Meghan didn’t answer her phone, so Aubrey satisfied her burning desire to start over with a cup of chamomile tea, hopeful that she’d done the right thing. She was already starting to feel the small edges of regret, those lingering emotions that derailed her so often.
Don’t fret, Aubrey. You’re making strides, literally.
She finished her tea and was just heading up the stairs to take a shower when the phone rang.
She didn’t recognize the number, so she let it go to the answering machine. A moment later, a man’s voice spilled into the kitchen.
“Hi, uh, Aubrey? This is Chase.”
She didn’t allow herself to think, instead about-faced and picked up the receiver.
“Hi.”
“Oh, you’re home.” He sounded much relieved, and she smiled. She’d forgotten what this kind of awkwardness was like. She’d only experienced it once before, when Josh suddenly realized he was in love with his best friend and became a shy, stammering, blushing fool for exactly one week before he finally got up his nerve to ask Aubrey out on a date. Their first official date.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and told Josh, firmly, to go away.
“You’re still there, right?” Chase asked.
“Yes, I am. Sorry. How are you? How was your trip home? I hope everything is good in Chicago. Is the weather nice?”
Aubrey, you sound like a schoolmarm.
“Chicago is rather lonely, actually.” His voiced dropped, became warm and conspiratorial. “It would have been much better if I’d stuck around.”
She felt an answering pull in her gut and realized that she was smiling. “I’m afraid I was a little drunk last night.”
“I know. It was charming.”
“Gracious of you. I hardly imagine that’s true, but there it is. Thank you for . . .”
For what? For getting her shit-faced and taking advantage of her? For helping her move on, something she’d never have had the courage to do on her own? For leaving her alone to grapple with her emotions?
It hit her, that’s exactly what he’d done. He hadn’t abandoned her this morning. He’d given her some space to come to terms with what happened.
Oh.
“Just . . . thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for taking my call. I don’t -normally— Well, none of this is normal for me. I’d really like to see you again, Aubrey. Last night, yesterday, today . . . I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her heart beat a rapid tattoo inside her chest, a sudden rush of adrenaline that signaled something abnormal, something unique, something different. It flooded her body, and she felt tingly all over. It was almost as if, with Chase’s words, the band of invisible metal around her heart had sprung loose, and she could suddenly see, hear, and feel again. She took a breath for courage.
“I’d like to see you again, too,” she whispered.
“I’m so happy to hear that.” She could practically see the edges of his brown eyes crinkling, like they had last night, when she memorized the movement. “I can come back to Nashville tomorrow. Catch the first flight out of O’Hare so we can spend Sunday together. Are you busy? Maybe we could go to the movies? If you like that sort of thing.”
“I do. I can’t remember the last time I went to one, though.”
“Then we need to rectify that. You pick. I’m game for anything.”
Josh had never been game for anything. He had distinct ideas of what he wanted to see. Action, thrillers, and war movies, mostly. He hated chick flicks, or romantic comedies, or anything that involved period costumes. She’d always gone along with his decisions because, honestly, she didn’t really care. She could watch her movies when he was at school, the long hours away she’d need to fill with something. But it was nice to have a choice.
Stop it, Aubrey. You can’t move forward if you measure each piece of the man against a ghost.
She glanced at the clock. It was nearly six. Twelve hours -suddenly seemed too long to wait. What was she going to do with herself?
“Do you want me to pick you up?” she asked. Oh, God, now he was going to think she was desperate.
He laughed instead. “It’s okay. I can get a car. I’ll come straight over, all right? We can make a day of it.”
“All right. See you tomorrow.” Unsure of what to do next, she hung up. The air in her kitchen seemed full and happy, pregnant with possibility. He wanted to see her again. He hadn’t just used her for sex and disappeared.
She mounted the stairs with a spring in her step. The shower felt good, all her earlier aches and grumbles gone. She had a date with a man she couldn’t stop thinking about.