Page 10 of Love Fast

“Thank you, Byron.” She narrows her eyes.

I hold up the key, which is attached by a chain to an oak disk with Star Falls Cabins etched on it. “Welcome to Star Falls, Rosey,” I say, sounding like the head of tourism for this tiny town I’ve avoided for so long.

My insides twang at how warm and entirely genuine the smile she beams at me is. I love New York, but it’s full of fake smiles. My gut tells me there’s nothing fake about this woman.

I realize I’m staring at her, so I give her a two-fingered salute and head back to my cabin.

Inside, I busy myself, turn on the TV and grab a tub of leftover curry I have in the refrigerator. I can’t get Rosey’s smile out of my head. Nothing can stop the images of her flashing through my brain. Where did she come from? Who was she going to marry? Why did she run away? Her escape clearly wasn’t planned, since she had nothing with her but the clothes on her back. Herweddingclothes.

Shit, she’s got nothing to change into.

I slide the cold curry onto the counter and head into my bedroom, pulling out a couple of t-shirts and some joggers. They’ll be comically large on her, but at least she’ll have something other than her wedding dress to wear tomorrow.

I stride over to her cabin, but pause as I get to the porch steps. I don’t often question myself, but I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by disturbing her. I’m no Good Samaritan. My reaction to Rosey isn’t normal for me. First giving up my privacy to give her a place to stay and now making sure she has a change of clothes? Is this who I am in Star Falls, or has Rosey sweeping into town shifted things somehow?

I have no explanation, but she answers the door as soon as I knock, like she’s been waiting.

“Just in case you needed a change of clothes. They’ll be too big, but at least…”

Her face is full of confusion, and for a second I wish I’d stayed the fuck in my cabin and finished the curry instead of trying to help.

“That’s so kind of you,” she says, like no one’s done anything kind for her in her life. “You’re a good man, Byron.” Her tone hits me right in the center of my chest. I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but I’m not surekindorgoodhave made it to the top of the list. Somehow, when she says it, that’s how I feel. I get the urge to do more. To offer to cook her dinner, run her a bath, do something—anything—else.

Instead, I nod and turn away before I make an epic fool of myself. “Sleep well, Rosey.”

I need to get to bed myself. Maybe a night of rest will help quiet all these strange…urgesI’m having. By tomorrow morning, the runaway bride will probably have moved on and I’ll never see her again. She’ll learn soon enough that Star Falls is a place you runfrom—notto.

FIVE

Rosey

Thank god I didn’t throw my cellphone away in the airport trash, like I considered doing. For some reason I thought Frank would chase after me, aided by the GPS embedded in my phone. Then I remembered I don’t live in a spy thriller. Why would a man I humiliated come after me? He probably hopes I’m dead right about now.

The upside of having my phone is being able to figure out there’s an outdoor supply store in town that opens at nine. I slept in my dress because I couldn’t face putting it back on in the morning, even though Byron was kind enough to give me a change of clothes. And a wedding dress covers me slightly more than Byron’s tee—any way I cut it, I’d look like an escapee from an asylum. But I can’t go another moment wearing it, which is why I’ve been standing outside Snail Trail for the past fifteen minutes. Me and a gigantic moose. Not a real one, of course. It’s as tall as me and painted glossy brown, with large cartoon eyes and antlers that obscure a chunk of the Snail Trail window.

A woman with a bright red sweater comes to the glass door, flips the Closed sign to Open, and unlocks the door. I can’t get in there quick enough. I don’t have a ton of savings, but over the years, I’ve managed to put a little away. Mom would always take the majority of our paychecks. For rent and food and other bills. She’d let us keep a small amount for clothes and a rare trip to the movies. Mom would kill me if she knew any of us had a savings account.

“Hi there,” the woman says. Her smile is contagious, even first thing in the morning. “Please come in.” She pokes her head out of the door. “Morning, Marv.” I’m pretty sure she just spoke to the moose, but given my outfit, I’m not fit to judge anyone’s mental health.

“Thank you,” I say as I glance around, trying to figure out what I can wear. Anything is better than what I’m currently in. I don’t even have a change of underwear. I need everything.

“Can I help you with anything?” the woman asks.

I exhale. It’s not like I can cover up the fact I’m dressed in a wedding gown, half covered up with a t-shirt, zipless hoodie and a man’s jacket. “I’ve had an unexpected detour, and I need a full change of clothes. Or two.”

I figure I can start working out a plan once I don’t feel so conspicuous. The wedding dress needs to go.

“Well, I’m sure we can get you set up,” she says. “My name is Marge. Shall we start with…” She looks around the store. “Pants. Then we can decide on everything else.”

I allow myself to unclench my stomach muscles and take a deep breath. Everything inside settles a little. It’s baby steps but this feels like a way forward. I haven’t decided whether I need to go back to Oregon today and face the music or give myself a few days. Or maybe even a few weeks. No matter what I decide, I’m going to feel better after a change of clothes and some time with Marge, whose friendliness is a balm to my spirit.

“So, have you come from the Colorado Club?” Marge asks as she starts shunting hangers from one side to the other on the rack. “We hear it’s getting busier and busier.”

“Erm, no. At least I don’t think so.” Is “Colorado Club” a colloquial term for the airport or something?

Marge pulls out a couple of pairs of pants and laughs. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? I take it you don’t work up there on the mountain?”

I shake my head. “I got into town last night. Kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave Oregon.”

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