“So I guess you’re pretty well stocked up for food, then?”
“Yes. I might share some if you’re nice.”
“I’m always nice,” he said.
“Not always.” He hadn’t been that nice to her on Christmas.
“Ah, well, I’m usually nice then and I promise to be tonight.” He sighed. “About the other day . . .”
She held her hand up. She was not rehashing this. The whole situation was ridiculous. “Don’t. Just let it be.”
“Marissa.”
“Mike, let it be.” Her voice brokered no discussion, she hoped. They were not rehashing it.
“I just . . .” He got up off the beanbag and came and sat on the floor beside the sofa. “I just don’t handle things very well.”
“Oh really, Mike, I hadn’t noticed.” Her sarcastic tone was all too evident. “Like right now I’m telling you don’t go there and you don’t seem to be listening.”
“I just want . . .”
She stood up and stormed into the kitchen. “What about what I want, Mike? Does that not have any weight at all? I don’t want to talk about this. End of discussion.”
The truth was no one listened to her, what she wanted seemed to be of so little consequence to anyone. Her parents had up and left without considering her, and Mike certainly didn’t care about her feelings and what she needed. She was sick of it.
She pulled open the fridge and got out the nice cheese she’d bought for the evening. What she wanted right now was a glass of wine, some nice brie, and to escape right back into that romance novel.
She felt the warmth of him before she heard him. He was right behind her in the small kitchen
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I’m insensitive and emotionally stunted and I don’t listen. I’m sorry.”
“You forgot arrogant, closed-minded, and juvenile.”
“I did.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “You are correct. You and Todd are the only people in my life that matter to me, and I don’t want to make you mad.”
“I’m up there with Todd, huh?” She turned to face him.
“You are indeed.” He gave her his half smile. “So, I’m really sorry that I continue to make you crazy mad with me, and I will try to do better, starting right now.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Shall we hug it out?” He stepped in and engulfed her in a warm hug. She loved the feel of his arms around her and the piney smell of him. She didn’t want to respond but her body had a mind of its own and she leaned into it.
He held on for a long time. Maybe he really did feel bad that he’d hurt her feelings. The point was she did have feelings and she needed to protect herself.
“Okay, great. Now I’m starving. Cheese?” she asked.
“Sure, cheese is good.”
Two hours later, they were playing a very robust game of Scrabble on the floor, and the snow was coming down so hard it was almost a whiteout outside. Marissa was two for one on the wines, and they’d polished off the brie and the cheddar. He probably should get up and get some more food into her, but she seemed content.
She was chewing on her lower lip, trying to figure out her word. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, and he honestly didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more adorable.
“Too many vowels,” she mumbled.
He was losing, not exactly on purpose, but truthfully, he wasn’t giving it his best. He knew she’d be mad if she knew, but they’d finally reached a point of appeasement and he didn’t want to upset the apple cart by having her lose. She was usually a fierce competitor at everything; it was one of the things that was always perplexing about her. Sweet as pie but wildly competitive. She was known around town as the girl with the best poker face and she didn’t lose often there either. He was pretty sure half the men in town had lost their shirts to sweet little Marissa.
She played the word pea. Not exactly a world-beater and worth only a few points.
“Sorry, I think I’m tired,” she said by way of explanation.
“We can stop, you know,” he suggested.
“Do you mind? I’m kind of beat.”
He picked the board up and poured the letters into the pouch. “Clearly I don’t.”
“So, I don’t have a sleeping bag for you, Mike.”
“That’s okay; I’ll just sack out on a beanbag.”
“Sure. There are blankets,” she said, pointing to a pile stacked in the children’s section.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve sat in cars overnight for stakeouts back when I was in New York; a beanbag is nothing.”
“Okay. I’m off to clean my teeth.”
Mike busied himself clearing the plates away and putting the Scrabble away. He was fairly sure Marissa wasn’t planning to change into a sexy negligee for her solo library sleepover but the thought of it had his libido on fire. He really needed to get a grip here.
He arranged a couple of beanbags together and threw a couple of blankets over them. It looked like he’d be sleeping beneath Thomas the Tank Engine and some Disney Princesses. He wasn’t sure his plan to stay the night in the library and win his way back into Marissa’s affections would be helped by this.
Mike was on his beanbags under the children’s blankets looking way too adorable. Stripped down to a T-shirt and with his hands behind his head, she could see the bulging muscles of his biceps. That home gym was really working for him. He looked way too good.
Part of her was happy he was here. It wasn’t like she all of a sudden despised him, but it was hardly helping her with the whole moving on plan because the truth was, except when he was being an emotional moron, she really liked him. She loved the way that when he smiled it always started on the right side of his mouth and then spread across, she liked the way he often shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet like a recalcitrant schoolboy, and she liked the way when people talked to him he seemed to be really listening. And the biceps, she liked those, too.
