No one has questioned it since, which is why our local singles aren’t the only ones zipping around town like love-thirsty beavers today. People come from all around Georgia to win big in the treasure hunt of love.
This year is my year. I know the universe wants to give me that gift—I can feel it in my love-hungry bones. I’m ready to give my heart away in a way I’ve never been before. Even with Steve, back when he was a better human and marrying him seemed like a fun idea, if not my romantic dream, I always held back a part of myself. I just wasn’t ready to open up to another person that way, not even the man I loved.
But now I know what it’s like to truly be alone—alone in a foreign country, alone in a city where everyone seems cooler and more put together than I am, and alone in my bed every night with no one to snuggle when I’m sad, let alone anything more. That loneliness has taught me many things, including that I can stand on my own two feet, even when it’s hard. But it’s also taught me that holding the people you love at arm’s length is stupid.
I’ve promised myself that if I’m ever lucky enough to find that perfect-for-me man, I won’t hold back. I’ll dive into the love ocean and swim hard, no matter how rough the waves might get.
But right now, my sister’s pet raccoon is sabotaging my efforts and making my unexpected escort veer off the path and into the woods. “Brake, Colin!” I call as I switch course to circle back to rescue him. “Brake! George can handle himself!”
Colin’s bumping and swerving on the bike as he hits every exposed tree root and fallen branch in his way, heading toward the lake just beyond the trees, making me wonder where he learned to ride a bike.
Wait a second. Have I ever seen him on a bike?
I don’t think I have.
And now George is chittering and climbing onto Colin’s head as he tries to steer them both to safety, I’m off-roading on my bike that was not built for this terrain, and honestly, I’m out of practice with biking too.
“Colin, brake!” I yell one last time.
But it’s too late. He hits a massive rock, and the bike slides sharply to the right. George goes flying off into the woods as Colin crashes and burns in a fairly spectacular fashion.
Pulse racing, I ditch my bike and run the rest of the way to his side. “Colin!”
“What in the bloody hell is wrong with that ridiculous animal?”
I drop to my knees beside him as he sits up, swiping at the fallen live oak leaves coating his clothing and crumbled in his hair. He’s adorably mussed and dirty. It reminds me of the first time Beatrice and I came home from playing in the park, not long after I started as her nanny, both of us covered in sweat and dirt.
He’d looked the two of us over, sighed heavily, and walked away shaking his head, as if getting messy in the out of doors was akin to getting caught picking your nose in church.
Unlike the last time Beatrice and I came home from the park, when we’d been chased by geese and accidentally fallen into the Serpentine, getting soaked to the skin.
I’d known Colin had an important after-hours call in his study that day, and I’d told Beatrice we needed to be quiet as we came inside. But he must have seen us sloshing our way up the sidewalk outside from his office because he met us at the door with towels, announced he was putting on the kettle to fix us a cuppa to warm us up, and hadn’t said a word about his call being interrupted or the mess we left in the foyer.
If anything, he just seemed happy that we were safe and on our way to being dry and that Beatrice had a new adventure to add to her ever-growing list. He even praised her bravery and dubbed her Beatrice, the Brave, slayer of geese and defender of innocent American nannies.
My love for him grew even more that day.
That a man as rigid and exacting as Colin could learn to live with the extra messes that I brought into his life in the name of his little girl’s happiness proved he wasn’t cold or heartless.
When we first met, he was a young widower constantly handling one more thing and struggling in ways that he tried and often failed to hide, but now—
Now, he’s so much more.
To me, at least.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, smoothing his hair from his forehead. I frown as I see how pale he is. “You don’t look good.”
“I’m fine,” he says, the muscle in his jaw going tight.