Page 62 of The Broken Heart Playlist
We order hamburgers and bounce ideas off one another while we wait for the food to arrive. The cookbook will feature mostly winter recipes so we’ll aim for a moody, slightly broody aesthetic. We discuss how the food can be plated and how we’ll manage the temperaments of all the different chefs. Then we’reasking for the check and I’m surprised at how quickly the time has passed.
As we make our way toward the car, Joel comments, “There’s something different about you.”
Taken aback, I glance over at him. “There is?”
“Yes.”
“Gooddifferent? Orbaddifferent?”
He stops in the middle of the parking lot and studies me. “You seem lighter, less troubled. Happier,” he adds.
I shrug awkwardly. “Oh. So,gooddifferent.”
“Yes.” He waits a beat. “Does this change have anything to do with your new neighbor?”
My face flames, his question hitting a little too close to home. “Gideon? Why would you think that?”
“Because for the first time since I’ve known you, you’re blushing,” he points out in a soft voice.
I wave away his words. “It was hot inside the restaurant, that’s all.”
Joel looks as though he’s on the verge of saying something more, but I’m relieved when he lets the subject go without further comment and drops me off at home. Tess arrives with Lisset soon after and I’m caught up admiring their pottery creations.
For the next couple of days, I don’t see much of Gideon. He doesn’t knock on my door asking if he can mow my lawn. He doesn’t sit outside on his porch so I have an excuse to wander over and share a glass of wine with him. After work, I spend a shameless amount of time in my front garden turning soil and searching for non-existent weeds, but he doesn’t stop by to sweet-talk a drink out of me. I don’t know when he’s scheduling his walks with Uno, but it appears to be at a time when I’m not around.
I know he’s not away, because his Jeep is still parked in the driveway.
By the time Friday arrives, I’m beginning to believe he’s avoiding me. For the life of me, I can’t think why, but I’m not having it.
Not when there’s a desk sitting in my garage that needs to be built.
Not when he’s bulldozed his way into our lives and added a little brightness to our days.
He doesn’t get to leave us in the dark with no explanation.
After our usual Friday evening dinner of pizza and Greek salad, I ensconce Lisset in front of the TV and head over to Gideon’s place, my gut churning with nerves. I pace his porch for a solid ten seconds and toe a stain in the wood with my booted foot for another five while I work up the courage to knock.
What is wrong with me? Why can I face down a demanding client, but get all jittery at the thought of confronting Gideon?
I rap sharply on his front door.
It opens and Gideon stands there, looking surprised to see me. “Hi, Kate.”
“Hi.” I clear my throat. “I wanted to check how you are.”
“I’m fine.”
“I haven’t seen you around much.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“Oh.”
His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and checks the screen. “Look, now’s not a great time to talk. Maybe I can catch up with you tomorrow?”
My shoulders drop. “Okay. Sure.” He moves to close the door, but then indignation wells up. I stick my foot out toprevent the door from closing. “You know what, it’s not okay. Are you mad at me for something?”
“Why would you say that?” he asks quietly.
