by J. L. Jarvis
Dylan gasped and, looking way too surprised, said, “Oh, a present! We forgot! Oh no!” He frowned. At least her mother could rest easily, knowing that Dylan would never run off to Hollywood to become an actor. He was good-looking enough, for an old guy in his thirties, but acting—nope, not an option for him.
Eve said, “Follow me.”
Lydia glanced at Dylan. Yeah, something was up. They all followed.
Then her mother stopped. “I forgot a blindfold.”
Well, aren’t we being dramatic?
Eve spotted Lydia’s scarf. “That’ll do.”
She extended her hand, so Lydia gave it to her. They went outside, and Lydia discovered she wasn’t a big fan of walking blindfolded among motor vehicles. But they eventually stopped.
“Okay, you can look now.”
Lydia looked around. “You got me a parking lot for my birthday?”
She looked at Marco, but he shrugged and shook his head.
Eve held out a key.
“A car key?” Then it sank in. “A car key!”
Eve smiled. “It’s yours.” She extended her hand toward a shiny blue subcompact. “It’s a few years old, but Dylan knows a guy, and he painted and detailed it, so it’s almost like new.” Her mother looked almost as happy as Lydia was. Then she added, “Now Marco won’t have to drive you to school.”
“Oh, great.” Lydia felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “Lucky you, Marco!”
He gave her a gentle half smile. “I didn’t mind.”
Her mother said, “Happy birthday,” then hugged her.
“Thanks, Mom.” It was a fantastic gift—the best birthday gift she’d ever received. She could drive herself to and from school. But she was going to miss Marco.
Dylan said, “Why don’t you two take her out for a spin?”
Lydia tightened her grip on the key. “Oh, I’m sure Marco needs to get back to the bar.”
“I think I can spare a few minutes. Come on, let’s go see what this baby can do.”
The two guys were practically beaming with joy—not that Lydia wasn’t thrilled with her car. She was. And she was glad Marco wanted to ride in her car. It was her birthday, and he was happy for her. She looked around, and her heart was so full. She had everything she could have hoped for her birthday. Her mother was happy with Dylan. They were almost a family. And Lydia had a father. She couldn’t wait to open his card. And Marco was Marco. But that was the problem. She wouldn’t think of that for the moment.
They got in, and she turned the key in the ignition. “Okay, here we go!”
They drove through the town. In the dark, all the Christmas lights glowed. Marco suggested they park by the water to take in the harbor lights. It was a magnificent sight at any time of the year, but at Christmas, it was especially magical.
Lydia kept the car idling while they leaned their heads back and soaked in the scenery. “I’m so glad this is home. I love it.”
“And now you can come over here anytime you want.”
“This is a great way to top off my birthday.” She started to shift into reverse and head for home, but Marco stopped her.
“Let’s stay here for a minute.”
“Okay.” That caught Lydia off guard.
Marco unbuckled his seat belt and turned, leaning his arm on the seat back. “I have an idea. It makes good sense financially.”
“Okay.” He was sounding oddly practical, which wasn’t exactly her first choice when parked before a scene so romantic that it made the heart swell.
“Well, I was just thinking.”
“Thinking is good.”
Marco’s practical expression disappeared, and the old Marco returned with a grin. “I know!”
When he didn’t continue right away, Lydia said cheerfully, “Well, good. Thank you for sharing.”
“Wait. Hear me out.”
The longer he took to say whatever it was he had on his mind, the more uncomfortable Lydia became. But that was her problem. She was always overanalyzing everything that he said or did, even though she knew it was not all about her. In fact, it was seldom about her.
Marco slipped off his shoes and put his feet up on the dashboard then clasped his hands behind his head.
“Comfortable?”
He tilted his head. “Leather seats would be nice.”
Lydia started to give him a playful swat with the back of her hand, but he caught her wrist. An awkward moment followed while he loosened his grasp on her wrist and set her hand down gently. Lydia’s heart did the weightless thing it always did when he touched her. I am so hopelessly lost.
Oblivious to Lydia’s moment of crisis, Marco said, “I got used to riding together.”
That made Lydia far happier than it should have. “Me too.”
Marco touched the button and tilted the seat farther back to almost a full recline. “You know, we’d save money if we carpooled. Not to mention reducing our carbon footprint.”
Lydia gestured toward Marco’s feet on the dashboard. “If your feet weren’t so big, we wouldn’t have to worry so much about that.”
“I know. That’s why we need to act now.” A smile teased the corner of his mouth.
“What kind of act?” Because you really shouldn’t talk about performing acts together when we’re in a parked car with your seat horizontal.
“Carpool.”
“Carpool?”
Marco pressed the button and raised his seat back up to its original position. “Yeah. I’ll take Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can drive Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“But…” That is not going to help me break free.
“Okay, we can alternate Fridays.” He nodded as though it were settled then smiled and leaned back while he lowered his seat back again.
Lydia couldn’t help but smile. “Having fun?”
“Try it. It’s like an amusement park ride.”
“Marco, have you ever been to an amusement park? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it’s more fun than this.”
