“The expression is about pigs flying, Christie,” Sophie says.
“I know. It was a joke. I was horsing around,” he replies with an eyebrow waggle.
Erin shakes her head. “Lame.”
“It’s a good thing you’re cute, Christie,” Sophie shakes her head, “because with jokes like those, there’s no way I’d be dating you otherwise.”
He scoffs. “Nice.”
“I’ll see you back at the car, okay?” I say, interrupting their repartee.
I make my way around to the back of the arena where I’m met with the woman who took our tickets on arrival. “Can I help you?” she asks.
“I need to get backstage. Is that possible?”
“Are you one of the moms?”
“Yes, I am.” I hope she doesn’t notice my nervous cheek twitch.
“Okay. Go ahead.” She pulls the door open, and I thank her before I step through it.
Backstage, the place is busy with people, from the kids to the parents, and a few adults in a variety of costumes. At least Seth’s not the only adult. I spot him talking with a man dressed in equestrian hat, tails, and boots, just like he is.
He looks up at me, his brow creased in confusion. “Darcy. What are you doing back here?”
I glance at the man at his side. Luckily, he gets the hint and melts away into the crowd.
“I, ah, came to see you,” I begin.
A whisper of a smile forms on his lips. “I can see that. The show’s not done yet.”
“I know.”
“I’m in the final.” He beams at me.
“That’s . . . awesome.” What else can I say?
“This is Fin,” he says, brandishing his hobbyhorse at me. “You can pet him if you want.”
Oh, this is getting weirder and weirder by the minute.
I reach out and touch Fin’s synthetic mane with my fingertips before I hastily pull them away.
Suddenly, that whole weird conversation about what you see when you look at a garden spade makes sense. Seth wanted me to see a horse when I looked at his hobbyhorse. A real, living, breathing horse. I shake my head, my mind whirring. Fin’s the spade.
He studies my face. “What’s up?”
“I, ah, I wasn’t expecting Fin to be, well, what he is.” I gesture at his hobbyhorse.
He narrows his eyes. “You’re not into this.”
I shake my head slowly.
“You know, hobbyhorsing is a really great thing. It helps a lot of people. Kids with a lack of confidence. People suffering from depression. All sorts of things. It’s helped me get over the loss of Han Solo.”
I bite my lip as I recall the photograph of the beautiful Thoroughbred he showed me on our first date. “Was Han Solo like Fin?” I ask tentatively, wondering just how deep his delusion actually runs. I mean, did he photoshop himself onto an image of a horse? After what I’ve witnessed tonight, it’s definitely not outside the realm of possibility.
“In what way?”
“In a . . . real way. You know, was he . . . alive?”
“Of course he was,” he scoffs. “I’m not insane, you know.”
“No. No, you’re not,” I say as earnestly as I can. Inside, I’m screaming “you pretend to ride horses with a bunch of kids!” at the top of my lungs.
He stands Fin the hobbyhorse up on its end (Feet? Foot? Hoof?) and fixes me with his gaze. “I can tell you’re dubious, and I get that. Really, I do. This whole world is new to you.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
The correct question should really be, do I want to know what he’s thinking?
“What?” I ask cautiously.
“With your lovely long legs, we could compete together as a couple. Two horses, in perfect synchronicity. We would take the Hobbyhorse Couples’ Competition by storm.”
I widen my eyes. There’s a hobbyhorse competition for couples? I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Seth. I can’t see it happening. I don’t think we should see one another again.”
His face is aghast, like he really did not see this coming. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“I’m sorry, Seth.”
“But . . . your lovely long legs.”
I take a step away from him. “Sorry,” I repeat before I turn around and hurry away.
“By storm, Darcy. We could take the Hobbyhorse Couples’ Competition by storm,” he calls after me.
I’m already pushing through the door, my hopes evaporated, my need to get as far away from Seth and his stuffed toy horse almost overwhelming.
