Page 107 of Her Goal
But the door doesn’t slam.
It’s dark and I peer out the window. Leah’s Toyota sits in the driveway and she’s still in the driver’s seat. I’m about to text her when I worry she’s having second thoughts. I mean, it’s just dinner. Sure, after readingPride and Prejudice, I had the invitation delivered by a courier in period dress, but isn’t that romantic?
Then again, this is Leah. There’s no telling what she’ll think.
I’m about to text her when I think twice about what Darcy or Bingley would do and head outside. Knocking on the driver’s side window, she startles.
“Everything alright?” I ask.
She rolls down the window.
I repeat myself.
“It was. I mean, yes.”
“Are you hungry? I have dinner waiting.”
She gives her head a little shake as if coming out of her thoughts. Eyebrows drawn together, she smooths her hair along with her expression.
I open the door and she exits the vehicle, sending her summer berries scent my way.
“I’m fine. I just came from my parents’ house and they’re sure planning a big party.” Her voice wavers and she adds, “For us.”
I’m afraid that if I say anything, she’ll jump back in the car and speed away. As if we’re walking into a restaurant, I follow her up the path and turn the front door knob, but it’s locked. I try it again.
“Must be stuck.”
Leah steps back as I push my weight into it. The door doesn’t budge.
“Maybe the side door? Be right back,” I say, feeling like a fool.
I scurry along the path, through the gate between the hedges, and up the steps to that entry. It’s also locked. I try the back deck, the basement access, and the garage.
Leah waits on the front stoop, arms wrapped around herself.
“Um, so, if someone wanted to break into my house and leave a garden gnome, how would they have gained access?” I ask vaguely.
Leah’s eyes bulge. “The garage window could be unlocked.”
I snap my fingers. “I secured it after the incident.”
She looks like she’s going to dart.
“I’m just asking hypothetically. I’ll text Grady. He has my extra key. I’m sorry.”
She nods, hopping a little in the chilly air.
I mutter, “The bread is going to be a charred little puck.”
The corners of Leah’s lips twitch with a smile.
It’s going to be okay, I tell myself.
We sit on the front step, waiting for Grady and heavy silence passes between us. I think about conversation topics I’ve kept on file for dates with other women. But this is Leah. She’s built different, we know each other, and have a history. She’ll laugh my attempts to charm her right down the block.
“I’m glad you got the invitation,” I say dumbly.
“Interesting deliveryman.”