It was dark in here now except for a glow of moonlight through the large glass windows. She could see the snow piling up outside and she was glad she had decided not to stay at the farm. She was questioning a lot of her decisions lately, but not that at least.
She wondered why that was, when she’d become that way. She’d been a hundred percent certain she wanted to be a librarian and that this was where she wanted to work. She’d never questioned her desire to come back and live in her hometown. When her parents needed extra care, she’d never questioned that decision either. And her love for Mike, well it might have been unrequited, but she’d never questioned her feelings or the fact that he would come around.
Lately, though, she couldn’t help but wonder if all those decisions were wrong. Had her certainty made her miss out on better, bigger things? She didn’t know for sure. Now she was dealing with being uncertain and she wasn’t really sure how to be that person.
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
She couldn’t see his face especially well in the dark. “Do you look back and wish you’d done things differently?”
“What things?”
“I don’t know, maybe worked somewhere else, not taken over the paper . . .” Not married that girl, she thought but didn’t add.
“Not really. Well, not those things anyway. I have many things I think I should have done differently though. I guess most people do.”
“Regrets?”
“Not regrets because that is wasted energy.” His voice was soft and soothing. “But things you’d have done differently if you’d had more information or been able to see the outcome.”
“Makes sense.”
“Why, what are you regretting?”
“I don’t know . . . a few things. Stuff I was so sure of, now, I’m not so sure.”
His voice took on a kind edge. She’d always loved his voice; it had a nice low timbre to it. “You’ve had a bit of an upheaval of late. I think it is normal to be a bit reflective. You m
ade those decisions then and they were right, maybe different circumstances call for new choices.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She sighed. “I guess the thing is I’m not sure what I want now. Or maybe I have just realized I can’t have what I want.”
“Or maybe you can,” he said.
“No, I’ve been assured I can’t,” she said.
“Yeah . . . about that . . .”
Chapter 17
This was the moment.
“What?”
“Maybe whoever told you that was wrong,” he said. He could feel his chest tighten and small rivers of sweat form across his palms. This could go well or badly.
She was very still on the sofa, too still.
“You do realize I’m talking about you?” she said after what felt like an impossibly long time that was probably about fifteen seconds.
“I do.”
He heard her sit up on the sofa. “What the hell, Mike?”
He moved across the room to sit next to her on the coach. He could smell the sweetness of her. He sat close so their thighs were pressed together and reached for her hand. She let him take it.
“I think that I kind of screwed up.”
“Kind of?” Her pitch was high and shrill.
“Okay, I definitely freaked out, and I obviously feel things for you beyond friendship and . . .”
“And you’re a human yo-yo. Up down, yes no, backward forward.”
“I know.”
She withdrew her hand and stood up, pacing.
“You can’t just do this.”
“I just want to apologize and say I know I was wrong and . . .”
“A coward.”
“Yeah and that.” He was too much of one to use the word. “And I’m sorry. We do have something between us and I guess I got scared.”
“Why?”
“Uhm, well, I guess as you know I was very committed to the idea of not ever having a long-term relationship and maybe that was wrong of me. But it’s taken me a while to come around.”
“Come around?” He could tell this wasn’t going well, but he wasn’t sure why.
“It took me a while to let that go and embrace the idea.”
“The idea?”
“Yeah.”
Marissa was blown away, and not in a good way. After ten years, he’d finally allowed himself to embrace the idea of a relationship to come around. This wasn’t a profession of love; it didn’t have anything to do with her.
“You’ve accepted that you were wrong to think a monastic life was for you?” She was shaking her head and her hands were firmly planted on her hips, but she wasn’t sure if he was getting that.
“Yes, and I’m sorry about that.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
“It’s called mirroring; it’s a process people use to be sure they have the true gist of what the other person is saying.”
“Right. And you don’t understand what I’m saying?” He was standing in front of her now.
“Sadly, I think I do.”
“Sadly?”
“You’re saying that after years of resistance I have finally worn you down.”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that.”
“I would.”
“I thought . . .”
“You thought what? That you’d tell me that even though you’ve rejected both the idea of relationships in general and the idea of a relationship specifically with me for a number of years, and quite publically I might add, that you’ve changed your mind after a few darkened hours in a library with me, so, bang, let’s get it on?”
“Ah, that’s not . . . none of this . . . no, Marissa, you’re putting words in my mouth.”
She shook her head. If she was a woman who swore, she’d be letting it rip, instead she ran through some choice expletives in her head.
“I’m going to sleep.”
She stormed back to the sofa, pulled the blanket up, and turned her back to him. He didn’t seem to move for a long time and then she heard the rustle of the beanbag.
Half an hour later, she was still wide awake.
