As she neared Books And More, she looked up at the three red deck chairs on Libby’s balcony. She missed her.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took it out, thinking how funny it would be if it were Libby. Stopping to stand near the beautifully decorated window of the bookstore, she opened her phone.
The bright smiles of her daughters lit up her screen. Her ex-mother-in-law had sent pictures of just the girls, the girls with their two grandparents, both and each individually with Eric, and the last picture had the girls, Eric, and Jenna standing with Cinderella’s castle in the background.
A family. Eric, Jenna, and the girls looked like a family. She was happy for her daughters, but she missed them so much and felt so alone that it hurt physically. The tears she had held back began streaming freely, though she reproached herself for them. She didn’t miss Eric, far from it. She didn’t even miss the family that they had once been. She missed the family she and her daughters were.
Hope inhaled deeply, struggling to stop those unwanted tears. Her daughters were happy and that was all that mattered.
She wiped her palms over the salty paths that had reached her chin. Finding a single tissue in her jeans pocket, she dabbed at her eyes and nose, knowing her makeup was ruined, anyway. Walking toward the nearest bin to throw the soaked tissue, she fumbled inside the pretty paper bag that held her daughters’ presents, remembering that one of the booths had used wrapping tissues. These would do at her state. Then, walking back from the bin that was near the curb and blearily looking inside the bag, she bumped right into a hard mass.
Two large palms gripped her arms and stopped her from stumbling back.
“Hope!” a voice called just as she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?” he asked just when she recognized him and said, “Jordan!”
“You first,” he said, still gripping her biceps. A soft smile spread on his face, which was a few inches from hers.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to …” She faltered, breaking their brief eye contact, aware that her face was wet and tear-stained.
“What happened?”
She sent her hands to wipe her eyes and face again, and he released her arms.
“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. I’m okay.”
“You just apologized three times in a row, and you’ve been crying. That’s not okay in my book.”
She chuckled despite herself, wiping her nose in a quick motion. She really needed a tissue. “No, I’m fine. I swear.” His eyes … Even through the mist in hers, she could clearly see the warm bourbon in his, and the expression on his face tangled her heart.
“Do you want to come up and wash your face? I have the key. Your key. I was just up, leaving the Wayford house lease and a few documents for Luke. I forgot about the fair and was waiting upstairs until I could move the car.”
“No, that’s fine. I should go home. It’s a ten-fifteen-minute walk.”
“I know. I’ll drive you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Are Naomi and Hannah here, too?” He looked around.
This crashed reality back down on her and brought fresh tears to her eyes, which he found the moment he shifted his gaze back in her direction.
“No,” she croaked. “They’re with Eric.”
“Is that why you’re crying?”
She couldn’t speak just then. She just nodded and pressed her forefingers to the corners of her eyes, trying to absorb the tears that shouldn’t even be there before they could fall.
“Hope,” he said, placing his hands on her biceps again and lowering his head so he could catch her gaze. “Let me drive you. Please.”
“Okay,” she relented. Damn him and damn her fickleness.
“Come on. My car’s here.”
She felt his hand on the small of her back as he guided her toward the car. It was warm, and strong, and comforting.
They climbed inside, and her tears dried again. When he didn’t notice, she drew her sleeve quickly across her nose, feeling like the last and least student in her class. How embarrassing.