——
Erin insists on driving my car back into the city so that I can focus on de-hobbyhorse-ifying (her word, not mine, because that is so not a word, even if she insists it is). I sit back in the passenger seat and try my best to find the positive in what just happened. But really, what is the positive here? My attraction to him was tentative at best, and the guy I’ve been dating likes to jump over things holding a stuffed toy on the end of a stick between his legs. I’m sure there’s a hobbyhorser out there who’s Seth’s perfect match, but I’m not that girl. And now here I am, humiliated once again.
“He seriously asked you to compete with him?” Erin asks incredulously.
“Yup. Apparently, I have, and I quote, ‘lovely long legs.’”
Jason gives a knowing nod. “Ah, the L-word trifecta of limbs. Lovely, long, and legs.”
“Clever,” Sophie says. “I bet he wanted you two to be the Tom Brady and Giselle Bündchen of the hobbyhorse world.”
“You’re only saying that because of those lovely long legs of hers,” Jason quips.
“You are right,” Sophie says. “Darcy’s legs are lovely and long.”
“Can we please quit talking about my legs, guys?” I ask. “It’s not helping.”
“Why not? I’ve heard they’re lovely.” Jason nudges the back of my shoulder from behind me, and I let out a puff of air.
“I guess I’m disappointed. I thought he was one of the good guys, but it turns out he was just another weirdo. I don’t get it. Nothing came up when we vetted him. How did this even happen?”
“That’s true. I think we might need to tighten the process,” Erin says. “First that food-obsessed guy got through for Sophie, and now a hobbyhorse rider for you. Who knows what I’ll end up with if this unfortunate trend continues?”
“Don’t forget Davy Crockett the merman,” Jason interjects.
Although I’m pretty sure a grown man with a hobbyhorse habit trumps mermen right now.
“We need to find Darcy another date, stat,” Jason says. “Only this time, I’ll be in on the Vetting Process.”
“Because you’re so good at it?” Sophie challenges.
“I’m glad you noticed,” he replies with a wink.
“You guys are totally right. Get back on that horse, girl.” Erin realizes her blunder and adds, “Sorry, Darce.”
“No more dates,” I say firmly, my mind made up. “Why would I want to put myself out there once more, only to get knocked back? I’m not a masochist.”
“You don’t mean that.” Sophie is certain. “I had those crappy experiences, but I ended up with my Prince Charming.”
“Aw,” Jason pulls Sophie in closer to him and plants a kiss on her lips, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Sophie murmurs in reply.
“Geez, you two. Inappropriate,” Erin complains from the driver’s seat. “We’ve got sad and lonely single ladies in the car here.”
“Thanks, Erin. It’s great to be referred to as sad and lonely,” I grump.
Erin slows the car and backs it into a parallel park like a pro.
I peer out the window. “Where are we going for a drink?”
“Cozy Cottage Café,” Erin announces. “We can catch the end of the Friday Night Jam. Wine, food, and entertainment. All of which will take your mind off hobbyhorses tragically named after characters from Star Wars.” She leans
closer to me and adds, “Alex isn’t working here tonight, so you won’t have to deal with all that, too.”
I give her a weak smile. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Always,” she replies.
We get out of the car and enter the café. Inside, the place is filled with chatter and music.
“Shall we get a table?” I glance nervously around. Even though I know he’s not working tonight, I half expect Alex to jump out and laugh at me and my hobbyhorser date. Or ex-date. Whatever.
“There’s one,” Sophie says, immediately making her way to the back of the café where a group of people has recently vacated a table.
We follow her and take our seats.
“I’ll get the drinks. Who’s having what?” Jason looks at me. “Whatever you’re having, Darce, I’ll make it a double.”
I know alcohol can’t blot out the memory of my humiliation, but I give him a weak smile. “Thanks, Jas. Chardonnay, please.” Jason leaves the table, and the conversation inevitably returns to Seth the hobbyhorser.
“I thought hobbyhorses were a tween thing,” Erin says.
“I saw a documentary about it once. It’s big in Finland, right? OMG,” Sophie exclaims. “Seth is Finnish, right?”
