Page 40 of Eligible Best Friend

“They are.” I point to my clothes. “I’ll spectate.”

“I’m so glad you could come today.”

The happiness in her eyes drags on the blanket of deception I’m hiding under. I’m lying to this wonderful woman. I was never nervous around Maggie the few times I met her before, but her delighted expression makes me want to run.

I default to the deflection-by-flattery tactics I used for talking with my mom’s donors. “Thanks for having me over. Whatever you’re making, it looks like it’ll be delicious.”

She glances at the fresh vegetables piled next to the box of pasta. “Don’t those tomatoes look too good to eat? I think they call them heirloom tomatoes, but they were too pretty not to buy.” She sighs wistfully. “It’s so nice to be able to splurge every now and then.”

I’m glad Maggie reached the buy farmers’ market tomatoes level of splurging, but that’s not a huge impulse purchase.

“I also bought the lettuce there, too. They were actually cheaper than the supermarket, and I bet each leaf has so much more flavor.”

My parents used to have the best produce delivered on grocery days. Our housekeeper would accept the delivery and put the load away. I heard her once when I was a teenager muttering about how much better the one percent eat.

I didn’t know at the time what the one percent was. Living on my own, making my own meager wage, I get that now. Just like I get Maggie’s thrill at being able to buy locally and pay a little more for quality.

The first month I lived on my own and enrolled in the EMT program, I blew a large chunk of savings. A new, if plainer wardrobe, sparse furniture, and the EMT course—it wasn’t cheap. I was coming off a job that paid well and I no longer had incoming money or someone to share expenses with. Of course, my fiancé both shared our living expenses and employed me, which made lining up my own career that much more important.

I’m finally building savings again. The thought of What next? has popped up more than once. I’ve never had an answer.

What next?

I love Mrs. Rosenthal, but she’s not going to be around forever. The next landlord is going to charge a higher rent. Without Mrs. Rosenthal, I’ll probably want to move rather than live right on top of another family.

I could move.

I blink at the realization. I could move now.

“Go on out.” Maggie waves me out of the kitchen. “Have fun. I’ve got supper taken care of.”

My feet move, but my mind stays on thoughts of leaving Fargo. I came here to start over. Now, I have a versatile career. I have work experience. I don’t have debt.

Where would I go?

I stop before the entrance and stare through the glass at the blue of the pool. The door slides open behind me and Ford’s voice is a welcome distraction. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod without looking back and go inside. The pool house is empty. Kicking off my sandals, I sit on the edge of the water by the entry stairs. My gaze lingers on the water as if some chlorine mermaid will rise and tell me my future.

Going back to San Francisco isn’t an option. I furrow my brow. It’s not because of Samuel.

I can picture his dark eyes, his perfectly combed hair with the manageable cowlick on the right side. The way he used to look at me, how he used to be so sweet, I’d forget everything. I’d forget that I hated the hustle and bustle of campaigning. I’d forget how much it sucked to think about what I looked like every single time I left the house. I’d forget that I wasn’t ready to settle down and have my life revolve around someone else.

I can remember his sweet words and his low, sexy voice and I don’t want it. I don’t want him.

Going back to California isn’t an option because of the cost, not because I’m afraid I’ll fall harder for Samuel than I did before.

I blow out a breath. Whoa.

My feet swing in the cool water. I’m free. For the first time since I left home, I’m free to do whatever the hell I want, wherever the hell I want.

The entrance door bangs open.

“How’s the water?” Ford’s in plain black trunks and his defined chest is hidden by a toddler in matching trunks and a white-and-black-striped swim shirt. Jayden squirms to get down as soon as they’re close to the steps, a rubber ducky clutched in his tiny hands. “Hold on, big guy.”

“The water’s great, but it looks like you’re going to earn every bit of your lifeguard training with that one.”

“Right?” He spins Jayden around in his arms and descends into the water. Jayden giggles and kicks his feet as soon as the water touches them. “Between coaching and lifeguarding, you’d think I trained for this dad gig my entire life.”

---