A Fairfield Romance Box Set 1

by Lydia Reeves

  He kissed me again, quickly, then again more slowly, until a throat cleared behind us and he pulled back with a laugh to see Geoff pulling on his jacket. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you two tomorrow?”

  His question seemed to be aimed at me, but Sam didn’t seem to notice, and I just gave a nod before looking down at my feet. As soon as my car was done, I would have to say goodbye to Geoff too, and the thought made my heart clench a little. I always hated this part.

  After Geoff left, Sam turned back to me. “I’m going to close up the store, and then we can head up?”

  “I’m going to stay for a minute and clean up the rest of my stuff, and then I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, then smiled at me again. “We’ll celebrate when you come up.”

  I forced myself to smile back, but when Sam had locked the door and turned off the main lights, after I had cleaned up the rest of my supplies, I found myself sitting on the small stepladder I had borrowed and looking around the store. I was an idiot, I told myself. I should be upstairs with Sam, enjoying his company for as long as I could. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of melancholy. I would miss this. Not just Sam, but the store, the familiar smell of books and the joy I’d felt at doing such a large, public art project. I had enjoyed that aspect of it more than I’d expected—working in public, having people stop and watch and talk to me as I worked, instead of sitting alone in front of my computer.

  My musings were interrupted by a ringing from my pocket, and I pulled out my cell phone. Tony. I answered the call.

  “Good news, Miss Price, your car is all fixed up and ready to go. I’m sorry for the delay, but we got the last piece in today and you’re good to go.”

  “Thanks, Tony, that’s great. I can come by tomorrow if that works for you?”

  “That’s perfect. We’ll be in all day.”

  When I hung up the phone, my emotions were a tight ball in my chest. Sadness at the thought of leaving this place, of leaving Sam, mixed with the apprehension I always felt at starting a new chapter, no matter how many times I had done it before. Excitement, too. I hadn’t seen Dana in years, and I really was looking forward to getting to spend some time with her.

  It was time to go. I knew it, and the sadness I felt at leaving was nothing new. It was always hard to leave people and places I’d come to love—I knew that. But there were always new places, too, I reminded myself. And unless I moved on, I would never get to fall in love with those people and places I hadn’t seen yet.

  The thought bolstered me a little. Yes. I would stay tomorrow, go to Sam’s nephew’s party with him, and then say goodbye. By Sunday, I would be back on the road.

  Still, the heavy feeling in my gut persisted.

  I was still perched on the edge of the ladder, holding the phone in my hand, and I flipped it over. I needed someone to help me make sense of all my conflicting emotions, and before the thought had fully formed, I was dialing her number.

  “Sparrow, baby!”

  My mom was the only person I let use that horrible name. And by “let,” I mean she used it no matter how much I protested, so I put up with it.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’m wonderful, darling. How are you? Where are you?”

  I laughed a little. Only my mom and I would start a conversation like that.

  “I’m in Indiana. A little town called Fairfield. What about you?”

  “Oh, I’m still in Florida, honey, but I’m not staying long. I was thinking I’d drive up the coast. Stop in North Carolina for a while.” I could hear the excitement in her voice, could almost feel it, and it helped settle my nerves a bit. It was a rush, always, the thought of setting off into the unknown, not sure where you’d end up or who you'd meet along the way. “What’s in Fairfield, honey?”

  “Oh, nothing much.” The words felt like a lie. “My car broke down on the way through to Ohio—I’m on my way to visit my friend Dana, remember her? From college?—so I stayed for a few days while my car got fixed up.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Do you have enough money for the hotel? I can send some if you need.”

  “No, that’s okay, Mom. I’m actually staying with a friend here. Sam. He owns a bookstore and lives upstairs, and he’s been putting me up while I’m here.”

  “Was Sam a friend from college too?” Mom sounded confused.

  “No, no. I just met him here when my car died.”

  “You’re living with a man you just met?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not living with him, Mom. He just offered me a place to stay. I’ve only been here a little over a week.”

  I could hear her moving around in the background. My mother was perpetually incapable of sitting still. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m just making sure you’re being careful. Don’t forget what happened in San Diego.”

  Like I could forget. San Diego had been my longest stop in one place, ever. Three years, long enough to have my own apartment, a stable job, and even a long-term boyfriend. Long enough to get complacent. Long enough for him to get bored and cheat on me, to break my heart and remind me why I didn’t stay in one place. I didn’t blame him, not really. He must have known all along I wasn’t permanent. I was never permanent; everything in my life was temporary.

  Just like this.

  “I know, Mom. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m dating Sam. I’m just staying with him until my car is fixed.”

  “When is that going to be? Honestly, Sparrow, I don’t know how that car is still running in the first place.”

  “Hey, don’t you say bad things about my car,” I said in mock defense. “She’s an old lady; you’ll hurt her feelings. Besides, she’s already fixed. I’ll get her back in the morning.”

  “So, you’re heading out tomorrow then?”

