Page 43 of Teaching Tanner

“Maybe. But I don’t usually take Nash to school. I don’t collect him, either… except on Fridays.”

“Fridays?”

“Yeah. He comes to my place every weekend.”

“I see. But today isn’t Friday in case you didn’t notice, and you were there, so…”

“I know. I called his mom and asked if I could pick him up.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I wanted to see you, Zara.” He shifts in his seat, moving closer. “This may not be the way things are done these days, but I can’t see the point in pretending.”

“Pretending about what?”

“Anything.” He looks down at our joined hands and then raises his eyes to mine again. His expression has changed, although I can’t work out what it means. He looks more serious, and perhaps a little intense. “I like you,” he says. “A lot.”

I know the answer to that should probably be to remind him he doesn’t know me. Except that doesn’t seem important, and I glance down, noticing the slight ridge on his ring finger, where he must have worn a wedding band… once upon a time. Still, he’s not wearing one now, and I look up at him again, smiling. “I don’t know how things are done, either, but I like you too, Tanner.” That’s not strictly true. My feelings for him go a lot deeper than ‘liking’, but this is a good place to start, and the way he grips my hand and nods his head makes me think he feels the same.

At that moment, the waiter brings the wine, which Tanner has to taste. He does so, looking as though he knows what he’s doing, and nods his approval to the waiter, who pours a little into each of our glasses and leaves again.

“I hope red’s okay?” Tanner says as we clink our glasses together. “I went for something quite light.”

“I don’t know the first thing about wine, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.” We continue to stare at each other, like we couldn’t stop if we wanted to. I know I couldn’t.

“If you’re not a budding wine connoisseur, what do you do in your spare time?” he asks.

“I read. My collection of books is astounding.”

He grins. “You enjoy reading?”

“I always have done.”

“So, you might be interested to know I own the bookstore?”

“The one I was looking at when you…”

“When I walked right into you because I wasn’t paying attention? Yes… that very one. I inherited it from my parents.”

“Inherited?” I lean back a little. “You mean, they’re…?”

He nods his head. “My dad died when I was in my early twenties, and then Mom ran the store by herself for a while, until she got cancer, and…” He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. His expression does it for him.

“Did you work with them?” I ask, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, which makes him smile.

“No. Back then, I was employed by a large book distribution company based in Concord.”

“I see. So, you still had a book-related job?”

“I suppose. Although it was mostly paperwork, and to be honest, I hated it. The pay was great, but I’ve never been so bored in my life. When Mom’s cancer was diagnosed, and it was clear she wouldn’t be able to keep things going at the bookstore, I resigned from my job and took over from her.”

“Did you have to move back here?”

He shakes his head. “No. We were already living in Hart’s Creek, and I was commuting into Concord every day. It’s not that far, and I didn’t mind that aspect of it. It was just the work that I didn’t enjoy.”

“We? You were married by then?”

“Yes.”

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