Page 32 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
“I hope they do,” she says casually, clearly not understanding the magnitude of her efforts.
“Do you know them? Do they know who you are?”
“Oh my gosh, no. They don’t need to know,” she says and starts walking down the hallway again.
I’m stunned, shocked if I’m being honest. What an incredible act of kindness. Anonymous no less. Who is this enchanting woman I’ve stumbled upon? I’m in awe and enamored of her huge heart.
“How were you able to even make something like this happen?”
“Oh, I have connections,” she says with a devious smile as she winks at me.
We continue our drive and she gives me some history about the places we pass. She pulls into the parking lot at Trails and we grab a quick bite to eat in the busy café.
“I wasn’t sure how many days you wanted me to show you around so I put together four days’ worth of itineraries for us,” she says, carrying her tray of food and weaving us through the café to a two-person table near the back. Sitting down, she puts her tray on the wooden table. “Once I know you’re okay with what I’m thinking, I can print it out for you so you have names and addresses of places in case you want to visit them again.”
“Wow. You’re taking your tour guide job very seriously.”
“Yeah, I don’t do anything halfway.”
“Great. So, what do you have so far?”
“Well, today is the Griffith Observatory and a hike to the Hollywood sign to take your picture. One of the days, I’d like to take you to Santa Monica Pier. We can ride bikes from my house to get there. It’s like a big carnival on a pier. Then another day, we can go to Malibu. We can hit the beach, stop at a winery, and then go to Malibu Farm for dinner. It’s all fresh, local, organic food and pretty much everything they have is delicious. And the last day I planned is a day trip to San Diego. We can go to the zoo and grab some lunch. Then we can come back here and go to the Street Food Cinema which is an outdoor movie theater. It’s something different to do. What do you think?”
I’m impressed by how much thought she’s put into our time together and showing me different places. “It all sounds amazing.”
“I tried to put some variety in there. Is there anything that doesn’t sound like something you want to do? Because I can change things around,” she says, taking a bite of her apple and bacon spinach salad.
“No. I like the sound of everything.”
“Okay. I’ll print it up when we get back to my house. Do you have any preference of days to do each trip?”
I want to spend more time with her than just four days, but I’m willing to start with that.
“Let’s go to Santa Monica Pier on Tuesday and Malibu on Thursday.”
“Okay, then that leaves San Diego for next week. It’s about a two-hour drive from here. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes, that’s fine. We can figure out what day later this week.”
“Okay. How’s your sandwich?”
“Mmm, so good.”
“Right? Great food for such an unassuming little spot.”
I curl my fingers into my pursed lips then splay them out and away, making a kissing sound. “Delizioso.”
She laughs her tiny, adorable laugh.
We finish our lunch and she drives us to the observatory.
“I need a cigarette before we go in. Do you mind?”
“Yes, I do. I’ll wait for you by the entrance,” she says, pointing up the hill. “I don’t want to smell like smoke.”
I can see by her toned body and how she eats that she lives a healthy lifestyle.
“Of course. I understand.” My shoulders weigh me down. Fuck, do I understand. I don’t want to smell like smoke either. I’ve tried quitting, several times, but the addiction is strong. I started sneaking cigarettes not long after these fucking things took my dad’s life. Not even a teenager, I lied to myself that it was my way of coping and I could stop whenever I wanted. Nineteen years later, they’re shackles, imprisoning me, killing me faster each day. My twisted connection to my dad, holding onto him any way I can.
