Page 11 of One Night Collision

I blink. Holy Jesus, is she ever! But it’s doable, presuming she doesn’t have the kid between now and then. “I think I can manage it.”

“Good… Oh, we’re having a barbecue tomorrow evening. I know you close early on Wednesdays, right?”

I don’t know where this is going, but I feel like it’s probably not good. “Yeah.”

“You should come. Damien will be there… he’s our neighbor. And there’s been a lot of buzz in our group chat about the two of you.”

“Why?”

Emma laughs. “Don’t be upset. It’s all good. Lizzie saw you guys together the other day, then Troy mentioned he’d put you in touch with Damien for a legal issue… but it was pretty obvious from what Lizzie said that you all were not together in a professional capacity… For what it’s worth, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. And I’d love to see him find someone that makes him happy.”

That explainshow she knew about me and him. “I don’t know that we’re in a couples’ activities spot just yet.”

“So don’t come as a couple,” she says. “Five o’clock. And bring your swimsuit. Cody opened the pool yesterday and has had the heat cranked up in it. Fingers crossed it's ready by tomorrow.”

When Emma leaves, Hannah throws a balled-up piece of ribbon at me. “You’re dating Damien Sizemore and you didn’t tell me?”

“You’re my employee, Hannah. We’re not besties,” I remind her.

“Girl, if I was going out with someone as hot as Damien Sizemore, I would be shouting it from the rooftops. That man is fine. F. I. N. E. Fine.”

You chose this. You picked a small town because you wanted connections to people. You wanted a life where you weren’t completely isolated from everyone around you by a dickhead of an ex-husband.

“Take the delivery to Stephenson’s,” I tell her.

“The funeral isn’t till tonight.”

“Take the delivery, Hannah. I’ll finish up here.”

When she leaves, my cell phone rings in the pocket of my apron. When I pull it out and glance at the screen, it takes every ounce of strength I have to force myself to answer. And I only do that because I know she will just call back until I do. “Hi, Mom!”

“Margaret,” she says. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, Mom. How are you?” We talk to each other like strangers.

“I’m quite well, dear. I just thought, in light of recent developments, I should check in on you.” She waits a beat for me to ask her about these recent developments, but when I don’t take the bait, she sighs. “I certainly never imagined that Cal would move on so soon after the divorce. Certainly, I never expected that he’d announce his engagement! It hasn’t even been a year! When I saw it in the papers, I just thought you must be so upset.”

“It hasn’t been a year since the divorce was finalized, Mom, but Cal and I separated three years ago… and I don’t care. He canmarry whoever he wants to. And I will pray for her, because she’s going to need it.”

“Margaret—”

The bell over the door jingles again and I see Damien standing in the doorway. I’m batting a motherfucking thousand today. “Mom, I have to go. A customer just walked in.”

“Well, let your assistant?—”

“She’s on a delivery, Mom. Loveyoubye.”

He points up at the old-fashioned bell on the door. “Saved by the bell has never been more obvious. I’m not even sure you’d finished speaking before hanging up.”

I shrug. “Things with my mom are… complicated.” Mostly because she thinks I should have tolerated habitual infidelity, manipulation, gaslighting, and the slow crushing of my soul for the sake of financial security. But I’m not ready to tell him all that. “What are you doing here?”

He leans down and smells some of the roses that are in a bucket on the counter, then shakes his head. “They don’t smell as good as I expected. They don’t really smell at all.”

“Lots of modern hybrid roses don’t. And you didn’t answer my question.”

He puts his hands in the pockets of his pants. His cuffs are rolled back, showing off tanned forearms. The suit jacket is gone and the tie is a memory, probably draped over something in his office. “I saw Emma and she told me she invited you. And I don’t want you to feel pressured by my friends into making some sort of public appearance that you don’t feel ready for.”

I’m a little relieved and a little insulted. “Are you worried about me feeling uncomfortable, or you?”

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