Page 65 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“Clowns?” I hiss.
“Some might find it strange, but what can I say? My little missus is a special one.” He strides off toward aisle 17.
I scurry after him and smack his arm.
“Anyway,” I say, “I know you think vinyl is cheap, but I really might want to consider one that looks like marble.”
“Well.” He stops and spreads his arms at the selection around us. “I think you’re going to like LVPs. Luxury vinyl planks.”
“Ooh.Luxuryvinyl?”
“Includes the wordluxury, but still in your budget,” Daniel confirms.
I beam at him, then slowly pace the aisle, taking in my options. I’m stopped in front of a gorgeous plank that’s made to look like antique black-and-white tile when my phone buzzes with a new email. I check it out of pure reflex, and then I re-read it three times, my brain fuzzy with confusion.
It must show on my face, because Daniel asks, “Everything okay?”
“Uh… I need to…” I grope around behind me for a place to sit, but I don’t want to send tile samples tumbling, so I just sit cross-legged on the floor. Daniel immediately crouches down next to me.
“Is it your grandpa?”
“No.” Startled, I look up and see that his face is serious, one linecreased between his reddish eyebrows. “It’s a work thing. I…” I exhale, set my empty coffee cup down, and read the words from the email itself. “All full-time employees must return to the office no later than Monday, July second. Attendance in the office will be expected five days a week.”
Daniel’s face merely crinkles deeper with apparent confusion. I realize that he’s so far removed from corporate tech life, he just doesn’t understand.
“I’ve been working from home for years,” I explain. “Now, with no warning, they’re saying we all have to go back to working in the office. They don’t even know I’ve been in Florida the last few weeks.”
“Will you get in trouble if they find out?”
“I don’t think they’d be happy about it.” I scan the rest of the email; the tone is stern and doesn’t mention any exceptions to this new rule.
“When were you planning to go back home?”
An unexpectedly heavy weight fills my chest.
“Honestly?” I realize the truth as I say the words. “I wasn’t. I mean, not for a while. I kept kicking the can down the road, because things kept coming up, and—well, because I like it here. I feel different here.”
“Different how?” Daniel cocks his head. This man who lives so vibrantly in the world, staying active and busy and talking to people all day long. How could he understand what my life is like at home? Solitary. Quiet. Absolutely devoid of humidity.
“I feel… useful here.” I leave it at that for now.
He nods. He knows all about Gramps and Pebble Cottage, so I suppose this makes sense to him.
“And now you have to go back,” he says.
“By the end of the month.”
We don’t say anything for a long minute. My butt is gettinguncomfortable on the hard floor, but I want to curl up and stay right here. The idea of leaving Gramps, of leaving Pebble Cottage unfinished, of leaving the beach… of going back to my lonely apartment, of being forced to commute to a sterile office building to do my boring job under Kat’s watchful eye… it’s too much. It’s way too much.
Boldly, I look up at Daniel, still crouching in front of me. There’s no denying that part of me wanted something to happen between us. I mean, that kiss outside the mermaid bar is not something I’ll easily forget. Deep down, I’d thought that maybe, as we worked together on Pebble Cottage, something would unfold naturally. And I know it was unlikely, because of his history with a failed long-distance relationship. But now, it’s absolutely impossible. It’s taken me years to get over my last ex; there’s no reason for me to start something new when it has no chance of going anywhere. I’m not going to do that to myself. Or to Daniel.
I have three weeks left. Now is the time to get things done, not to fantasize about what might have been.
Daniel has held eye contact as these thoughts raced through my head. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He offers me a hand and helps me up.
“Well,” he says, letting go quickly and dusting his hands on his shorts. “Then we better get cracking. No time to lose, right, Rosen?”
“Yeah. No time to lose.”