“Yes,” I groan. “Can we not talk about it now? I’d really rather like to forget about Seth and his hobbyhorses.”
“Sorry, babe,” Sophie says.
The band returns to the makeshift stage, and the lead singer announces their next song. As they play the opening bars, Sophie nudges me. “Oh, no. Alex just walked in.”
I don’t know why I thought Alex wouldn’t turn up tonight. Because of course he does. He was always going to. See me at my lowest, watch me struggle through my dashed hopes. Not that I think he’d do that anymore, not after the way we opened up to one another at the gallery this afternoon. But I did make a big deal about going to see Seth ride his horse.
With my heart thudding and my insides twisted, I watch as he strides across the floor to the counter. He looks as he always does—confident, in control, and comfortable with where he is in life. Well, other than when Chetana rears her impossibly beautiful head, that is. He looks . . . well, then I want to collect him in my arms and wipe away his heartbreak.
“Are you all right to see him? We could leave,” Erin says, interrupting my thoughts.
“It’s fine,” I reply, even though I know it’s not. “He has every right to be here.”
“I’m sorry, Darce,” Sophie says. “I figured he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t working. I guess he was at the gallery next to High Tea.”
Of course. That’s where he would have been, still working on the exhibition while I found out the guy I’m dating is a weirdo. “You two are so sweet, but really, I’m a big girl. I can handle seeing Alex. We’ve, well, we’ve made our peace, I guess.”
Both sets of my friends’ eyebrows shoot up.
“You have?” Erin asks.
I nod. “He apologized for what he did in high school. Everything’s good between us now.” I sound a lot more convinced than I feel. Seeing Alex right now, knowing what a big deal I’d made of going to watch Seth show jump, could well twist the knife of mortification just that little bit more.
I don’t have to wait long to find out. He and Jason arrive at our table, and Jason passes me my drink as Alex pulls up a chair and sits right next to me. I look at him out of the corner of my eye and brace myself.
“Hey, Darcy,” he says gently, his features soft, his eyes…what? Kind?
I study him more closely. Yup, definitely kind. Really, I don’t know why I thought he’d be anything but. I guess bad habits die hard. I’ve hated Alex for so long now, I’m used to expecting the worst from him. But this is the all-new Darcy and Alex Show. We’re good now.
Part of me wonders whether I’ve been wrong about him, that maybe he’s always been like this, and I’ve never given him a chance.
“Hey, Alex,” I reply.
He places his hand on the back of my chair, his arm brushing my shoulder, and says, “I wanted to thank you again for listening to me talk about Chetana before. It really helped me. You’re, well, you’re a good person.”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. It was nothing.”
His gaze is intense when he replies, “It wasn’t nothing. It meant a lot to me.”
My throat tightening, I try out a smile. “We’re friends now, remember?”
He returns my smile, his handsome face lit up. “I remember.”
My heart squeezes, and I pick up my drink to take a sip.
“Jason told me about the horse thing.”
I chew on the inside of my lip. “He did, huh?”
“It sounds like a rough night. I’m really sorry. You liked him a lot, right?”
I nod, although I know it’s not true.
“I had something like that happen to me once,” he continues. “Well, it didn’t involve hobbyhorses, exactly, more like a girl pretending to be something she wasn’t.”
“That sucks.”
“It did at the time, but you know what? You’ll get over him.”
Warmth spreads from my belly up across my chest as I look up into his soft eyes. “Thanks.”
“I had to google what a hobbyhorse is, you know.” He shakes his head. “What the hell is a grown man doing running around with a stick between his legs. It’s for kids. And that stick is right next to some serious equipment. One wrong move . . .”
I let out a laugh. “Right?”
“See? You’re laughing about it already.” He takes another sip of his beer. “I finished doing what I could next door. This beer is my reward.”
“You’ve been working there since I left?” He nods, and I glance at my work and do a quick mental calculation. “That was three and a half hours ago.”
