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“I have a headache,” he says, his tone unconvincing.
I let out a sigh. “Is it because I almost got myself crushed by a gazebo?”
“That doesn’t help things, no. Don’t do that again, please.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t notice that it was about to fly off. I just wanted to do something nice for baby Nate.”
“I know. I’m not blaming you for that.”
“Then why the cold shoulder?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he states, when there is very much something to talk about.
“How about that storm? Or how you’re going to get the gazebo’s roof out of the mud? Or why do you look like you want to go drive this truck off a bridge?”
He grumbles, his hands hard on the steering wheel. “Look, Char, this is all happening too much, too fast. I barely know you. I opened up my cabin so that you could get back on your feet, and yes, we had some fun, but we shouldn’t be treating this like it's something more than what it is.”
Anger rises inside me. Where does he get off? All the things we’ve felt for one another have been pure passion, and I can’t be convinced otherwise. “What is wrong with you? Seriously?”
“What is wrong with me? I’m not the lovesick girl who thinks I’m going to propose marriage after a week of knowing her.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not expecting that, Bear. I know you have issues with marriage. With your mom and all that.”
Bear goes silent as I call out his problem exactly.
“I’m not getting married,” he finally says. “I’m not doing it. I’m not going to let myself get hurt like my mom did, and I’m not going to even give myself the chance to hurt anyone else.”
“I’m not talking about marriage right now, even. Yeah, it’s a bit too soon. We don’t have to start naming our kids and planning for retirement together. Not yet.”
“Yeah, well, the path we’re going down leads to that, and sometimes you just want to nip it in the bud instead of letting stuff get to the point where it's too late to stop.”
We pull into the cabin's driveway, and he leaves the car in a huff.
I seethe. How childish is this man? Just assuming we’re going to get married and have kids, and live happily ever after?
Never mind that it's exactly what I want. Forget that this fantasy has already played out in my head countless times in the past week. Fantasies, though, are just that, and I know it takes time to realize if someone is really right for you.
I still think Bear is right for me. But everyone has their flaws and their rough edges—and Bear's? They are that he’s a shortsighted, stubborn man who is so worried about the consequences that he won’t take a chance on happiness.
I watch him as he heads inside. I wish I could convince him of what I feel, but I know that sometimes these realizations are something you have to figure out for yourself. Deep down, I hope he knows I still care. That I won’t hold his anguish against him.
That he'll come around.
I walk heavily toward the cabin, and my phone starts to vibrate. It’s a call from the city.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Am I speaking to Miss Charlene Hill?”
“That’s me, yes.”
“This is Frederique Tomas with the High Street Boutique. I apologize for the long wait, but it took me some time to sort through the applications, but I’ve decided that I’m very interested in yours.”
My eyes shoot wide open. “Huh? Oh, hi. That’s great.”
“I’d like to call you in for a follow-up interview to see if you’re truly cut for the High Street Boutique family. We could use someone with sewing talents to patch up problems in a pinch, and that someone sounds like you.” He spoke in a very haughty accent, one that is very much trying to be French, but I’m kind of doubting he’s ever been on that side of the Atlantic.
“Oh sure. When and where do you want me?”
