Page 62 of A Lifetime of Afters
Except he still hadn’t contacted me.
Six weeks of living in each other’s pockets, followed by nine days of radio silence.
My resolve to wait on him was fading. And the hope I held onto so tightly began to ooze through my fingers. I refused to think about it. Every time the thought popped up, I banished it to the far recesses of my mind.
Not having much to do at work made the minutes pass like hours. I paced the confines of my small office until I swear I wore a groove in the floorboards.
I crossed to the filing cabinet where the ‘ancient texts’ as Harley and I had dubbed them were housed. Binders and binders of notes, pictures, and resources from every event at Sage Ridge over the past ten years.
Over the past ten years.
The part of my brain invested in self-preservation urged me to move on. The rest of it, slave as it was to my rabid curiosity, would not let it go.
Dragging my finger along the spines, I continued my internal argument until I found the year I wanted.
My hands shook as I spread it open on my desk and began to leaf through the pages until I found what I was looking for.
Hawkley Bennett and Diane Mason.
My lip curled up in distaste.
Close it. Nothing good can come from this.
With one eye closed and the other squinting, I turned the pages of their file to ensure there were no pictures of the bride and groom tucked in with the samples and the notes and the illustrated design for the venue set-up.
No part of my brain wanted to see that.
With that settled, I leaned over my desk and took in every word. Every mention of the bride elicited a snarl. She was demanding and complained about the fabric of the napkins, the dishes, the cutlery, the size of the head table, and the platform for the band. They had a band? I didn’t even think Hawk danced.
I sat back in my seat and slammed the binder shut. I did not want to see the notes on how it all eventually went down.
Did they have a first dance? Of course, they did. Even their song choice was noted. Did he pick it? Did she? Was it their song?
It was a stupid song, anyway.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.I hit my forehead with the heel of my hand. I knew nothing good would come from looking in that file.
I stared out my office window. The edge of Sage Ridge, its silvery pines, just visible. I focused on that point until it blurred while my mind dragged me into the past.
“Hawk?” To my eternal embarrassment, my voice cracked. “Can I talk to you?”
He smiled easily, wiping his hands off on the towel he carried in his back pocket when he was on pool duty. “Sure. What do you need?”
I pointed to the deck chairs. The pool area was deserted. It always was at this time of night. “Can we sit?”
His face creased with concern. “Are you okay?”
“What? Yes!” I rushed to reassure him. “It’s just… important. And it can’t wait any longer.”
He waved me to go ahead of him. I sat back in a lounge chair and put my feet up. I needed all the physical support I could get. But in that position, I was practically lying down.
Feeling incredibly vulnerable, I shifted my legs, one on either side of the chair and sat forward. No. That wouldn’t do at all. Like an invitation. Which was great if he took me up on it, but maybe not the best if the conversation went south and he didn’t want to.
Go south, that is.
Ha.
I swung my right leg over to join my left which put my back to him. Also, less than ideal.