“I ducked out for pizza at about seven.”
“Well, I’m glad you got to eat at least,” I say, sounding like I’m his mom.
“Thanks . . . Mom.”
We share a smile that feels so amazing, it spreads from my face right down to the tips of my toes.
He drains his bottle of beer and plunks the bottle down on the table. “Right now, I’m beat. I guess I’ll see you at the gallery tomorrow.”
He’s leaving already? After he’s been so kind to me, so un-Alex? But then, maybe this is the Alex he’s always been, and I never gave him a chance? Maybe this is the guy my friends see when they tell me what a great guy he is, the guy I saw tonight at the gallery?
“But—” I clamp my mouth shut before I say anything else. A part of me wants him to stay, the part that’s thrown caution to the wind, that’s tired of denying how I feel about him. The dangerous part that will only get me hurt.
He’s in love with someone else.
I nod at him. “See you tomorrow.”
He flashes me his smile before he says goodbye to the rest of the group and leaves our table. When he reaches the door, he turns back and gives me a quick chin lift before he disappears out of the café and onto the sidewalk. I watch the door close over behind him, a heavy, sinking feeling filling me up.
Oh, no. I recognize that feeling, and it’s the last thing I could ever, ever want to happen. It’s a total and complete disaster of epic proportions. My throat tightens as something big contracts in my chest.
I’ve fallen for Alex.
Chapter 21
I reach the gallery early the next day.
Back at our apartment, Erin wanted to talk about how I felt about the Seth-slash-hobbyhorse disaster and the whole “what to do about Alex” conundrum. Only he’s not a conundrum, is he? He’s the guy I’ve fallen for, the guy who lights up the room whenever he’s in it. The guy I haven’t been able to get out of my head since the moment I laid eyes on him at Cozy Cottage Café all that time ago.
The guy who’s desperately in love with a woman he can’t be with.
And where does that leave me? Up the proverbial creek with a flimsy nail file for a paddle, that
’s where.
I need to find somewhere to be alone with my thoughts, and since I’ve got to be at the gallery today anyway, I figured it was the perfect spot to escape to.
Once inside, I relish the silence. I sip my takeout Earl Grey tea from Cozy Cottage next door and survey the room. Alex has hung some of the photos already. He must have done that last night while I was in the throes of Seth-the-hobbyhorse-rider-despair. I stand in front of a collection near the gallery entrance and notice he’s grouped them differently from the plan. Instead of sticking with all mountainous scenes in one area, people in the other, he’s paired portraits with landscapes. It works. Being different, they don’t compete with one another. Instead, they sit together in harmony.
I chew on my lip. Although I think it works beautifully, I wonder what Larissa will say. But then Alex did insist on having creative license when he agreed to exhibit, so I’m not sure she’ll be able to say a whole lot.
I place my takeout cup on the polished concrete floor and sit down next to it, like Alex and I did when he told me about Chetana yesterday. Wow, was that only yesterday? Right now, it feels like a gazillion years ago. Emotionally, I’ve gone into overdrive. The insanity with Seth, finding peace with Alex, and then realizing the full extent of my feelings for him. It’s been quite the twenty-four hours.
I take a sip of my tea, allowing the warm liquid to slip down my throat.
A pickle, that’s what I’m in. A big, fat, juicy pickle. Whenever I’ve heard that expression before, I’ve always imagined someone floating around inside a gigantic jar of pickles. Well, it’s me in that jar right now, and the lid is screwed on super tight. There’s no way to get out.
I’ve fallen for a guy who chose Cora Huntington over me after our very first kiss back when we were teenagers. But it doesn’t end there. Oh, no. That wouldn’t be nearly enough for me and my big, juicy pickle. Fast forward to today, and that guy is in love with someone else. There. That’s the winner. That’s the biggest pickle in the whole freaking jar. I’ve got some seriously big feelings for Alex, and he’s in love with a girl whose name is so whimsical and romantic and means “to be perceptive.”
No More Terrible Dates Page 19