Page 143 of First-Time Caller
“Date night with Sheila,” Harvey supplies, toothpick back between his teeth. He gives me his best puppy-dog eyes. “Please don’t make me late for date night with Sheila.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. Sheila is a formidable powerhouse in the body of a five-foot woman who makes the best potato salad I’ve ever had in my life. The discomfort of seeing Aiden again pales in comparison to the abject horror of disappointing Sheila. I curl my hand around the keys and squeeze until the metal bites into my fist. I look at Dan. “And you? What’s your excuse?”
“Don’t have one,” he says. “I’m gonna follow you, kiddo. Make sure you have a ride home.”
I roll my lips together and shift on my feet. I look at the Bronco in the corner, then back to Dan. “You’ll be right behind me?”
His eyes soften. “Right behind you.”
Dan is full of it.
He is not right behind me. I doubt he even took two steps in the direction of his truck. I pull out of the service bay in Aiden’s car, and Dan’s Toyota is nowhere to be seen. I go five miles under the speed limit to give him the chance to catch up, but then a guy on a four-wheeler lays on his horn and I resign myself to my fate.
It’s fine. I’ll call a Lyft when I get there. I’ll hand Aiden his keys, smile like his silence hasn’t been the only thing on my mind all week, and be on my way. I can be a mature, reasonable adult.
But it’s hard to hold on to my fortitude when I’m sitting in the cab of his Bronco surrounded by him. It smells like him in here. Like being wrapped in his arms. I breathe in the wintergreen gum he keeps in the pocket of his sweatshirts and the fancy coffee he likes so much and breathe out the ache in my chest.
By the time I pull up to the gate in front of the parking lot, my stomach is in knots. I reach for the black security box with the glowing red light and then curse beneath my breath. I don’t have my access card. I left it on Maggie’s desk along with the rest of my courage, apparently.
I scan Aiden’s dash. He doesn’t have anything besides a half-crumpled pizza menu and an ancient-looking toll pass wedged in his cup holder. I don’t see his key card.
“Of course,” I mutter, leaning across the front seat and flipping open his glove compartment. Half the contents come tumbling out. A pair of earbuds and a folded-up piece of paper. The car user’s manual. A half-eaten pack of Andes mints. I try to shove everything back inside, but his messy handwriting on the worn paper catches my attention.
Feeling nosy, I reach for it and unfold it across my lap.
Chocolate mints
Daisies
Fountain soda
Coconut ChapStick
Christmas cookies, the shortbread kind
Yellow starbursts
Pink starbursts
The coffee creamer in the orange bottle
I read it once and then again. It’s a list of—it’s a list of my favorite things. Things I’ve mentioned on the show and things I haven’t. Things he must have noticed.
The gate to the parking lot swings open and I fumble to fold the paper back up, heart pounding while I shove it back in the glove compartment. I drive the rest of the way up the hill in a daze. I barely notice Maggie at the entrance, waiting for me with her arms crossed over her chest. I turn off the car as she strides toward me, her shiny heels eating up the pavement between us.
“Where have you been?” Maggie asks as soon as I slip from the driver’s side. She shuts the door for me and grabs my elbow, towing me across the parking lot.
“I’ve been at work?” I try to keep up with her quick pace as she guides us through the front door and across the lobby. “Dan asked me to drop off Aiden’s car. What is—what’s happening right now?”
I stare longingly at the front door as it slams shut behind us.
“Aiden isn’t here,” Maggie manages, heels clicking across the floor. “And it’s six oh eight.”
“Is he—” I hit my shoulder on the door to the hallway as she thrusts us through. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Something about a bird and the gutter on his roof—”
“What?”
