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Chapter 6
Roger
Waking up slowly, I remember where I am—in Tootsie’s bed. After our “encounter” in the library store room, she invited me to spend the night with her. Obviously, I accepted. I can’t believe how well we connected.
I gaze at the gorgeous woman beside me. She looks like an angel with her skin clear and make-up free, her lips pale pink, her auburn hair spread over the pillow. This was such a big week for her. I don’t want to wake her up when she looks so peaceful. I can’t believe how lucky I am that the woman of my dreams literally knocked on my door.
I grab my phone from the night stand and look up the local news—they should have the final numbers for the library fundraiser. It was so busy, I can’t imagine they didn’t make enough. I scroll down and freeze, the breath stuck in my lungs.
They didn’t reach their goal. They barely made it halfway. Shit. What does this mean for Tootsie?
Last night as we lay in bed chatting, she admitted that her fall-back if the fundraiser didn’t work would be moving back in with her parents. They live six driving hours away. That’s too far. She’s worth a long distance relationship, but how often do those actually work out?
No, there’s got to be another option.
Quietly, I get out of the bed and get dressed. Mr. Darcy stares at me from the sofa, but I can’t give him much attention. I’ve got some major thinking to do, and I do it better when I’m moving. I jot a note for her and stick it to the fridge with a magnet.
Hey Beautiful, I have to run some errands. Meet me at Koffee Karma after you’re done at work. Always, Roger
As soon as I close the door to her apartment, I head to Vincent Street. I need to be walking while I make this call. “Hey Gramps, you got a minute?”
“Of course, Roger boy. What can I help you with?”
I fill him in on the latest developments with Tootsie, leaving out any intimate details. “And now I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose her, but I only met her last week.”
“Well, that’s a situation right there. Do you have some ideas about how to fix it? Do you want to fix it?”
“I have some ideas, but that’s the question.” I run my hand stiffly through my hair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “How do I know if she’s the one?”
“Only you know what she means to you, Roger boy. But I’ll tell you this: you know you’ve found the right woman when you wouldn’t trade her for a dozen classic cars. Your grandmother is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Thanks, Gramps. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
“I’m here for you, but I think you got this.”
I end the call, still walking. Something about what Gramps said got me thinking. Imagine a year from now, I have everything I thought I wanted—my home is fixed up, I’ve got a restored 1955 Ford Thunderbird in the garage in bright cherry red, my business is booming, but there’s no Tootsie.
Versus the other option—my home is still a fixer-upper, there’s no Thunderbird in the garage, and business is the same as it is now, but I come home every night to Tootsie’s smile. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The answer couldn’t be clearer. The material stuff can come or go, but there’s only one Tootsie. If I don’t keep her now, I might never have another chance.
I’ve been so stuck in my head, that I have no idea where I’m at. Glancing around, I realize I’m in front of the bank. I huff a laugh. Must be a sign. As I walk through the glass doors, a feeling of relief runs through me and I know I’m making the right choice.
