Page 45 of Aim for Love

“Give her a minute, Nora,” Sophie hisses.

“I’m going to listen to my own voice, you guys,” I say quietly. “The two of you can’t decide things for me.”

Clearing my throat, I straighten my shoulders. That voice is still quiet, but I’m starting to be able to hear it better. And I’m determined to let it get loud.

Dorothy knows me now when I come into the coffee shop. It’s one of my proudest accomplishments on this trip. I had no idea how satisfying it was to be known by the people around me, not just be another face in the crowd or woman catcalled on the street.

Taking my order to the table by the front window, I sit down and wait. I was early, but Hunter arrives not long after me. Long and lanky, he slides into the chair across from me, then hops back up to order a muffin.

I’m nervous. I know what I need to say, and I’m also worried emotions will get in the way. So I dive in before asking him how he is or what he’s thinking. “So, I’ve decided to move,” I squeak out.

He raises his eyebrows. “Where?”

“Here.” I clear my throat when he blinks back at me. “I am going to work with Mr. Smith.”

“Mr. Rogers?”

“What? No, Roger Smith.”

“Sorry. Right. People in town call him Mr. Rogers because of the sweaters. Never mind.” Hunter seems nervous, too. Not in the happy, excited way I’d hoped for. “Don’t you have a job?”

That’s a bad sign. Does hewantme to leave? “I have a job I hate. In a city I hate. I like it here.”

He licks his lips. “This isn’t because…” His brow bunches. He runs a hand through his hair and strands of it come loose from his bun. “Because of me?”

I know what he wants me to say. “No!” But it’s also true. The way this town has welcomed me—from the blueberry and lemon curd muffins Dorothy now always has ready for me to thelawyers who open their doors for no reason—means as much to me as Hunter calling mesweet and spicy. I can be the me I want to be here.

“It doesn’t have to be a thing,” I insist. “We can just be people who, you know, say hello in the coffee shop.” That wasn’t what I intended to say when I arrived at this coffee shop, after practicing my “what if we try?” speech. With the worried expression on Hunter’s face, how can I not reassure him?

“OK…” He frowns and looks out the window at the people passing on the street. “Are you sure about this? I mean, it’s not always the easiest place to live. The winters are long and it’s expensive.”

Even though I told myself I didn’t expect his reaction to be “now we can be together, yey,” I’m still gutted by his lack of enthusiasm. Doesn’t he want me here, at least a little bit?

The lump of tears goes down hard when I swallow. “Yes, I mean. I want to try it.” Then I can’t think of anything else to say after that.

“Well, you are the best at trying things,” he says, with a little smile that I try to take as encouragement. We both look at the table for an excruciating beat of silence. I force myself to take a drink of my latte.

“Right. So. I wanted you to know,” I say finally.

“I hope you’ll keep up your axe-throwing and mountain biking while you’re here.”

“That’s the hope!” My voice is overly perky, but I can’t help it. This conversation is like drowning. I’m so excited about my new plans, and they suddenly feel so lonely without even the assurance of one friend in this town.

“Well, I’ll be around. If you need to practice.” He nods to himself and eats the last of his muffin. I know what he thinks. He thinks I’m latching onto him like a stalker. That’s more or lessthe impression Nora and Sophie gave him. And I can’t let him think that. I can’t let that be the reality.

OK, I need to let him go. Hunter doesn’t owe me anything. He expected this to be a one-week fling. Now he has to be nice and tip his hat to me when he sees me around town. “That’d be great, but no pressure,” I offer.I’ll die a little inside every time I see you and can’t touch you. Every time my mental map of your body fades a little bit more.

We smile at each other politely for a few more moments before Hunter stands. I watch him throw his wrapper and napkin away, unable to move from the table. Then he says, “I’ll see you around, Mollie. Let me know if you need anything.” And he leaves.

I’m staring blankly at my empty latte mug when Dorothy comes up to the table and sets down a croissant. “On the house, honey,” she says. “You look like you could use something sweet.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Of course.” She places her palm on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’re one of us and we take care of our own, here. Welcome home.”

Nora and Sophie called my mother. Now they’re packing to leave while my mom is on her way here, and they’re satisfied they “did the right thing” and aren’t leaving me “to my own devices.”

They still think I’m only doing this for Hunter. I tried to explain that Hunter and I aren’t going to last past the week, and Sophie shook her head. “That’s what you say, but it’s not what youthink.”

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