“Lydia, nobody has more fun than we do.”
She smiled and lowered her seat back. “How could they?”
And that’s why I’ll wind up spending the rest of my life like my mother, alone and unloved—except even she has found love.
So have I. Too bad it’s one-way.
Five
Lydia shoved her books into her book bag, slung it crosswise over her shoulder, and headed out of class. It was a crisp winter day but not so far below freezing that she couldn’t enjoy her walk to the car. A light dusting of snow laced bare tree branches and sparkled in the setting sunlight.
“Lydia!” Running footsteps approached her from behind.
“Bryce. Hi, how are you?”
Color flushed his cheeks. “I’m good.” He pushed his hair from his forehead. “I was wondering if you were busy.”
“When? Now?”
“Yeah. I thought we might go grab a cup of coffee and maybe go for a walk and check out the Christmas decorations in the shop windows in town.”
That sounded like such a nice, Christmassy idea. She couldn’t imagine Marco ever coming up with that. Strolling by Christmas decorations? The thought made her smile, but then she thought of Marco and looked toward the car. It was her turn to drive. “I can’t today. I’m carpooling with Marco, and I can’t leave him stranded.”
Disappointment crossed quickly over his face. “How about tomorrow?”
Lydia thought for a moment. “I guess so. But tomorrow is Marco’s turn to drive, so I would need a ride home afterward. I’d drive separately, but Marco and I share a parking tag.”
His face brightened. “Not a problem. I was planning on doing that, anyway. So, why don’t we meet right here tomorrow? When is your last class over?”
“Four o’clock.”
“Great. See you here at four.” As an afterthought, he added, “If the weather is bad, we can meet inside the admin building over there. I’ll find you.”
“Okay, see
you then.”
Bryce smiled. He had a really nice smile. He headed back where he’d come from.
As Lydia headed for her car, she wondered, Is this a date? It seems like a date. But she still wasn’t sure. She’d arrived at the ripe old age of eighteen having gone on three dates total—and those barely counted since she’d only gone on them out of desperation. Apparently, desperation was not a good foundation for a relationship, because those relationships had lasted the span of one evening. While not quite disasters, none could be called enjoyable, much less romantic. But Bryce was different. For one thing, he seemed to like her. That was new. And she could see herself liking him. Imagine that—requited feelings. Weird.
Lydia barely had time to warm up the car before Marco plopped into the passenger seat.
She pulled out of the parking lot. “How was your day?”
“Okay. How was yours?”
“Good. So, tomorrow—”
“I’m driving. Don’t worry. I won’t forget you.” He grinned.
Just say it. It’s not a big deal. “I’ve got a… thing after school.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah. So I won’t need a ride home.”
”Whoa. Hold on there. Back up. Not literally—keep driving. Explain.”
Lydia kept her eyes on the road, but she could feel him staring at her.
“Come on. Out with it.”
“Out with what? I’m… meeting someone for coffee.” When Marco was silent, Lydia cast a quick sideways look then wished she hadn’t. Rolling her eyes, she said, “It’s just coffee.”
“Just coffee?”
“And Christmas window-shopping in town—to look at the displays.”
As if life’s greatest truths had just revealed themselves to him, Marco said, “Oh! So you’re meeting a girl.”
That annoyed her so much that she wished she weren’t driving. “Now, why would you say that?”
“Because what guy would ask you to go looking at shop windows?”
“Oh! So all guys should be exactly like you? Because they’re not!”
“Okay! Sorry! Wow. I guess I touched a raw nerve.”
“No, I just think your philosophy’s a little off.”
“Philosophy? I didn’t know I had one.”
“There’s Marco’s way, then there’s the wrong way.”
“That’s not true. How many times have I listened to you and agreed?”
That was a good question for which she had no answer. “I don’t have a counter. I should really get one. There must be a phone app.”
“The answer is a lot. And I listen to Theo and Allie—lots of people. It’s just that, in this case, trudging along icy sidewalks to look at shop windows wouldn’t have come to my mind as an ideal first date.”
“I didn’t say it was a date. It’s coffee. You and I have had coffee.” And I can regretfully attest to the fact that none of those coffees were dates.
Judging from his silence, she figured that Marco had run out of objections.
Lydia pulled into the Silva Brothers’ Brewpub parking lot to drop Marco off.
Only then did he ask her, “Who is it?”
“Bryce.” There, I’ve said it. It’s out in the open. So why do I feel like I’ve just confessed to cheating? On whom?
Marco looked as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “Bryce Rumsey?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going out on a date with Bryce Rumsey?”
“Not a date.”
“That’s right, it’s—”
They both said, “Coffee.”
He nodded knowingly. “And how do you know you can trust him?”
“Because we’re taking a class together. He’s a nice guy. We have friends in common.”
“Oh? What friends?”
“Well, you, for one.”
“I wouldn’t call him a friend. We’re in one class together. I’ve known him for a few weeks, which means basically nothing.”
