Page 86 of Actually Yours

“Me too!” This comes from Sandra, our Uber driver, who is fully aware of the purpose of this excursion. And she’s completely on board. “I won’t even charge you guys. This is the most excitement I’ve had in the six months that I’ve been doing this.”

In addition to learning all about me and my love mission, we’d learnt all about Sandra’s life as an ex-school teacher who in her 50s has started down this new career path as a ride share driver.

“None of you need to stay.” I’m adamant, pushing Sammi to open the door and let me out from my position, squished in the middle. “I’m going to do this, and hopefully, if all goes well, I won’t need a ride home.”

My friends love this idea, Sammi scrambling to get out of the way, while I hop/slide after her, trying not to flash my underwear as I go. Not the best day to wear this cute, but impractical leather mini-skirt.

“Love you, ladies. Thank you for your support.” I wave to Madi, who’s remained in the backseat, grinning wildly, before hugging Sammi tightly. “Thanks for listening and for coming up with this brilliant Christmas card idea. I hope it works.”

“It will!” Sandra, my newest cheerleader, yells from the driver’s seat. “He’d be a fool to turn you away.”

Taking this confidence from Sandra the stranger, I straighten my shoulders and walk to the front door, remembering the last time I’d marched down this very pathway, on my way to yell at Robby.How much has my life—my love life—changed since the last time I was here?My friends in their Uber yell good luck to me and Sandra honks the horn goodbye, and then there is silence. Just me and the front door.

Holding the Christmas card love letter in my sweaty hand, I take a deep breath, blow it out, and knock. Once, twice, and then a third time. And then I wait.

“Amelia?”

It’s been five painfully long days since he’d been in his tuxedo, walking away from me to give me space, and in that time, he’s grown even more gorgeous. More perfect looking. More perfect for me.

“Hi.”

My word comes out as a squeak and I clear my throat.

“Hi,” I squeak out again.Much better.

He looks behind me before taking my hand and pulling me inside.

“Are you OK?”

My eyes are stuck on him; it’s been less than a week and I’ve missed him. “You didn’t message me back.”

He looks at the phone in his hand. “I know.”

Hmm, not off to a great start.I stop in the hallway, determined to get through this. To get through to him.

“Why?”

He runs his hand through this thick hair, making a mess of it as he goes. “Many reasons. Mainly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

Well, that’s me stumped.He doesn’t want to hear me out?

“Come on.” He takes my hand in his—bliss—and guides me to the couch. “Let’s sit.”

I sink into the squishy couch cushions and take courage from Bella’s painting staring at me from the wall. He had spent all those months at the Love, Lilly café waiting for me; those sorts of feelings don’t just disappear in a week. Surely.

“I’m sorry.” An apology is a good place to start. “About freaking out on you and panicking and then apparently sending the world’s scariest text message the next day.”

His dimple pops in his cheek. “Those are the three most frightening words a man can hear from a woman.”

“So I’ve just found out.”

“I’m sorry too. I should have called. There’s just been a lot going on and, like I said, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to you. In case…” he trails off, his eyes darting away from me.

“In case?”

“In case I don’t like what you have to say.”

And that’s it. He’s being vulnerable and laying his fears on the table. Perhaps he’s been scared that I was going to reject him and he wanted to put it off for as long as possible?

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