Page 29 of Lovetown, USA
“Oh, heavens no!” she says as Orlando laughs. “What I meant was, it always felt like more than dating. At our age, it’s…it’s…”
“Courting,” Orlando chimes in. “That’s what you do when it feels right and you don’t wanna let her get away from you.”
“I didn’t tell him at the time, but I wasn’t going anywhere,” Verna says, a sly smile covering her face. “It felt right to me, too.”
I nod, my pen poised over my notepad. “To what extent do you think the town helped make this happen?”
They think about that for a moment.
“Well,” Orlando says, “I think the town makes it easy to meet your person.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is it magic, or just aggressive matchmaking?”
“Little bit of both, sweetheart,” Verna says with a wink.
I don’t respond to that nonsense. I jot it down, though, because when I write this up, I need the delusion to be very apparent to the reader. I’m in the belly of the beast here, so I can practically smell it, but I have to be able to put it on the page in such a way that it jumps off and hits the reader in the face.
I have to say, I was expecting fake and flowery, but the Hudsons were kinda normal, all things considered.
In the Uber on the way back to the hotel, I stare out the window, my frustration palpable. I remind myself that good stories rarely come easy.
We pass familiar storefronts, cafes with chalkboards displaying the day’s offerings along with quotes about soulmates, and the flower shop that only sells romantic arrangements, even this far out from Valentine’s day.
Yeah.
This town is going down.
Then we pass Trey’s office.
It’s closed now, but there it is. I recognize the planter sitting just outside the door, because I bumped into it on my way out the other day. I was telling him the truth when I told him I was clumsy.
Then another memory hits me.
His lips on my lips, both upper and lower.
I squirm in the cloth seat of this SUV that smells like old cigarette smoke, pressing my thighs together to quell the sudden ache.
It’s just physical, this thing between us. That’s all it could ever be.
Because I’m never loving a man again.
9
Trey
I’m in my officeearly this morning. Much earlier than I need to be. Mornings like this, when the waiting room is still quiet and the coffee is still hot, I can actually hear myself think. I can get shit done. Right now, I’m knocking out the notes from yesterday’s appointments. Approving prescription refills. Combing through insurance forms.
Getting a slight headache.
“Pam,” I call through the intercom. “Did you sort the mail yet?”
She’s rustling around up front. “Not yet, hon. Want me to bring it all back?”
“Please.”
Pam’s been with me since I first set up shop here two years ago. I always joke with her that she’s the grandmother I never had, and she gets offended and tells me to shut the fuck up. She’s sixty-two, but she’s young and spry, according to her, and I’m not too old for her to whoop me.
While I wait for her return, I pull out my phone and check for any missed calls. Nothing from Cameron, yet again. I hesitate for a second, then hit the button. Straight to voicemail.
