XO
Sophie
seen each other for more than three weeks. She’s a busy medical and health services manager who dedicates her time off to CrossFit and her fiancé, Jim. Seriously, her two hobbies are gym and Jim. Sometimes I question which she loves more. Between our jobs and her training, our free time to catch up is in short supply. So today, we’re setting a few hours aside to have a girls’ day. Except Wilson is joining us. That point was non-negotiable for me since he’s been with Celeste every day this week. Ashlyn isn’t an animal lover, though. Not unless they’re seasoned and in a low-carb burrito.
We meet at the entrance of Froning’s Farmers’ Market, where she greets me with a radiant smile. She’s wearing casual leggings and a cropped sweater. She looks like an Icelandic goddess, with her long ice blonde hair tied in a ponytail, bright blue eyes, and muscles that are the envy of many—myself included. Her six-pack abs are a sight to behold. This girl is never asking a man to open a jar.
“Giiiiirl, I’ve missed you so much.” Ashlyn pulls me in for a hug, nearly choking me with her python-like arms.
When she releases me, I have to shake out my shoulders. “You’ve got to stamp a warning on those guns of yours. Squeezing people like they’re sandbags. Sheesh.”
She chuckles, grabbing my hand to pull me into the market. “Sorry, I’m three weeks out from my first competition in Montreal.”
“That’s exciting. Do you feel ready? You look ready.”
We stop at a booth that features fresh flowers and produce, and Ashlyn replies, “Yes and no. I’m as ready as I can be, but I don’t think I stand a chance. It will just be a fun experience to say I did.”
“I think it’s amazing. You’ve put in a lot of work.”
She picks up a bundle of spinach, inspecting the leaves. “Thanks. So what’s new with you? That hot brother of yours ready to take me on a date yet?”
“Those are two entirely different questions, and I’m not sure Jim would appreciate the latter.” I laugh at her longtime crush on my brother, whom she’s met once in person because of his extended time in Europe, but asks about every time I see her. “You’d be hard pressed to find Caleb outside of work for long enough to date.”
“What is it with you McNamara people and your work hours? Do none of you know there’s more to life? You all make me feel like a slacker because I only work forty hours.”
I shrug because that’s just how we are. Long hours, working toward goals, smashing the competition. We may not stand on the podium for the CrossFit Games, but we’re competitive in our own ways.
We each purchase some items from various booths through the market as we maintain easy conversation. I hear about the last few dates Jim has taken her on—mostly fitness themed—and their plans for a destination wedding in Jamaica next year. She asks about my dating life and insists I’d love Embers, the dating app of the future. I maintain my strict anti-online-dating position. I also wrestle with the idea of telling her about Boyd, but that would also require me confessing to my little—okay, big—lie.
Wilson is capturing the attention of so many people as we stroll, we’re stopping every twenty feet for him to greet someone and get some stranger loving. Before I know it, we’ve walked through the entire market, and we’re headed south toward Queen Street.
After checking her phone, Ashlyn asks, “Do you want to grab a coffee or something?”
“Sure. If we can find somewhere with a patio still open. I can’t take Wilson in.” There’s really no question if somewhere nearby has an open patio. I know there is. I know this because I’ve been there multiple times.
Just Add Coffee comes into view, as do their patio tables.
“Oh, look. That one’s cute.” Ashlyn claps like she’s created the café out of thin air and she’s celebrating her accomplishment.
Again, she grabs onto my hand, even though I’m juggling fresh flowers for Celeste and Wilson’s leash with one arm and a bag full of market fares in the other. Her conditioned grip strength allows her to hold all of her purchases in one hand and squeeze mine with the other. I’d say she’s ready for her competition. Especially if friend-dragging is an event.
Once we cross the street, we stand side by side, looking into the café windows.
“Do you want to go in and look at the menu, or should I just get you a flat white?” Ashlyn asks, holding her hands over her eyes to block the sun’s glare on the windows.
If I’m being honest with myself, it’s not the menu I want to check out. But I hold back from being truthful with my best friend. “I’ll go in to look. I’m not sure what I want. You go first, though. I’ll save us a table and tie up Wilson.”
