Page 25 of Somewhere Along The Line
God, that feels like forever ago; so much has happened since then.
Piper’s face softens as she picks up the baton, mercifully taking the onus of being vulnerable away from me.
“I do, just Sami. We’ve been in the coach house for about a year, and it’s been an awesome spot for us.” She turns so we’re walking side-by-side, and I narrow my stride to accommodate for our height difference.
“She’s my best friend, as I told you the other night, and my partner-in-crime. We’re not the best influences for one another but we certainly have fun.” She lets out a small breath as she smiles. I wish I could catch it somehow.
“And what does fun look like for Miss Piper Paulson?”
“Ahh, yes. Well, I’m broke, so that puts a damper on things.” She laughs without a hint of embarrassment. “Lots of free stuff. I like to wander around flea markets and look at everyone’s treasures. I visit museums when admission is waived with proof of residency. Sami and I play board games and watch rom-coms and talk about the meaning of life. And I make sausage balls.”
“For that, I am grateful.” I give a small bow of my head to show my appreciation. She accepts the gesture with a nod before continuing.
“This isn’t necessarilyfun, but I also started a new job recently at a non-profit downtown. We help single-parent families get back on their feet. We connect them to community resources and offer classes for both moms and kids. I teach a weekly painting class, which is the absolute best. We’re also planning to launch a scholarship program soon. I secured our first donor a few days ago actually.”
She projects nonchalance as though this isn’t an accomplishment; I can’t let that slide.
“That’s really incredible, P.” I decide to try out “P” as a nickname to see how it lands. The usual nickname-induced eye roll is absent from her face, and instead she gives me a warm, if uncertain, glance. She doesn’t acknowledge it further. “They must feel so lucky to have you.”
“I feel lucky to be there. I’d been in a rough spot for a while and it’s nice to do meaningful work again, especially for a good cause. I worked at a bank in town a few years back, though I won’t mention the name since you’ll know people there. Things went south both personally and professionally, and it’s taken a long time to put the pieces back together. I’m happy to be on a better path now.”
Piper gazes down as she’s talking, only making eye contact with the tops of her shoes. I’m desperate to learn more but decide not to push.
“Did you grow up around here?”
She looks at me fondly and her whole body relaxes, seemingly glad for the change of subject.
“No, I grew up about six hours south of here. I’ve been in the city for about five years though, off and on, so it feels like home. My mom would love to have me back in my hometown again, but she’s grateful I’m here with Kent at least. That’s my brother.”
“The banker?”
“That’s him. He lives on the northside. It makes my mom feel better that he’s local in case I need him, though we basically never see each other. I would’ve bet my life on her driving up and dragging me back home when I talked to her after the smoke bomb. She was livid I hadn’t called her to tell her I wasn’t on the train, then horrified when I told her I was.”
That’s my opening.“Speaking of the smoke bomb, let’s talk about Monday.”
I’m confident nothing we’ve discussed tonight is relevant for a trip to the station to give witness statements. If anything, this plan to meet up and talk—a hopeful scheme to create some convincing level of comfort between us—has only made me aware of how unnatural I feel when Piper’s around. My measured, predictable, analytical self goes out the window. I’m alternately tongue-tied and awkward or brazenly flirty.
We may have to further our lie and pretend to be newlyweds, if only to explain why I can’t keep my eyes off her.
I guide Piper to a nearby bench and we sit, her body twisting toward me. Her cheeks are flushed from the chill breeze or, if I’m lucky, from being here with me.
“Alright,hubby, what’cha thinking?” She waits expectantly for my answer, her brown eyes on mine and her lips barely parted.
Good God, that word coming out of her mouth again sends a thrill up my spine and blood rushing downward. I shift, trying to get comfortable on the damp, wooden bench, but it’s futile. Everything about this situation—about having Piper’s attention and her body within arm’s reach—is out of my comfort zone.
I can't name the feelings bubbling up in my chest. I don’t recognize the thoughts swirling in my head about what I would do if this was a date, about how I’d tuck my arm around her waist and pull her into my side where I already know she fits.
About how if she was truly my wife, I’d lift her legs onto my lap and tilt her chin, guiding her lips to mine to search her mouth slowly, my fingers threading through the back of her hair, tugging.
Stop.
Fucking hell.
I need to stop.
Instead of indulging another second of fantasy, I offer logistics. “It makes sense to go down to the station early and get things wrapped up. We should go together, being married and all that.”
She bites her top lip and I can tell she’s thinking.
