Page 63 of The Affair
But as much as I wanted to play nursemaid to Sawyer, that pesky, rational side of my brain won out. The store had been closed, on a Saturday no less, while I recovered. Since we were always closed on Sundays, we’d now been dark a full weekend. If I had any hope of catching any tourists headed out of town, today was the day.
I was also terrified of the distinct possibility that he was, in fact, just avoiding me. I had this nightmarish vision in my head of me showing up at his door with a thermos of soup, only to find him outside, doing yard work, or happily enjoying a day off.
Or worse, with someone else.
I wasn’t sure I could handle that rejection.
So, for now, avoidance was still front and center in my life when it came to Sawyer. Avoidance and keeping myself busy.
Unfortunately, the store was doing a terrible job at the latter, and as of ten o’clock in the morning, I had found myself completely out of things to do. I’d cleaned, caught up on receipts, rearranged just about everything I could, and now, I sat at the front counter, rattling my thumbs against the solid wood top, wondering what to do next.
Taking a quick scan toward the windows, I searched for any sign of customers. Letting out a long sigh, I reached under the cabinet for my nana’s journal—the flowery leather one.
The one I’d been sneaking peeks at every second I could.
It was like I was back in high school again, sneaking one of my mom’s tattered, old romance novels into my backpack so I could read the naughty parts on the bus.
Only this time, it wasn’t fiction I was reading. It was real life. And that real life had belonged to my grandmother.
William is such an easy man to talk to. He listens without interruption. Without judgment or blame. I find myself sitting with him longer than I should, letting my cup of coffee or tea grow cold as my mouth runs long.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed to talk to someone about George. It takes a toll, watching him fade away. Seeing our life vanish from his eyes.
Knowing my name means nothing to him.
Talking about him with William helps. Hearing about their stories and tales of growing up together, it lessens the pain and the sting I feel from every visit.
He misses George too.
And I guess that’s something we have in common.
Reading this new journal had become somewhat therapeutic. Her writing spoke to my soul like an old friend, and I couldn’t help but compare my life to hers. She had fallen for a man she shouldn’t have.
Was I doing the same?
The bell chimed, signaling a customer, and I quickly put the journal away, grateful for the distraction from my own thoughts.
“Hey there!” Candace greeted me brightly with her megawatt smile, carrying a giant plastic tote.
“Hey there yourself,” I greeted back. “What brings you to my neck of the woods this Monday morning?” When I looked at the tote, my brow lifted. “That can’t be the stuff I ordered, can it?”
“I told you I’d have them done in about two weeks.” She beamed.
“Yes, you did. But I didn’t actually think you’d do it.”
“Well then, I guess I just proved you wrong.”
Not wasting any time, she set the box down on the floor in front of the counter and began pulling things out. She’d gone all out on her designs, just like I’d requested. There were fall colors to hold us through Thanksgiving and a ton of Christmas-themed items as well.
“These are spectacular,” I said, holding up a knitted koozie that had the face of Santa Claus on the front. “Seriously, I can’t wait to put these out.”
“Well, why wait?”
“Because Halloween isn’t until the end of the week. It’s way too soon.”
She just looked at me, blank-faced. “Clearly, you’re joking, right? Don’t you know that October is the new December?”
Now, it was my turn to stare at her, blank-faced. “What?”