Nothing she could say would wipe the skeptical look from Marco’s face where Bryce was concerned. “And what about you? How did you meet the last woman you went out with? Did you do a background check on her? Get references? Run a credit check? Women love that. Hi, my name’s Marco. I see you’ve listed receptionist as your primary job. So this bank job, is that just part time? Oh, I see, you were only the getaway driver. Okay, how ‘bout I pick you up at seven?”
He held up his palms and begged her to stop. “Okay, I get it. But it’s different with guys.”
“So what am I supposed to do? I mean, I thought about becoming an Anchorite monk, but then I found out they won’t let you out for coffee and window shopping, which brings us back to—”
“What’s an Anchorite monk?”
“Never mind. My point is you can’t lock me up—”
Eyes ablaze, Marco said, “I wasn’t suggesting that!”
Lydia was taken aback by his obvious frustration. “I didn’t mean you personally. I just meant that life is a risk. You’re right. Bryce could be a horrible person, as could every man I ever go out with for the rest of my life. But you can’t say that I’m not selective. I’ve been on exactly three dates in my whole life, so it’s not like I’ve kicked up my heels and gone wild. Would you rather I didn’t date at all? Spend my whole life alone? Because that’s not what I want. I’d like to be cared for. I’ve got a right to be loved.” Oh. That was probably too much information.
Marco looked stunned. And why wouldn’t he? She had just vomited her emotions all over everything, and it wasn’t pretty.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being too overprotective.” His eyes filled with warmth.
That softhearted expression made her forget her frustration with him. “I’m sorry, too—for unloading on you.”
Marco grinned as though that were an understatement. “Go ahead. Go on your date.”
“It’s not a date!”
“Coffee. Have fun.” He leaned over and gave her kiss on the cheek.
Why does he have to do that? It was warm and tender. It was brother-like, but she didn’t feel much like a sister.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He got out of the car, but before he closed the door, he leaned down and said, “But I’m still going to do a background check on him.”
“Marco!”
He turned and, without looking back, waved and walked inside.
In spite of Marco’s efforts to burst her dating bubble—efforts that included presenting her with a background check upon picking her up the next morning—Lydia went out with Bryce. And it went well.
Over coffee, they chatted about all sorts of things. He was easy to talk to and had a good sense of humor. While they talked, Lydia did a thorough study of his blue eyes, sandy hair, and strong jawline. He was taller than Marco by at least an inch, maybe two, and his hands were well-formed, with long fingers and remarkably well-manicured nails. She could see him ten years in the future, walking out of a bank in his topcoat and suit then stepping onto a commuter train to go home to his house in the suburbs.
After coffee, according to plan, they strolled down the street and looked at the shop windows, remarking on and laughing at things that they saw. Then they arrived at a small park by the main street that was used every winter as an ice-skating rink. A kiosk stood at the far side of the pond, where ice skates could be rented for a modest amount.
Bryce grabbed her elbow. “Come on. We’ve got to.”
“Do you know how to skate?”
“Ten years of hockey. I played through high school, so yes. How about you?”
“I took a few figure-skating classes, but I could never manage to spin or skate backward. It became too embarrassing, so I moved on to something I could manage.”
“And that was…?”
“Needlework.”
“I’ll bet you’re amazing.”
“Oh, I am! If needlework ever makes the Olympics, I’m in.” She laughed. “I could teach you.”
He grima
ced. “No thanks.”
“I taught Marco to crochet.” She smiled as she recalled the two of them leaning over the counter in the Gallery while she taught him the chain stitch. He was so fun to watch because he took it so seriously.
Bryce’s face appeared stuck in a grimace. “I’ll leave the knitting to Marco.”
“Crocheting.”
“Whatever. Let’s skate.”
“Okay, but prepare to watch me fall—more than once.”
“You won’t, because I’ll catch you.”
She could hardly turn down an offer like that, especially with those blue eyes shining at her. “Okay.”
He took her hand, and they ran to the kiosk. Ten minutes later, they were laced up and skating. As promised, whenever she started to falter, he caught her. Moving forward, hand in hand with him, Lydia was struck by the strangest sensation. They were having fun. She was on a date, feeling happy and carefree, with none of the usual angst that she felt when she’d gone out with others, especially Marco. Not that any time she spent with Marco could be classified as a date, but she wished that it could. Being with Bryce was different. They were so entirely at ease with each other, and Lydia thought she could enjoy getting used to the feeling.
An hour later, they turned in their skates, and Bryce took her home. They sat parked outside Lydia’s apartment and talked until the windows fogged up.
Lydia said, “I better go in before my mother gets the wrong idea.”
Bryce smiled gently and said, “I don’t know about the wrong idea. It seems like a good idea.” Then he leaned closer and touched his lips to hers. They were soft, and his kiss was so gentle and nice that Lydia couldn’t help but smile as they parted.
“See you at school.”
“Bye.”
He waited until she closed the apartment door behind her, then she heard him drive off. After a quick climb up the stairs and a hasty hello to her mother, she went to her room, then she collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Maybe Bryce was her chance. Maybe she would finally get over Marco.