  “Probably Sunday,” I said, shifting my seat on the ladder. “I’m going with Sam to his nephew’s birthday party before I go.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, and I knew I’d messed up.

  “You’re going to his nephew’s birthday party,” she said finally, speaking slowly. “I thought you said you weren’t dating this guy.”

  “I’m not!” I protested.

  “But you’re meeting his family?”

  “I’m doing him a favor. It’s complicated; he doesn't get along with—look, it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving on Sunday regardless. And you know I don’t do long distance relationships. They never work.”

  I considered it, with Sam, just for a moment. Could we make this work long distance? But no. Even if Ohio was close enough to visit, who knew how long I would stay there, or where I would end up next. I couldn’t string him along like that.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” my mom said, her voice conciliatory. “I don’t mean to nag. I just worry about you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

  “I know, Mom,” I said quietly. She was right though. This was all too much. Too fast. I’d moved into Sam’s apartment without a thought, fallen into bed with him even though I knew I’d end up getting hurt.

  “Well, look, you have fun at the party,” she said. “And call me when you get to Dana’s, okay?”

  “I will, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetie. Be careful, okay?”

  We hung up, and I sat on the ladder, staring at my phone. She was right. I needed to be more careful. With my life, but especially with my heart.

  Chapter 10

  SAM

  The mural was more amazing than I’d imagined. It was the first thing you saw when you walked in the door to the bookstore, and it had already increased sales and traffic before it was even complete. I considered doing some kind of unveiling, maybe a special event or open house the following week. If Ellen was still around, that was. My heart clenched at the thought.

  Maybe it was time to tell her how I felt. Surely, she already knew. I was half-convinced she felt the same way. But maybe if I spelled it out for her, I could persuade her to s
tay. She could be happy with me. Happy in Fairfield. I knew it; I’d seen it.

  She was still downstairs in the store, so I set about making a celebratory dinner. I set the tiny dining room table with candles and cloth napkins and turned the lights low, before starting chicken for dinner. I tucked the bag Geoff had given me for dessert—a rainbow array of decadent macarons in a variety of flavors—into the pantry where she wouldn’t see them.

  We would talk later. I would plead my case and explain how I felt. But for now, I would just have to show her.

  * * *

  The chicken had come out of the oven and the asparagus and potatoes were just finishing up when I heard the door open. The moment she walked into the room I knew something was wrong. It was in the set of her jaw, the light in her eyes, which were closed off and wary instead of open and full of their usual sparkle.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked quietly.

  She smiled at me, but it was stiff. “Nothing is wrong. Tony called; my car is done. I can pick it up tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s great,” I said carefully. “What happens next?”

  She shrugged and looked away. “It smells great in here. Can I help with anything?”

  My heart sank. “No, it’s all done.” I gestured to the table. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

  I waited until we were both served and digging in before I broached the subject again. “Ellen, I was thinking—”

  “I’ll stay for the party tomorrow and leave on Sunday morning.” Her voice was soft, but it cut through me.

  I tried to keep my voice steady and my eyes level on her. “You could stay, you know.”

  Her expression was almost sympathetic when she looked at me. “I can’t, Sam. You know that. You knew what this was from the start.”

  Suddenly the candles and the low lighting seemed awkward and out of place. “I knew what this was, yes. But I think over the course of the last couple of weeks, it’s changed, don’t you?”

  She didn’t say anything, so I pushed on, food forgotten on the plate in front of me. “There's something there between us, you know there is. Why not give it a shot?”

  “And what?” she returned, setting down her fork. “Stay here? Live with you? We've known each other for barely any time at all!”

  I shrugged. “It's been working so far. But no, you don't have to stay with me. You could get your own place. Fairfield is a good place to live. Or we could even try long distance. I could visit on weekends, and—”

  “You know, I tried that once,” she interrupted, her tone conversational, as if she was talking about the weather instead of ripping my heart out. “I stayed somewhere. I got my own place. I had a boyfriend.”

  I waited, even though I knew this wasn't going anywhere good. “And?”

  “It didn't work. It never works.”

  “What happened?”

  She looked down at her plate. “He cheated on me. He found someone permanent. So, I left, like I should have done in the first place.”

  I raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You won't give me a chance because your last boyfriend was a jerk?”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Sure, he shouldn't have cheated, but can you really blame him?”

  “What? Yes.”

  She ignored me. “I would have left at some point. It's what I do. I can't just stay in one place forever.”

  “You can't, or you won't? Or maybe he just wasn't worth staying for.”

  “And you would be?” She gave a choked laugh and I jerked back. “You'd be okay putting up with me, always wondering when I'd get bored and decide to take off?”

  I was silent a minute, looking at her, but she refused to meet my eyes. “You know what I think?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I think it’s an excuse. I think your parents did you a disservice, moving you around so much, and now you use it as a crutch. If you move, you never have to get too close to people, let them really get to know you.”

  She shook her head and glared at me. “I let you get close. I let you know me. And look how well this worked out.”

