Page 46 of All That Lies Between Us

ADDISON

It’s three in the morning when I make it to the Denver airport. Luckily, the place is about as dead as I feel, so it doesn’t take me long to get my rental car and hit the road. I was able to catch a few hours of sleep on the flight, but I’m still bone tired.

It seems like no matter how much sleep I get lately, it’s never quite enough, and my doctor made it very clear that I need to watch my caffeine intake.

Pregnancy is already a bitch, and I’m only a third of the way in.

I pull into Gamble Springs right as the sun begins peeking over the mountains, its orange glow enveloping the morning in warmth. The town is small, the welcome sign putting it at almost two thousand people. It’s wrapped up in gorgeous mountains on either side, like someone cut out the middle of a mountain range and deposited the town in its place.

I take my time driving around, first down Main Street, which looks like its straight out of a Hallmark movie. All of the buildings are made of red stone, with matching green awnings and old school vibes. There’s a hardware store next to a hair salon next to a small grocery store, a combination that makes absolutely no sense to me.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the residential areas, where most of the homes are pushed together so tightly that I wonder where one yard ends and the other begins. I can’t help but think about Chase as I pass each one, wondering where his head is currently resting and if he’s alone.

After ten minutes of aimless driving, I use GPS to find a local hotel—well, the only hotel—which actually ends up being a dumpy, rundown motel on the outskirts of town. Considering it’s just now seven in the morning, I’m prepared to beg and plead to get a room early, but the receptionist happily allows me to check in early at no extra charge.

My room is on the first floor, and the parking lot is empty enough that I’m able to park right in front. The green metal door has seen better days, with many of its five layers of paint chipping beneath the others, but the inside is clean and cozy.

Old red curtains cover the only window, and a simple dark green quilt tops the bed. The room isn’t very large, but there’s a shower, a bed, and a coffeepot stocked with decaf, so it’ll do the trick.

The first thing I do after dropping my bag on the small round table by the window is head over to brew some coffee. In the process, I catch my reflection in the mirror above the long dresser.

My face is pale, my hair a nasty, tangled mess, and heavy bags circle my eyes. I look like crap, plain and simple. There’s no way I can hunt Chase down looking like this.

I sigh, pulling my hair out of its ponytail before starting the coffeepot. Knowing I have a few minutes for it to finish, I lie down on the bed, immediately surprised by how comfortable it is.

For what I paid for this room, I was expecting to be able to count the springs in bruises along my body, but instead, it feels like a fluffy cloud, wrapping me up and easing my tired muscles. I allow a big yawn, closing my eyes and enjoying the comfort of the pillows around me. Five minutes of rest won’t hurt. I turn my mind off and shut the world out, the coffee machine drip lulling me to sleep.

When I finally wake up six hours later, I look a little better. The dark bags under my eyes have lightened slightly, and there’s more pink in my cheeks than before. I still won’t be winning any beauty pageants, but at least I look a little more human. As I leave the hotel, my stomach grumbles. Besides a handful of pretzels on the flight, I can’t even remember the last time I ate, so I drive back in the direction of a coffee shop I saw on Main Street.

I pull up to The Blue Rooster around two, and I’m surprised to find that the place is booming. There’s no drive-thru, so I have to park a few buildings down, but my nerves don’t mind another excuse for putting off my meeting with Chase a bit longer.

The inside of the café is covered in roosters. There’s rooster décor on the walls, roosters on the wallpaper, even roosters on the to-go coffee cups piled up by the registers. The place has a homey feel, and everyone who’s passing through seems to know everyone else. It feels oddly isolating.

I take my place in line while my eyes look over the extensive menu—sandwiches, coffees, smoothies, baked goods. Continuously, my eyes are drawn to the muffins and cakes in the glass case in front of me, and I practically drool at the sight of the blueberry donuts. Luckily, with two registers open, the line moves quickly.

“What can I get for you?” greets a chirpy barista.

“Can I have a large lemonade and a turkey on wheat?” My eyes roam over the trays of muffins and donuts in front of me. “Oh, and a blueberry cake donut, please.”

“Of course! Your total is $10.16. Would you like it for here or to go?”

Before I can respond, a squeaky voice pipes up at the neighboring register. “Hey, Dana, I actually just sold the last blueberry.” I turn to see a young teenage girl in a blue polo and black apron looking over at me apologetically.

“Oh, that’s okay,” I rush to say, trying not to let the disappointment show on my face. “Just give me the cinnamon instead.”

She smiles appreciatively, probably glad I didn’t cause a scene, and then gets back to work. After paying and receiving my lemonade, I walk over to a table to wait for my order to be called.

I notice a heart carved into the wood, the names Janet and Peter inside. I trace my finger over the heart, wondering who they are, how they met, and if they’re still together. Will Chase and I have a love story to tell our child someday, or will our time together not extend beyond our past?

I wonder how he’ll react when he sees me. The romantic in me has it all planned out. He’ll turn and see me out of the corner of his eye, at first thinking that he must have conjured me up because I’ve been running through his mind on repeat since the day he left. Once he realizes it’s really me, he’ll run over to me, wrap me up in his arms, and we’ll ride off into the sunset together.

The realistic in me understands that things might not go as smoothly as I’d like, and he might turn me away on first glance. While I continue to mull it over, a young, slight woman walks up to me, a bright smile plastered on her face. At first, I think she’s handing me my order, since she’s holding out a brown paper bag with the Blue Rooster logo on the side. I stand to take it from her.

“Hi,” she says tentatively. “This is going to sound totally crazy, but please hear me out. I saw you tried to order the blueberry donut and, well, I had already ordered it. But honestly, I was actually wanting a cinnamon and just went with the blueberry because it was the healthier option. And then when I saw you chose a cinnamon, it felt like fate had stepped in and said, ‘You made the wrong choice, Emily. You deserve that cinnamon donut, and that pretty woman over there deserves her blueberry donut.’ So, would you like to switch?”

I laugh at the look of anticipation on the woman’s face. “A stronger girl might second-guess your offer, but I’m pregnant and weak, and I can’t stop thinking about that blueberry donut. I’m still waiting on my order, though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait with you, if that’s okay.”

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