around him. So, I ducked and rolled the ball straight between his legs. We both watched as the ball made its way precariously down the lane…and knocked over all the pins. Strike!
I jumped up and shouted. “Yesss!” I punched Robert on the shoulder. “This is why cheating will never get you anywhere in life.”
Oh, geez. Did a George quote just pop out of my mouth?
Robert looked as surprised as I felt. One eyebrow rose on his face as if to say, Since when do you care about the rules? “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Neither could I. Was I becoming like George? Even if he was rubbing off on me, shouldn’t that make me glad? Instead, it made me uneasy.
“You’re up,” I said quickly, hoping to gloss over the fact I’d just taken on the role of “Stickler for the Rules” when Robert clearly never gave rules a second thought—except how to creatively break them. “Are you ready?”
I took my spot playing defense. It was my turn to mess with his shot. I wasn’t George, and I’d prove it.
“Come on,” I dared him.
He tucked his ball under his chin and grinned. He grabbed me with one arm and pulled me into a half hug as he let his ball fly. I’d forgotten how tall—how broad—Robert was. He pulled me into his body as if I was a little kid. The ball, however, hit the gutter again and rolled harmlessly into the back without connecting with a single pin, though he didn’t look like he much cared.
“This is why you should never cheat,” I managed to say softly, struggling against his arm but failing. He had me in a tight grip. I wasn’t going anywhere. He wrapped his other hand around to keep me in place. He felt so warm and strong, and I liked how close we were. He smelled good, too. Like cinnamon and something sweet. I stopped struggling and he moved back from me so we were face-to-face. Oh, boy. Those eyes. And his full lips. I’d never kissed him, and I wanted to know what that was like.
He came closer and I let him. I wanted this.
He laid his lips on mine, and a current ran straight to my toes. Oh, he was a talented kisser, just like I’d knew he’d be. He put his big hands on the small of my back and pulled me into him as he deepened the kiss. Soft, insistent, but with a simmering heat that surprised me. The rest of the bowling alley melted away, and suddenly, all that mattered was Robert—his lips on mine, his hands on my waist. My whole brain lit up in a series of exploding fireworks. How long did we kiss? Two seconds? An hour? Time seemed to shift and no longer mattered. All that mattered was being in Robert’s arms. I never wanted it to stop.
I could do this forever. Would do this forever, except…George.
Dr. Susie had picked George, not Robert. I was backsliding into my old ways. I had to remain strong.
My eyes flew open and I pulled away. I saw Robert panting and realized I was too. So, he’d felt the fireworks as well.
“I’m sorry. I-I can’t.” It wasn’t fair to George.
Robert wiped his bottom lip. “You sure?”
No, I wasn’t sure at all. Every fiber in my being wanted to stay right here with Robert and kiss him again. But I couldn’t. I scrambled away from him and grabbed my coat and purse, suddenly lightheaded. Was that from the kiss?
“Thank you for the game,” I blurted, even as I saw Robert looking confused, standing at the edge of the lane. He let me go. He didn’t try to stop me. I took one last look at him as I traded my bowling shoes in for my snow boots. His dark eyes never left me as I headed for the door.