  “I think it’s been working out fine. Until now.”

  “Well, sure! It’s all great when it’s temporary.”

  I leaned forward, frustration heating my blood. “See, that’s exactly what I mean. If you keep everything at surface level, you don’t have to put any real effort into it. Real relationships take work. How many people really know you, El?”

  “What do you mean? I have plenty of friends.”

  “Sure, but how many of them really know you, beyond seeing you in passing when you flit through town?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “What were you imagining was going to happen here?” I demanded, sitting back.

  She looked at me blankly.

  “Are we just never going to speak again? It was a fun time, but that’s it? Nice memories?”

  She winced. “No…I mean, I figured we’d keep in touch…”

  “And that’s it,” I said flatly. “A phone call every once in a while?”

  Her eyes flashed and she glared across the small table at me. “Look. I never led you on. We both knew this was going to be temporary from the start. And this is just who I am. Who I’ve always been. You can’t ask me to change who I am!”

  I wrestled my temper under control. “I’m not asking you to change. I’m asking you to consider doing what you want to do, and not what you think you’re supposed to do.”

  “I am doing what I want to do,” she snapped. “I’m seeing new places, and meeting new people. You think I don’t let people really know me, but look what happens when I do—we end up yelling at each other across the dining room table!”

  I threw up my hands. “That’s what a real relationship is like! It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes things are hard and you have to deal with it like an adult instead of running away.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Well, I didn’t ask for a real relationship.”

  I stared at her, paint still staining her fingers, hair mussed and cheeks flushed with anger. My heart twisted painfully in my chest.

  “Well, neither did I.”

  Chapter 11

  ELLEN

  I slept in the guest room that night for the first time since I’d started working on the mural. Well, “slept” was being generous. I paced. I cried. I brooded. But I didn’t open the door, no matter how much it hurt, and Sam never came, never knocked, never apologized.

  I had done the right thing, I kept reminding myself. Not in fighting with Sam; nothing about that was right. But it just served to prove I was making the right choice. It was time to go. And I hoped Sam could forgive me, and we could be friends someday. But my mom was right—I had gotten in too deep, too fast, and it was no one’s fault but my own.

  Sleep finally came, but it was fitful in the noticeably empty bed, and I missed Sam, missed the weight of him next to me, the solid pressure of his arm around my waist, the warmth of his breath stirring my hair. The thought that he was only steps away down the hallway didn’t help—he could have been miles away for how much I missed him. And when the first rays of sun began poking over the horizon and I awoke, heart aching and body stiff, I knew what I had to do.

  There was no sound from Sam’s room as I rose and dressed. It didn’t take long to pack my bag, and I carried my boxes from where they’d been stacked in the corner down the stairs, leaving them piled near the door at the bottom. I didn’t go out of my way to be stealthy, but I was still relieved when Sam didn’t wake. After my last trip I returned to survey the empty apartment. Except it wasn’t empty—it was still filled with Sam, his books, his dishes, evidence of a whole life. A life that I’d briefly been a part of, then left with no trace except for the scars on my heart. The apartment looked like I’d never been there at all, and while I’d thought that would make it easier, for some reason it just made me hurt.

  This is no one’s fault but your own, I reminded myself.


  I said a soft goodbye to the apartment, and to Sam, and I left a note for him on the kitchen counter where I knew he’d find it.

  Then I went out, locking the door behind me, and left out of the back door that led from the stairwell directly into the alley, bypassing the store in case Geoff was already there.

  Tony’s auto-repair shop was within walking distance, just down the road, and only the barest chill hung in the late summer air. I parked myself outside the office and sat on the stoop, wrapping my arms around myself and trying not to think.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Tony was an early riser too, it seemed, and though he paused when he saw me waiting, he didn’t mention it.

  “Ready to go then?”

  I nodded and followed him into the office, and after a brief explanation of what he’d done that I didn’t understand and only barely listened to, he traded me my keys for the payment and I was back in the familiar interior of my old red car just minutes later.

  I parked in the alley lot next to Sam’s truck and quickly loaded my boxes. I was glad not to have to go through the store, glad I wouldn’t have to avoid looking at the mural. I wasn’t sure why, but I was convinced it would make me cry. I hoped it would bring Sam good memories, not painful ones. He hadn’t had a chance to pay me for my work, but I was glad of that, too. I hadn’t wanted to take his money regardless. With the last of my boxes tucked into the trunk, I re-locked the back door and was gone twenty minutes after I’d arrived.

  I called Dana on my way out of town, partly to keep my mind from running in circles, but also in the hope that her familiar voice might cheer me up. Remind me why I had been excited about this move in the first place.

  It was still early yet, but the sun was up, and I remembered Dana had been a morning person back in college. Banking on the hope that not too much had changed in the intervening years, I dialed her number and held the phone up to my ear.

  It seemed to ring forever.

  “Good morning, Sparrow,” came the cranky voice at last. Oops, I must have woken her after all.