Page 6 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
Now here we are, and I’m a nervous wreck.
“What about you?” I ask, pulling myself back to the present. “Are you from Colorado originally?”
“Iowa, actually.” Adam takes a sip of his beer, which has just arrived. “Small town called Mount Pella. I moved here for college.”
“Why here?”
He shrugs. “Just needed a change. Plus, I like mountains.”
“You said you work in construction?”
“Yeah. I enjoy working with my hands.” He flexes his fingers around his beer bottle, and I try not to stare. “I’m also starting to make furniture on the side. Nothing fancy yet, but I’m learning.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, genuinely impressed. “I love that you’re pursuing something you’re passionate about.”
“What about you? What do you want out of life?”
“I’m still figuring things out.” I trace circles with my finger on the table. “I’ve mostly worked in different food service jobs. I practically grew up working in my grandmother’s restaurant.”
“Your grandmother owns a restaurant?”
“She did.” A familiar twinge of sadness hits me. “She passed away when I was eighteen. My uncle Peter runs it now. It’s called Louise’s Table. We lived in a little town near Portland.”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” Adam says, his voice softening.
“Thank you.” I take another sip of water. “She was amazing. She taught me everything I know about cooking. Some of my favorite memories took place in her kitchen.”
Our pizzas arrive. Adam puts a piece of each pizza on a plate and pushes it towards me.
“So why aren’t you working in a kitchen now?” Adam asks after filling his own plate.
“I don’t have any formal training, so it makes getting jobs harder. At least jobs in good restaurants. I thought about culinary school, but…” I trail off, unsure how to put my feelings into words.
“But?” he prompts.
“But I left home and kept moving from place to place soon after Grandma died. I told myself it was just for a year, and then I’d go back, but that year turned into two and then three, and now here we are at seven. With every year that passes, I keep thinking that this is the year I’ll go home, get serious about life. But I’m still here.” I finish with a shrug.
“Well, I’m glad you’re still here,” Adam says, taking a bite of his pizza. “Otherwise we might never have met.”
I’m sure my face is beet red as I pick at my pizza. “What about you? Did you always know you wanted to work in construction?”
“Not at all. I got a business degree because that’s what my parents expected. I didn’t realize how much I’d enjoy building things until I got a summer job with a crew that did home renovations.” He takes another slice. “Sometimes the path isn’t straight.”
“Tell me about it.” I finally relax enough to take a proper bite of pizza. “I’m sure my life path looks like a five-year-old scribbled it.”
Adam laughs, and the sound makes my chest warm. “I like that. It’s more interesting than a straight line.”
We fall into an easier conversation after that, discovering we both love the outdoors. He tells me about his favorite trails in the area, and I share stories about camping with my cousin along the Oregon coast.
By the time we finish our meal, I’ve relaxed enough to stop overthinking every word out of my mouth. Adam is easy to talkto, laughing at my jokes and sharing his own stories. He insists on paying the bill despite my protests.
“You can get the next one,” he says, and my heart does a little flip at the promise of a next time.
As we stand to leave, I adjust my purse on my shoulder, accidentally hitting my empty beer bottle. Adam catches it before it can topple over.
“See?” I say. “Walking disaster.”
“Quick reflexes,” he counters with a wink.
