Page 41 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

I think I need a new phone number – and a new phone. I’ll text you from the new one when I get it.

Grabbing her shoes, she saved her file and slipped out the door. Ignoring any other chimes and the phone calls coming in, she went straight to the nearest cellular phone center.

“Parlez vous anglaise?”She asked openly, hoping for a little easier time at getting this taken care of. The attendants glanced at each other as a woman walked forward.

“Hi,” Jeannie began nervously. “I need to get a local phone number – and a different phone line.” And her phone beeped again as the screen illuminated that it was her father texting again.

“Do you need that?” the woman asked her pointedly.

“I really don’t,” Jeannie admitted, feeling a pang of loss as well as an overwhelming sense of relief as she realized it was true. “I think I’m better off without reading it – which is why I’m here.”

“Of course.”

An hour later, Jeannie had a new phone, a new local phone number, a case, and accessories, and was walking out of the shop toward her car when she paused in front of the next building.

Ten minutes later, she was smiling happily as she walked out with a bag that looked like something out of a wedding magazine, marveling at the veil she had fallen in love in the shop. She was almost at her vehicle when she paused once more, seeing Matthieu’s jersey in the window. Ducking inside, she saw several of the Wolverines hockey jerseys lining the wall, framed and on display, and took a photo of Matthieu’s.

You should come sign this.

I cannot tell you how proud I am to see your name up there right now.

BTW, this is my new cell phone number. XOXO

Looking around the store, she smiled at all of the hockey equipment, T-shirts, and bumper stickers. The Wolverines were making a splash in Quebec, and it was obvious… and paused. There was a display in the corner that caught her eye – and suddenly, she had an idea.

“Excusez-moi monsieur, pouvez-vous m'aider avec ça?”Jeannie said carefully, wincing as she was certain she had butchered the pronunciation. A moment later, she let out a sigh of relief as the man nodded, rushing to her side to make a sale.

It was late when she finished up and headed to the house.

Pulling into the garage, Jeannie frowned at the sight of Matthieu’s car parked beside hers. A ripple of unease stirred in her chest, a pang of déjà vu curling around her ribs.

He hadn’t called.

He hadn’t texted.

Had he forgottenagain?

She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself before stepping inside. The moment she crossed the threshold, the rich scent of Italian food enveloped her—tomato sauce simmering with herbs, the salty tang of melted cheese, the inviting warmth offreshly baked bread. It should have felt comforting, but there was something about the way Matthieu sat on the couch, his back to the door, utterly still, that made her hesitate.

Something wasn’t right.

Taking a few cautious steps forward, she noticed the glow of her laptop screen illuminating his face. Her breath caught.

He was looking at her laptop?

Why?

A flicker of apprehension curled in her belly as she took another step, and then forced her voice to remain steady. “What’s going on?” she asked, unable to mask the hesitation in her tone. “I thought you were going to call…”

Matthieu turned to face her, his expression stunned, as if she had caught him in the middle of a revelation.

“You build… websites?” His voice held a note of astonishment, his dark eyes locked onto hers.

Jeannie faltered, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah,” she admitted warily. “Why are you snooping in my stuff?”

“I’m not snooping—well, I guess I am,” he conceded with a sheepish smile. “But I wanted to see what you worked on, and… Jeannie, I’m stunned. You’re incredible.”

She blinked, her pulse stuttering.

---