Page 3 of A Simple Regret

“Sounds good,” he replies. “Have a good one.”

“You too. Kiss my Junie for me.”

He chuckles. “Will do. Bye.”

I’m about to slip my phone back into my pocket but stop, pulling up one of my frequent numbers. “Mario’s, how may I help you?”

“Hey, Taylor, it’s Cam Miller.”

“Hi, Cam,” the polite young employee says. “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” I reply. I order at least one, usually two nights a week, and all the employees know my order.

“Pick up or delivery?”

“Delivery, please.”

“Okay, looks like it’s going to be about forty-five minutes,” she replies.

“No problem.”

“Card on file?” she asks, referring to my credit card that’s saved in the system for my regular purchases.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, I got it taken care of. See you in about forty-five minutes,” she replies.

“Tell the driver to come to the garage, please,” I state, even though most of Mario’s drivers know this. If I don’t answer the front door of the house, they know to go to the garage.

I slip my phone back into my pocket, happy to have dinner taken care of for the evening and make my way out to my garage. My eyes automatically scan next door, trying to catch a first real glimpse of the people I’ll be living next to for a while. I’ve had a wide array of neighbors over the last couple of years, mostly younger couples. Several of whom fought all the damn time.

When I reach the side entrance to the garage, I get a view of the back of the trailer. What catches my attention is the small kid’s bike, along with what looks like a toddler bed. It’s smaller than a twin frame and looks like a race car. That makes me stop in my tracks. Through the revolving door of tenants at that house, I don’t recall any kids.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I don’t have anything against kids. Not in the least. In fact, I love them. My niece is a prime example, and I can’t wait for my brothers to do the same, making me an uncle a dozen times over.

Do I see that for myself in the future?

Nope.

Not anymore. The whole wife, kids, picket fence bullshit. It’s a mirage, a farce. It looks like it’s there, way off in the distance, as beautiful and as obtainable as catching a firefly, but it’s not.

It’s not real.

No, that’s not true.

It’s real. My siblings seem to have found it, and I’m incredibly happy for them. I thought I had it once myself, but that turned out to be untrue.

So instead of searching for the illusive happily ever after, I’m content just living my life. I date, I have a good time, but I tend to walk on the casual side. I’m not looking for forever. Not now. Maybe not ever. Why? Because it hurts too fucking bad when it all goes south, leaving you alone and picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.

Ignoring the pull in my gut at the sight of that toddler bed, I step inside my garage and flip on the lights. I struck gold when I found this rental. Quinn and I had been sharing an apartment, but we both needed space. He was really getting his business going as a welder, and I craved my own spot to work on vehicles.

I’m a mechanic. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. Well, except that time in second grade when I was gonna be an astronaut. That was short-lived, however, when I realized how much schooling and flight time you’d need to even apply for the NASA program. Turns out, it’s not as simple as just “wanting” to go to the moon.

So, I set my sights on something I had already developed a passion for.

Fixing things.