I navigate my way through the garage, careful not to run into any of the stacks of boxes Cal lined up for the moving company.
I get distracted by his presence and trip. He catches my elbow before I fall face-first into a row of boxes.
“Will you stop following me around everywhere?” I rip my hand out of his grasp.
“Not until you agree to not staying here tonight.”
“Fine!” I throw my hands in the air. “I didn’t plan on sleeping here anyway.”
His brows pull together. “So, you’re staying at the guesthouse?”
“No.”I struggle to reach for the luggage on the top shelf despite balancing on the tips of my toes.
Cal reaches around my body and grabs the suitcase off the shelf for me. The brush of his chest against my back has me suppressing a shiver, a fact that doesn’t seem to go unnoticed based on the way he trails a single digit down my spine.
“Where are you going to go then?” His question has a certain edge to it.
Oh, that’s it.
I turn on my heels, and our chests brush. “I don’t know, but there is no way in hell I’m sharing the guesthouse with you.”
“Why not?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Because it’s a terrible idea!”
“Afraid you can’t control yourself around me?” His signature smile comes back at full force, turning my whole world upside down.
My scoff lacks its usual bravado. “I can control myself.”
“Is that so?” The pad of his thumb follows the curve of my bottom lip, sending a zip of energy down my spine. My head pathetically tilts closer to him.
Emphasis on pathetic.
I shove him away, although the push is weak at best. My fingers itch to dig themselves into his shirt and pull him back, solely so I can feel the rush his touch provides.
That right there is why you can’t live with him.
I slip out of his cage and charge away, dragging the suitcases behind me to the soundtrack of Cal’s laugh.
I spend the rest of the day packing up the necessities for Cami and myself, which is an exhausting endeavor in itself. I’m not looking forward to packing everything else away before the asbestos abatement team comes.
I don’t have a lot of keepsakes. The most important thing I own happens to be a shoebox crammed full of memories. I climb the ladder in my closet and search for the box. It’s kept out of reach, hidden behind an old Santa gift I forgot to put under the tree a couple of years ago.
I brush a shaky hand across the dusty shoebox top before removing it. My hand trembles as I sift through the countless photos, tickets, a few of Cal’s hospital bands from all the times he got injured because of me, Cami’s favorite pacifier, and other memorabilia from my entire life. It’s bittersweet how twenty-nine years of memories can fit in a single shoebox. There was once a time I dreamed of more for myself than this town. I love Lake Wisteria—I really do—but it was never meant to be the adventure.
It was supposed to be the final destination.
Now you will finally have a chance to make your dreams come true.
With the money I’m bound to get from the selling the house, there isn’t anything stopping me anymore from traveling around the world and opening my own bakery here.
Well, nothing except for myself. Self-doubt always rears its ugly head at the worst times, making me wonder if I really have what it takes to be successful.
You’ll never know if you don’t try.
“Mommy!” Cami runs into the closet.
My grip on the shoebox slips and falls against the floor, bottom side up.