Page 27 of The Ruse of Romancing
My grandparents were the picture of everything a couple should be. Not that I had plans to settle down, but if I ever did, I wanted my relationship to look just like theirs when I was old and gray. It was how I imagined my parents would have been had my dad survived long enough to reach old age, instead of being stolen from our family by an unexpected heart attack.
“What brings you out this way?” I asked, one of my knees bouncing as I waited for their response. While they occasionally stopped by without a reason, more often than not, they came for a specific errand: telling me about the renovations they wanted to do next door, discussing changes to the landscape schedule, dropping off the world’s ugliest chair to add to my living room because it fit the aesthetic.
I was currently sitting in said chair and, while the plaid pattern was genuinely one of the worst design decisions I’d ever seen, it was unexpectedly comfortable.
“Can’t we just stop in and say hello?” Grandma asked as Grandpa released her hand and leaned forward in what I’d come to identify as his “business” position.
“You’re always welcome to stop by,” I said, the tempo of my leg increasing as I waited.
“Well, since you brought it up, we just wanted to check to make sure you had everything handled with the current tenant. Where she’s staying long-term, we know it’s a different scenario and requires a bit more from you than what we’ve asked for inthe past.” Grandpa’s voice was gruff and serious. Though he’d never say it, I could hear in his tone his doubt in my ability to be responsible enough to keep a guest happy for several weeks as compared to the usual guests who typically only stayed for a week at most.
“I’ve got it handled, Gramps, I promise,” I said, forcing my leg to still as I smiled and did my best to convey calm control. Sometimes I wondered if Grandpa still saw the little kid I used to be when he looked at me, instead of the grown man who was making his way in the world. Or at least trying to.
“Oh, we know you do,” Grandma said with a wave of her arm. “But we also know that sometimes it’s nice to have additional help and support. You know, your grandpa and I ran this place together. Doing it alone is a lot.” She arched an eyebrow, and I read her not so subtle message loud and clear.
They’d feel better about me running things if I had a significant other to help, someone to add what my grandma regularly referred to as a “woman’s touch.”
“I’m not interested in dating seriously, Grandma,” I said, hoping to nip this direction of conversation in the bud before it got out of control.
“I know you say that, but I can’t help but wonder. Grey’s so happy now that he’s got Audrey, and I know there’s someone great out there for you. You can’t let what Rebecca did—”
“Grandma,” I said, cutting her off before she could wander too far down memory lane. Those memories were better left forgotten and ignored, not rehashed and unleashing the loneliness and self-doubt they triggered. “I’m working on my art. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“There’s always time for a relationship,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.
Grandpa stood, walking over to me and placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, clearly understanding me better than I realized.
“Your art is important and we’re so proud of you for all you’ve been able to do so far. It would just be a shame if you let what happened in your past keep you from chasing happiness in your future.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, as I placed a hand over his.
He gave my shoulder a squeeze before shuffling back over to the couch.
“Anyway, tell us about this internet issue? Anything we can do to get it fixed faster?”
Thankful for the change in topic, I quickly jumped into an explanation, realizing as I did that I still needed to write Dani a sticky note letting her know the repair would happen in a couple of days. My stomach dipped at the thought of interacting with Dani again. I really needed to figure out a way to see her again as Allen. My non-romantic future depended on it.
Chapter 14
Dani
Drivinghomewithmyunbaked loaf of bread and my own sourdough starter, I felt an odd sizzle of excitement in my stomach. I’d never thought about myself as a sourdough person, but as Joane had talked me through the different steps, I couldn’t help but picture myself as a sourdough expert. If nothing else, the kneading of the dough would prove therapeutic whenever I was dealing with writing frustrations, which meant I’d be making sourdough daily at the rate I was going.
I’d have to pick up some bread flour and sea salt at the store. By the time we had finished up, it was late enough that I just wanted to get home and make dinner, though I’d be able to pop the loaf Joane had given me into the oven to go with whatever I decided to make. She had lent me all the tools I’d need to make sourdough while I was here in Oregon, but I’d need to purchase my own ceramic Dutch oven and Danish dough whisk when I got back to Utah, assuming I could keep my starter alive until I left.
When she’d handed me the jar with my very own piece of Carl, Joane had told me I’d have to name my starter, and that Carl Jr. was not an acceptable option. After some pondering, I’d landed on the perfect, eyeroll-worthy name. Avery would hate it, making it even more perfect: Dough-ris Day, after my favorite actress. I couldn’t help but think Doris would be pleased to be immortalized this way. Maybe.
My afternoon of sourdough making had had another unexpected side-effect. As we’d worked, I’d started to get ideas for my novel. It wasn’t a full outline yet, but I at least knew the next scene I needed to write. I’d even brainstormed a few possibilities with Joane, and she was very much onboard for the direction I was taking Hypatia and Petros’s story, even if it was a complete surprise for everyone involved, myself included. My fingers itched to pull out my laptop and get started, as soon as I had the sourdough in the oven.
As I turned the corner to access the duplex, I muttered a curse under my breath. A black car currently occupied the center of the driveway. I wasn’t sure which lady friend this car belonged to, but it wasn’t the same car I’d seen Tiffany or Veronica drive.
Should I be concerned I remembered the names of Mason’s flings I’d met so far? Or should I be more worried that it looked like there was a third woman in the mix? Also, did these women know about the existence of the others?
I parked my car on the side of the road, trying to determine my next course of action as I grumbled to myself about player neighbors. Maybe I should say something about it to the owners. I could only imagine how many times Mason’s dalliances had impacted their other renters. They really had a right to know, as it could be impacting their online reviews and income.
I had the garage door opener for my side of the duplex clipped to my sun visor, so I could get inside. I’d just have to balance all of the sourdough supplies Joane had given me or make multipletrips. The other option was to knock on my neighbor’s door and ask his guest to move their vehicle. While I was frustrated with the continued battle for the driveway, I couldn’t quite bring myself to knock. Maybe I’d write another sticky note.
Walking around to the passenger side of the car, I stooped down, slipping the strap of the reusable shopping bag Joane had lent me over one shoulder, careful to keep the sourdough starter inside from knocking into the other tools and supplies Joane had given me to keep Dough-ris Day happy and thriving.
