But was it because of him? Did I think Colorado Chuck was my Mr. Right? He did check so many of the boxes: he was handsome and kind, he loved the mountains, or at least the stars in the mountains and he thought I was a good worker.
Or maybe he just wanted to get laid, I suddenly thought, surprising myself.
Maybe I was reading too much into his words and his behavior and he wasn’t interested in me beyond a quick hook-up. The job he’d offered me was contract-based, it wasn’t a permanent position, and this meant it had to be renewed after a few months. I knew that many of the contract workers left after the season, some staying only for the winter or the summer, coming and going as they wanted to. It was the kind of job that attracted young, adventurous types. Girls like me.
I thought carefully about my response, telling him that I would come as soon as I could but that I had accepted a temporary position and needed to work until the end of the month. I would be able to start at the beginning of next month.
I found it very hard to fall asleep that night.
My thoughts were filled with Zane, withColorado Chuck and Will. Lots and lots of Will going through my mind. My feelings for him were complex.
I liked Will, I really liked him.
I used to think he was grumpy and a bit rude, but that was before I’d gotten to know him. Staying with him and Zoë, I’d seen that he was a very loving father and a more than decent employer, offering to give me time off and not looking at the clock if I was five minutes late, which I often was.
He was also a great kisser.
I came back to the kiss, as I had often during the day.
I’d been kissed quite a few times in my life, but not quite like that. It felt like the start of something, not the end. It certainly did not feel like a mistake, which is how I’d been forcing myself to think of it.
Chapter 10
Will
The doctor said Zoë would only be able to go home after the operation if she’d had something to eat first. He recommended ice cream as it was cool and easy to swallow. No problem, I said, I was on it. I left work early and checked in with Nikki, who was at the hospital.
Has she woken up yet?
She is starting to now. Very groggy came Nikki’s response.
I had been there in the morning when we dropped her off at the hospital. Zoë was being a total trooper even though she became very quiet as we got into the ward, and she was told to put on the gown.
The pediatrician came by and smiled at Zoë, explaining once again how the operation would be over before she knew it. Then he spoke to me and said that while the operation was routine, occasionally complications did arise. He told me what to look out for and told me about ice cream.
“She can have any kind?”
He smiled. “Any kind she likes. She’s more likely to eat if she likes the flavor though, right?”
Zoë loved ice cream and I went to her favorite shop down the road, getting all kinds of flavors in take away tubs. Vanilla, hazelnut, raspberry, choc chip, cookies and cream and s’mores flavor. Then I suddenly thought that maybe she’d prefer gelato as she’d once had that and really liked it. I drove to the other side of the city, stood in a queue that seemed to take ages to move, just to get strawberry and mango, passion fruit and other fruity samples. Once I had everything in the car, it occurred to me that I should maybe add some frozen yogurt. I remembered when she’d been sick with a sore throat a year ago, there was a particular vanilla frozen yogurt that was all she could eat.
Once I got to that shop, the queue again was impossibly long. I went to the front of the line and addressed the people waiting: “Please, I’ve got a sick child in hospital, I just want to get her some frozen yogurt. Do you mind if I quickly cut in the line?”
Their faces were stone cold, hard as New York City brick.
“My mom’s got cancer, you hear me trying to get in front?” one woman said, crossing her arms and glaring at me.
Another snapped at me, “I’m a single mom and we don’t have money for food but I’m buying each of my kids frozen yogurt for dinner. Do I get any special treatment? What do you think?!” The woman walked out of the line to yell at me and I had to step back.
The animosity from the queue seemed to grow. I heard people call out “arsehole”, “bastard” and someone even said, “probably doesn’t even have a kid.” Others responded by nodding and agreeing with him. At this point, I thought it better to leave altogether.
As I walked towards my car, I heard someone call out to me. I turned and saw an older woman walk towards me.
“Here,” she said. “It’s strawberry, I’m sure your daughter will like it. All little girls like strawberry, don’t they?”
“But… it’s yours?”
“I don’t need it. I felt like some, but I’d much rather your daughter had it,” she said. “I’m a grandmother, you see, my grandkids are scattered all over the globe, I never get to give them any frozen yogurt. I’m guessing their moms wouldn’t like the sugar, or the dairy or who-knows-what,” she snorted. “You have it.”