Page 108 of Four Dates and A Forever
Abi wished to disappear, but unfortunately whoever was granting wishes wasn’t listening because how else could this moment come while she was dressed like a singing telegram?
It wasn’t often that an amateur do-gooder got to face down her reason for do-gooding on her first day as a practicing Samaritan. By practicing, she meant stumbling, and Abi had stumbled right into the son of the man whose life she had inadvertently destroyed.
As she stood there, dressed in a red nose, clown shoes, and a unicorn headband while buying a giant box of condoms, a shot of guilt mixed with swelling panic caused the secret that she’d held for over a decade to stick in her throat.
People were defined by their choices and while Teen Abi had chosen to do something stupid, she hadn’t been the only guilty party in the equation. Sadly, Owen hadn’t chosen any of it, yet it was clear by what she’d surmised over the past several weeks that he was the one paying the price.
“Nice shoes,” he commented.
“I’m doing a birthday party later.”
He glanced at the condoms on the conveyor belt. “Those for the balloon animals?”
“Those are none of your business.”
“Isn’t that a shame?”
It was more than that. She was still riding the high from completing the first random act of kindness in Jenny’s honor, but now she had to delete a point, bringing her back to square one. Because she was about to lie to a man who deserved the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“Do you have a habit of harassing strangers in grocery stores?”
His lip quirked. “Stranger, huh? We’re playing that game? I see you at the tea shop all the time.”
“No game. Just a fact.”
Abi was terrible at secrets and even worse at lying, which was why she avoided it at all costs. But sometimes one did something that—even though it was the right thing to do—warranted secrecy.
For a self-proclaimed good girl, Abi had a lot to atone for. Which was why, after a decade of avoidance, she’d come back to Portland, the place she’d spent every summer while growing up, to right the first of very many wrongs. She was hoping to make up for her most recent wrong that had ended in a terrible tragedy. She’d learned the hard way that every decision had far-reaching consequences, like a single drop of rain on a still lake sending ripples in every direction.
Abi’s ripples were powerful enough to tilt her world so far off axis that the only way to atone was to face her mistakes head-on. Even if it was in baby steps.
Recommitting herself to the task at hand, she tossed the condoms in her bag and glanced at the exit, then pulled out her credit card in preparation for a speedy escape.
“ID,” Patrice asked loudly.
Distractedly, Abi glanced at the cashier. “What?”
“You belong to AARP?” she asked, and Abi shook her head. “Then if you want the booze, I have to scan your ID.”
Aware of Owen peeking right over her shoulder, she stealthily took her ID from her wallet and held it out to Patrice, who studied it.
“Abilene Josephine Marie.” She looked up. “And that’s just your first name.”
“I thought you only needed to scan it.” Abi snatched it back.
“Abilene, huh?” Owen asked, the humor thick in his tone.
She ignored him. “I really need to go.”
“Is the party leaving the station?”
“Yes, and before you ask, it’s a private party.”
He rested a casual hip against the counter and leaned in close. A breathe-too-deeply-and-you’ll-brush-his-chest kind of close that made her sweat in uncomfortable places. “My favorite kind,” he whispered.
Not touching that with a ten-foot pole, she paid for her things and, ignoring theDo Not Entersign, the drizzle, and the amused chuckle behind her, she raced out of the store and headed toward her bike. Not a motorbike, not even a ten-speed.
Nope, the closest Abi came to transportation these days was Jenny’s old lemon-yellow beach cruiser, with a kitty seat cover, and white basket on the handlebars.
