Page 19 of Three Months Yesterday

“I’ll walk you to the door.” Sadie squeezes my shoulder as she passes. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod, but she doesn’t see it, her focus on the man at her side.

Turning slightly, I have a clear shot to Sadie’s front door. I can’t hear them but I can see them, and it’s clear the deep feelings they have for each other. The way he has his arms wrapped around her. The way her hands rest against his chest. The way they lean toward each other, not wanting any space between them.

For the first time since Mark and I broke up, I allow myself to think about what I want for my future—outside of the inn. I’m not ready to dive head first into a relationship. It’s only been a few months since ending a ten-year relationship, and I really should figure out what life looks like without a man by my side. But I know I want to share this life with someone, and in order to do that, I need to open up my circle.

There’s absolutely no harm in making new friends and seeing where this life takes me.

Who knows? I might open the door to some amazing opportunities if I let myself enjoy the journey instead of focusing on the destination.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my contemplation of the food stuffed in the fridge. Ryan would probably accuse me of not having a fun day, but the truth is I had a great day. It may have been spent doing adult things, like grocery shopping, but the fact that I was the one who got to do it? I couldn’t be happier.

Letting the fridge fall shut, I make my way to the cottage door. After exploring town yesterday and most of today and being introduced to a handful of people, it could be anyone.

But opening the door I can safely say she wasn’t in the top five people I expected to find on the other side. Especially after the way she ran away from me this morning—literally.

“Hey.” It’s simple, but I really don’t know what else to say. It seems we’ve both been struggling with whatever we’re feeling toward each other.

“Hi.” Her eyes fall to the plate in her hands, her feet shuffling slightly before she takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize. I’m normally far more professional than I was this morning, but this”—she gestures to the space around us, balancing the plate on one hand—“is new and unexpected. Not that it’s an excuse.”

“You really don’t have to apologize. I can’t say I would have acted any differently if the roles were reversed.”

One eye falls shut as she studies me, and I can’t help but think how cute that is. “I don’t know how true that statement is, but I’ll just say thank you.”

“Good call.” I chuckle, stepping to the side and pulling the door open. “Would you like to come in?”

She hesitates, but only for a second before she nods and steps over the threshold, her eyes traveling around the room.

“So, you play guitar.” There’s no inflection to her tone, but it still feels like a question as her gaze lands on the instrument propped against the couch.

“You really have no idea who I am?” I ask, then immediately regret it. “That sounded conceited, didn’t it?”

“Maybe a little.” She laughs, her eyes continuing their perusal of the space around us. “But the way I understand it is you have every right to be a little conceited.”

“Oh, so you do know something about me?”

“Not really,” she rushes to say, turning to meet my eyes. “Your name is just really well known. There hasn’t been a single person I’ve talked to who doesn’t know who you are.”

“Hmm,” I hum, stepping forward to take the plate from her hands and moving into the kitchen. “At the risk of sounding like an egotistical asshole, how is it you’ve never heard of me?”

“I’m weird.” The words are so simple but they have me spinning to look at her, curiosity etched across my features. “I like the classics, in every sense of the word. Movies, music, books.” She shrugs, like she’s used to people judging her for her preferences.

“That’s not weird.” I place the forgotten plate on the kitchen island, putting all my focus on the intriguing woman standing in my living room—well, in her living room, in a way.

“It’s fine.” She waves me off. “My mom likes to say I have an old soul.”

“How old are you?” I blurt, my stomach knotting at the words. But now that they’re out there, I’m curious.

“Twenty-eight,” she answers, no hesitation.

A ten-year age gap isn’t a big deal, right?

Wait. Why the hell does it matter how old she is?

Giving myself a mental slap across the face, I focus back on the conversation. “Your parents may be right, but that doesn’t make you weird.” I scoff, offended on her behalf. Who told her she was weird? “The classics are what started everything. We wouldn’t be the society we are today without them.”

“I’m not gonna argue that with you.” She smiles and it lights up the room. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop off some dinner. I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to make it to the store yet and I made extra, so…” Her words trail off, nerves seeming to take over as her eyes bounce around the space, looking at the things she’s already seen.