Have I dated other people while dealing with this crush? Yes. I’ve gone on a few dates over the past year and they all have been as exciting as clipping my toenails. Necessary, but not something I look forward to. Unless it’s a spa pedicure, then sign me up. However, sadly, no man has ever been as good as that.
There was Dave, who I met on a dating app. He wouldn’t stop talking when we went to dinner. He talked nonstop for over an hour and I was exhausted after. I usually have a backup plan when I go out on a first date like that, but I hadn’t set anything up. You know, like phone-a-friend, a way out in case it turns out badly. I ended up going to the bathroom and setting my alarm on my phone. When it went off five minutes later, I pretended I was getting an emergency phone call so I could rush out the door and make my escape.
Of course, I can’t forget DJ Luv, AKA Elton Clark. I methim at a party in Charlotte; he was here from Vegas on vacation and recording an album. He came up to Sweetkiss Creek so we could go to dinner a few times, but we didn’t click. For one thing, his day began at five p.m., when I was closing the store. His days were my nights, and we never found synchronicity in our schedules. Levi had a theory that if I really liked him, I’d have made it work, and he has a point. The night Elton asked me over a glass of wine how much I made in a year was probably the night I lost interest.
I’ve thought about putting a profile up on a dating app and also about trying a singles’ night at one of the local bars in town, but no. In the end, I just can’t do it.
So have I sworn off the dating scene? For the time being. I mean, Levi is back here for a few months, and I’d be lying to myself if I tried to ignore the fact that I want to, I don’t know—see if we have a chance?
Toto and I make our way out of the park and back onto Main Street, navigating our way home. Passing by Altman’s Furniture store, I peek in the window at the new items they have. There’s a display showing off a new collection of pine furniture.
Pine. Pining.
Yes. That’s what I am. I am pining for Levi Porter. I could almost make that into a poem: “Pathetically pining for a Porter” is what I’d call it.
Mr. Altman sees me staring through the glass as I walk by and he waves. He’s always there early in the morning, before his staff. He’s also a fan of autobiographies, and I usually keep a few behind the counter for him to check out when he stops in.
Coming from my own life issues, Sweetkiss Creek has been the second chance I never knew I’d need. So when I think about Levi and the ridiculous crush I have on him, I want to make my move slowly.
That’s right, I’m going to make a move. He’s been wrapped up with taking over guardianship and when he wasn’t busy with that, he was on the road for work. Now that he’s back, I’m really hoping I have a chance.
But first, there are other dragons to slay. Like a ten-year-old with a proclivity for lifting cookbooks.
FOUR
Levi
Opening the door to my bedroom, I follow the smell of coffee downstairs to the kitchen. Am I an adult male who lives at home on the farm with my family when I’m not traveling with my team? Why, yes, I am a proud card-carrying member of this exclusive club.
There’s no other sound in the giant old farmhouse than the padding of my feet as I shuffle down the hallway. I like being here as much as I can and spending time with my mom. The Porter Family Farm is a working truffle farm; savory truffles, obviously, because who has a chocolate truffle farm besides Willy Wonka? It’s one of the first to open its doors in North Carolina. My mother had started it years ago after my father had taken off and left her, literally, holding two babies in her arms. Me and my brother.
As I slowly push open the large wooden swinging door that leads into the kitchen, I pause when I hear low voices talking on the other side of it.
The sound of my mother’s questioning tone hits my ears first. “So, do you want to help out in the field today, Duncan?”
I’ve got the door opened just a crack, my foot propping it at the bottom of its base, and there’s a sliver of an opening where I can peek through and survey the room. Mom stands on one side, sipping her coffee and leaning against the sink while Duncan sits at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him.
He shrugs his shoulders in response to her question. At least it’s a two-shoulder shrug kind of day. When we brought him back here a few days ago, he’d barely lift anything or respond to us at all.
“Okay,” Mom continues, never defeated. After what she’s had to deal with in her life, I’m sure this small brick wall can’t hold a candle to it. “There’s always more shopping. I’m not sure if you have summer clothes or not, so I’ll ask Levi if we can take inventory of your things and see if you want to go into town.”
Duncan lifts his head but doesn’t say anything still. I let my eyes bounce between him and my mother, wondering if she’s thinking the same thing I am.
“We could also make ice cream if you’d like?” She offers this like a pacifier to a screaming child. Ever since she treated herself to this high-end ice cream maker, she thinks she’s Ben or maybe it’s Jerry. Not sure, but she’s having a good time with it, even if Duncan is busy shaking his head from side to side, uninterested.
Not even the prospect of creating his own ice cream flavor gets this guy interested. How do we get through to this little man? Sighing, I drop my head. He’s been through so much. At his age, he’s already seen things that I could never comprehend, and here he is in our home. And we are strangers to him.
Steeling myself, I lift my head and push the door open.
“Good morning, everyone,” I sing out, crossing the room to kiss Mom on her cheek. I pour my coffee and turn around, mimicking her stance against the counter. “So, what’s going on in here?”
“We’re trying to decide where the day will take us, right, Duncan?” Mom says, her gaze staying transfixed on the little man at her kitchen table. “There’s a lot of possibilities.”
“Well, Duncan already has plans for the day.” Our eyes meet as he lifts a spoonful of something sugary and colorful to his lips. If he only knew how lucky he was to get my mom in grandmother mode, he wouldn’t eat that cereal so slowly. When I was growing up, it was oatmeal or shredded wheat or eggs and toast. Only what Mom deemed to be healthy for us.
“Really?” Mom turns to face me, sipping her coffee.
“He’s helping Georgie out at her shop today.” Duncan’s eyes slam into mine, a flash of worry behind them. I could rat him out to my mom, but I won’t. He made his mistake. I can tell her about it later, but right now, I want to get him settled in here, and making him feel like a petty thief may not be the way to do it. “She needed a hand unloading some boxes, and Duncan really likes books, don’t you, buddy?”
