Page 5 of Wandering Closer

“Stupid realtor things. I had a sale fall through due to lack of funds, and a buyer I’ve been working with for two years came by today. She has something negative to say about every home I show her. I swear, I will be working with her in ten years and still won’t have a home to sell her that fits her list.”

I scrunch my nose at the thought of that. I have patience, but I would hate that. “You’re a better person than me. I would tell her to take a hike. Literally.” The server stops by then, taking our orders and refilling our water glasses.

As he walks away from the table, Michele leans forward, her eyes filled with mischief. “I’m one of two realtors in town, so I’ll put up with her and reward myself with margaritas. But enough about me. I need to hear everything about you. You’re an author, right? What kind of books do you write? What made you want to move here from Phoenix?” Her tone is all no-nonsense, so I try to explain without oversharing.

“Writing has always been my passion, but I didn’t pursue it right away. I was an executive assistant at a financial firm, but it wasn’t my dream. So on the side, I started writing a hockeyromance series. Here I am, four books later, with an amazing publisher and pursuing writing full time. I have a baseball romance series in the works next.” I lightly spin my margarita glass in a circle, trying to brush off the next part. “It was time to leave Phoenix. It never felt like home to me, and here already does. It feels like the perfect setting to focus on my writing.”

Michele remains quiet, so I slowly look up at her. Her head is cocked a little to the side in question, but whatever she sees on my face, she must understand because she nods her head. “I love a good romance book. Please tell me it’s spicy. I’ll read it immediately!”

Our laughs ring out as I take another sip of my drink. “Very spicy. Have you seen the stretches those men do on the ice?” I fan myself playfully. “Imagine how those skills must transfer to other activities.”

She sighs wistfully, “I could use some of those other activities.”

“I’m good performing on my own for a while,” I giggle, then freeze, realizing I said that aloud. My cheeks heat beyond the flush I was already getting from the margarita. “That was an overshare, so sorry. No men around here have caught your attention?”

“Please, that was a boring overshare. Next time, at least make it good. And no, I’ve grown up with most of these men. I either struggle to see them as more than the stupid teens they used to be, or they don’t want the same things as me. I want stability. A man who enjoys spending nights at home with me. Realtor hours can sometimes be crazy, and I want someone who is home when I get there. Someone to take care of, and who takes care of me in return, you know?”

Her words hit hard, because I do know. My voice comes out a little quieter than I intended. “I completely understand that.”

Our meals come and we dig in, both of us seemingly in our heads. I wanted stability, too, someone to build a life with. Instead, I believed in a man who said all the right things, despite the red flags that I saw. I let myself be made a fool of, in the pursuit of happiness and a future. It was a mistake I wouldn’t be making again.

“Did you get in touch with Jake?” Michele asks in between bites.

“Yes! He is bringing the pieces I chose tomorrow evening. He sent me pictures of some of the stuff he had on hand. He’s not sketchy, right? Since he is coming to my house to drop it off?” I ask, setting my napkin on my empty plate.

“Not at all,” she laughs. “He’s around your age, looks a little intimidating sometimes, but ridiculously nice. My dining table, coffee table, outdoor set, and chairs around my firepit were all made by him. If you want the best, you get it from Jake.”

“Everything looked so beautiful. I’m getting an outdoor couch from him as well, and a rocking chair to sit by the fireplace. It’s clear this is what he was made to do.”

She sets down her fork and stacks her empty plate on mine before refilling our margarita glasses. “How is everything coming along in the cabin? Have you made any changes yet?”

I can’t keep the excitement from my voice. “I painted the bedroom and cleaned everything. I replaced some of the hinges on the doors that were rusted and even installed a new toilet seat. They may be small things, but they are major for me, and I am really proud. I think fixing the deck and updating the bathroom are the first major projects I am going to tackle.”

“That’s amazing, Lily. You’re going to have that place transformed in no time. You should be really proud of yourself.” She clinks our glasses in cheers. It’s been a while since someone has told me they were proud of me, aside from when Andrea loves the chapters I send her. I think I heard it once at the firmin the almost six years I worked there. My parents told me when I graduated college with their desired degree for me. But lately? Lately I hadn’t felt very proud.

Hearing it from Michele with such a genuine tone strikes a chord. I hide the rush of emotion behind a big sip. “Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

We finish off our pitcher, talking more about the town, the people, and taking on renovations as a single woman. Our time is filled with laughter and genuine enjoyment. Michele is easily my new favorite person because she exudes a confident, kind, and radiating light for life. When our last glasses run dry, we plan to make this a weekly thing as often as possible, and she promises to stop by my place soon to help me decide on paint colors for downstairs.

With a hug goodbye, one that still feels a little strange but welcome, we part ways and I hop in Marge to head back home. The roads darken the further you get from town. Streetlights become fewer and farther between; my headlights and the moon are the only things lighting the road. When I pass a man and a dog running on the other side of the road, I feel a small pang of jealousy. I was braving hiking solo, but walking alone in the evening out here is a bit of a stretch for me. How I wish it wasn’t though; the evening air is crisp, and the quiet relaxing.

I slow as I pull down my street and dark driveway. I have to start remembering to turn on the porch light when I leave for the evenings, something I never had to think about in the city. With keys in hand, I trudge up my small porch and head inside. The light from the moon illuminates my living room and deck, making the small space really shine. A shiver races through me, bringing on the feeling of ‘right’. Everything about being here, now, in my home, feels like I made the right decision.

With a lightness from the margaritas, an evening with a new friend, and a peace of where I am at in life, I head upstairs to bed and crash for the night.

Waking the next morning, I finally felt an itch to write. Not only that, I wrote for the whole day without even realizing. My fingers were flying over the keys as the words spilled from my brain. It wasn’t until my stomach rumbled that I noticed it was four in the afternoon and I hadn’t even had lunch. Setting my laptop down, I picked up my phone, seeing a text from Jake from over an hour ago asking if I was still good for him to drop off the furniture this evening. I shot off a quick message, apologizing for the late reply, letting him know I would be home.

Closing up my balcony, I plugged in my laptop and set it on my bed before heading down to make a small dinner and move the sparse furniture in the living room around so I can fit my new rocking chair. I am beyond excited for the outdoor couch. I plan to park myself on it for the next few months. The crunch of tires on my gravel drive alerts me to Jake’s arrival right as I am plating up my chicken and salad, so I plop it in the fridge and throw on some sandals to meet him.

I’m anticipating a big intimidating man based on Michele’s description, and the hulking man in front of me is not far off. He’s walking up my porch as I pull open the door, and we both stop short. Jake is dressed in scuffed black work boots, dusty jeans that fit him like a glove, and a black T-shirt. Thick arms with tattoos all the way to his hands bulge from the tight shirt, and a shiver runs down my back as I take him in. It isn’t until I make my way up to his face that I see his broad smile radiating warmth.

He takes another step forward, reaching his hand out. “Hi Lily, I’m Jake. It’s nice to meet you.” His deep voice is smooth and exactly what I expected. The kind sparkle in his eyes and the bright smile are at complete odds with the rest of him, but it puts me at ease.

His hand completely covers mine, but he doesn’t squeeze hard as he shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Michele has so many good things to say about you, so it’s nice to put a face to a name.”

His laugh is loud, his chest shaking with it. “Chele is a troublemaker, but she’s good people. Plus, she seems to know all the gossip in town without ever being part of it. She’s a good one to keep around. I’m glad she got you in here, this place has real potential,” he says, nodding past me to the cabin.

“I’m really happy here already. It needs a lot of love, and lucky me, I have a lot of love to give. Can I help you carry the furniture?”

---