Page 54 of The Weight Of Falling
“You’re not,” I assure her. “You’d actually be helping me. I get bored shopping alone.”
After a slight hesitation, she nods and places her basket in my cart. “Thank you.”
Alix is still standing nearby, still radiating disapproval, like she’s the store’s official morality monitor.
I give her a small wave. “Morning, Alix,” I call out. “Isn’t it something how much patience love requires?”
She doesn’t reply, just clicks her tongue and walks away.
My heart lifts when I glimpse the twitch of a smile on Reagan’s lips.
“I’m making paneer curry tonight,” I say conversationally as we begin walking slowly down the aisle. “Any idea what you’re cooking?”
“Jacob doesn’t like his foods mixed,” she answers with a tired smile. “Everything needs to be separate.”
“I get that.”
“I’m not sure you want to shop with me,” Reagan adds. “We take a while. Jacob likes to stop and look at things that catch his eye.”
“No problem,” I tell her cheerfully. “I’m not in a rush. And I’d love the company.”
“I keep thinking I should just shop online,” she admits. “But sometimes this is the only outing I get all week.”
I smile gently. “It’s not always about convenience, is it? Sometimes it’s about feeling human.”
We make our way through the store at Jacob’s pace. We stop when he stops. He points out cereal boxes and colorful packetsof biscuits. I ask him questions and give him my full attention while Reagan fills her basket.
It takes us an hour to complete the shop. People glance our way, but they keep walking. No one frowns. No one mutters.
When we finish, I walk them to their car and help load the groceries into the trunk. I watch as Reagan buckles Jacob in. He waves at me through the window. I wave back.
“I can’t thank you enough for all your help,” Reagan says, her eyes shiny with emotion.
I touch her arm gently. “You’re doing a great job. Truly.”
Tears spring to her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I really needed to hear that today.”
After shopping, I treat myself to a takeaway coffee and a warm cinnamon roll from Beth’s Bakery. My groceries are packed in insulated bags and will be fine for another half hour or so. The day has warmed up, and the sun touches my skin like a soft caress as I stroll down Main Street. Saturdays in Brown Oaks are always busy, with tourists and locals weaving down the cobbled walkways, pausing to browse vintage clothing racks or linger outside artisan cafés.
I sip my coffee and tear off a piece of cinnamon roll, letting the cinnamon and sugar melt on my tongue as I soak in the lively atmosphere.
“Hi, Kenzie,” a voice calls from Dusti’s sandwich shop.
“Hi, Ms. Snel. How are you?”
“Nothing to complain about,” she says cheerfully, stepping onto the sidewalk with a giant sandwich clutched in her hand. “How’s that handsome fiancé of yours?”
“He’s...”
...Stepping out of Frank’s Hardware store, directly across the street.
“Well, would you look at that,” she says, her green eyes twinkling. “Isn’t that perfect timing?”
“Isn’t it just,” I manage, my cheeks warming.
“Off you go, then,” she urges, waving me along. “I wouldn’t want to keep you two lovebirds apart.”
My heart speeds up at the wordlovebirds. We’re not, of course, but my heart is good at ignoring inconvenient truths.