Mike needed to fix this. She was as pissed as he’d ever seen her. It had come out wrong but there was some truth to what she’d said. He was scared and she’d been waiting so long for him to come to his senses she didn’t trust him. She was right not to.
“I know you’re awake. That all came out wrong. I wanted to say I’d like to try with us, see if the mutual attraction we both know we have is more than that or if you find me utterly intolerable when you get to know me better. I can see from your point of view I’ve been too long to get to this point, and you don’t trust me. So, let me just say that if you think you might like to try dating me, I would like that.”
She remained silent, then he heard her roll over.
“Mike, I’m going to be really honest with you.”
“Okay.”
“I want to believe this is a legitimate thing but I’m not sure I can.” Her voice was small and sad.
“Tell me what I can do to convince you.”
“The thing is, people already feel sorry for me.”
“They don’t.”
“They do. Poor single Marissa, the lonely librarian, pining for Mike . . .”
“No one thinks that.” His beanbag crinkled as he leaned forward.
“Yeah, they do, so I can’t be having you pity-date me and then change your mind. I have to live in this town.”
“I’m not pity-dating you.”
“Says you,” she teased.
“Yeah, says me. Tell me how I can show you?”
She waited a minute. “I’m going to need some serious wooing, Mike.”
“Wooing?”
“Yep, good, old-fashioned wooing.”
“What exactly does good, old-fashioned wooing look like?”
“That part you are going to have to figure out all by yourself.”
He was a smart guy; he could do that. He was sure wooing involved chocolates, moonlight, candlelight, and flowers. Beyond that, he wasn’t too sure but he’d figure it out because now that he had a chance, he sure as hell wasn’t going to blow it.
“Okay, Marissa, you can look forward to a thorough wooing.”
“That sounds kind of dirty, Mike.” She sighed. “Good night.”
No way would he be sleeping now, not when she’d just put that thought in his mind.
Mike was gone when she woke up. She heard him leave, but it was still dark out so she’d rolled over and tried to catch a bit more rest. That had been impossible. Honestly, that was not the mellow night she’d expected. She flicked on the television and saw the storm wasn’t as bad as predicted. She heard the plows in the street outside. She slipped into her work clothes, made a fresh pot of coffee, and had a granola bar for breakfast.
She was in behind her desk by seven thirty. It was a snow day, which meant there’d be lots of kids, especially teens, in today. If she could finish up her paperwork first, that would free her up to be more hands-on, which was the part of her job she liked most. Being busy also kept her a little distracted from the chaos of her life. Chaos Mike seemed to be quite keen on adding to.
Just before opening, she received a text.
Just realized we’ve never had a first date—are you free for lunch at the ice-cream parlor?
She couldn’t help but smile. He was right; they never had had a first date. Or any official date at all.
One o’clock?
C u there.
She supposed this was as good a way of wooing her as any. At least he wasn’t letting the grass grow. She unlocked the door and was met with several regulars keen to tell their stories of the storm and check that she was fine. Often she thought of the library as a community center as much as anywhere.
The morning flew by and was the busiest she’d had in weeks so that by the time she locked the door and fixed her hair and lipstick to go meet Mike, she really ha
dn’t had much time to consider yet again what the state of their relationship was.
Mike watched Marissa arrive, and he was ridiculously nervous because his first date idea sounded silly to him, but he was nothing if not committed to the idea. He’d left the library and headed home to look online how to romance a woman. He’d found a whole lot of sites, some of which were wildly inappropriate; nevertheless, one site had suggested couples who knew each other well go back to the beginning as if they were on a first date.
So here he was, standing up from the table and saying to Marissa, “Oh, you must be Marissa, I’m Mike.”
She blinked at him, surprise in her big brown eyes. “Lovely to meet you, Mike.”
It seemed she was playing along at least.
“So you’ve come from work, what do you do?” he asked.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really. I thought perhaps a fresh start would be good.”
“And this idea came from?”
“The Internet. Put romance in a search engine sometime if you’d like to learn more than you bargain on.”
“You did that for me?” He nodded at her. “Okay, Mike, I’m a librarian. Busy day today, snow brings people to the library.”
“You’d think they’d be sledding.”
“Octogenarians not so much.”
“Ah, makes sense.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m a journalist.”
“Oh, that sounds exciting. Have ever been to a war zone?”
“Unless you count the local town council, not lately. Although, they’re less kind than many soldiers.”
“I’m starving. I’ve only had a granola bar and a pot of coffee today.”
“Well, the woman who runs this place makes the best grilled cheese in New Hampshire. I know it’s not fine dining, but it will be delicious.”
She closed her menu and smiled at him. “If that’s what you suggest . . .”
Chloe came and took their order. She looked confused but said nothing.
“I like her,” she said to Mike.
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