“Ugh, I guess I’ll have to watch your beast. You owe me.” She flicks her long ponytail over her shoulder and walks inside while I chuckle at her back.
As I wait, I set down my market purchases and tie my curly labradoodle to the base of one of the heavy tables. He plops down at my feet, panting like this is the best day of his life. I love that about him; every day is a new day, and each one has the potential to be amazing. I wish I could absorb some of his optimistic nature. For now, I’ll just scratch his ears and enjoy his for a moment.
“There is a tall, broody, tan, drool-worthy drink of water in there that could have me leaving Jim at the altar.” Ashlyn drops into the chair across from me and fans herself with a stack of napkins.
My stomach clenches when I take in what she’s saying. I mean, that pretty much sums up my impression of Boyd from the few times I’ve been here. There’s also no lineup inside, so if I go in, I’ll have to interact with him. Last time I was here with Caleb, things were awkward. I was so worried Caleb would blow my lie wide open, because he kept teasing me. Brothers.
Just go in, order a drink, and get out.
I stand and brush off my skinny jeans—more to dry my palms than fix my pants. “Okay, I’ll be back in a second.”
“Girl, get his number. If not for you, for me.”
“Poor Jim.” I laugh as I walk inside and see the back of a familiar head. I make it all the way to the counter before he turns around.
“Hey.” His voice is an octave above normal. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I pause for a few seconds, staring at him. “It’s quiet in here today.”
“Usually is on Saturday afternoons.” His face shifts from cordial, at best, to indifferent. “What can I get you?”
The change in his demeanour is weird, but when I think back to previous encounters, considering I shot him down when he asked me out, I can’t expect him to give me a welcome hug. We’ve exchanged little more than pleasantries otherwise.
“What do you suggest? I always get the same thing, but I could use a little variety.” I attempt to appeal to his love of all things coffee, hoping that will improve our interaction.
“Cold or hot?”
“Hot.” It’s October. Only a lunatic would sit outside and drink iced coffee.
“How do you feel about pumpkin spice?”
“I’d rather you gag me with a toilet plunger,” I deadpan. That came out before I put any thought into it, and now I’m ready to flee. Again.
Boyd’s boisterous laughter stalls me in place. He continues for far too long. “I’m sorry. That’s a new one. Pumpkin spice is a polarizing option, but…” He trails off as he starts laughing again. Like he’s bottled it up for the last decade, and it’s finally bursting out.
We’re interrupted by a loud, “Oy, girl! What’s taking you so long? Your dog keeps trying to make me pet him, and I. Don’t. Want. To.”
I glance back at Ashlyn, who is half in, half out of the door. She is incapable of expressing indifference, so her annoyance is clear.
“I’m coming. Just discussing my options.” I direct a pointed look at her, hoping she’ll slink back outside.
“Yeah, you are.” She releases the door, but before it closes, she shouts, “Get it, girl!”
I turn back and grimace at Boyd, hopeful he didn’t hear that. “Don’t mind her. She’s high on endorphins.”
Boyd’s residual laughter is fading, but a small smile remains. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had all day. All month.” He spins around, toward the coffee paraphernalia, and continues, “How about salted caramel? Vanilla? Hazelnut?”
“Any of the above.”
He hums a response, then starts fiddling with the equipment, pouring, shaking, and sprinkling. “You have a dog?”
“Yeah. My baby, Wilson. He’s a labradoodle.”
“A what?”
“Labradoodle? A cross between a labrador and a poodle.”
He hands me a takeout cup he just filled with a mysterious concoction and replies, “Water?”
I feel my eyebrows collapse together as I swing my shoulder bag around so I can grab my wallet. “Water?”
He didn’t just do all that work to hand me water.
“For Wilson. Does he need water?”
That offer is really touching. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”
He brushes off my attempt to hand him cash. “My treat. You don’t even know if you like it. I’ll bring water out in a second.”
Instead of arguing, I tuck the cash in the tip jar, smile, nod, and walk outside before Ashlyn gifts Wilson to the next pedestrian to pass by. He’s the only guy I’m seeing, and it is serious. I better not lose out on him, too.