I chuckle. “I’m content.”
“Not dating anyone?” she asks.
Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Maeve and her son. Right behind her are her parents. She turns and says something to her mother, but then she looks at Logan, and her expression changes from what I’d say was happy to pure and utter joy.
“Who are you looking at?” Jared asks.
I shake my head but can’t take my eyes off Maeve. “Do you know Maeve Jenkins?” I ask Jared. His head goes back and forth.
“Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
Slowly, I raise my hand and extend my finger to point across the road. “We went to high school with her. She graduated the same year we did.”
Jared stares for a long moment. “Nope, her face doesn’t look familiar. She’s hot, though.” Jared makes a sound after Imani whacks him. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He leans down and kisses his wife. I turn away, not wanting to see their somewhat private moment. This gives me more time to stare across the street at Maeve. She’s watching the parade, pointing to floats, and leans down often to talk to her son. I almost had that—a child—until Tessa took it away from me.
I end up staying with Jared and his family until the parade is over. When I was little, I loved this thing. By the time I hit puberty, girls were far more important, and we used this time to go make out on the carnival rides or at the ballpark. Now that I’m an adult, I see the allure. The Town of Plymouth does an excellent job putting this festival together, and I’m happy my bank is now one of the major sponsors.
When the parade is over, and I’ve said goodbye to Jared with the promise of stopping by to see his mom, I finally hobble my way back to my car. I’m surprised to run into Mrs. Jenkins on my way.
“How are you feeling?” she asks. “Maeve mentioned you should be on crutches.”
She talks about me! On the inside, I’m a giddy schoolboy because the pretty girl is worried about me. On the outside, I’m calm and stoic. “I was just heading to my car and about to go home. I would’ve had them earlier, but I ran into an old friend.”
“Well, Maeve said you should be off your feet. That you need to rest.”
“Yes, she mentioned this earlier.”
“You know what, you should come over for dinner tonight. I know Tom has been trying to get into the bank to see you about his retirement, and you and Maeve can catch up without everyone vying for your attention.”
Dinner at the Jenkins? Sign me up!
“That would save me a trip to the grocery store. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to push a cart and use those crutches Maeve gave me.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Jenkins touches my forearm, squeezing it a bit. “Come over about half-past five.”
“Can I bring anything?”
She shakes her head and waves me off. “Just your bubbly personality. Maeve will be happy to see you.” With that, Mrs. Jenkins walks off and leaves me in the parking lot with a million and one thoughts running through my mind. Maeve wants to see me and has been talking to her mom about me. That means she’s interested. If I know anything about women and dating, once they start talking to their moms about someone, it means they want to get to know the other person. This stupid injury was worth it if I get to spend time with Maeve, and even though Mrs. Jenkins said not to bring anything, I think I’ll bring a bottle of wine. Maeve and I can share it later.
On the way back to my house, I start to wonder about Maeve’s living arrangements. With her not using my bank, it’s been very hard for me to snoop into her life, so I can’t tell where she’s living and am going on the assumption that she lives with her parents. It does make sense—her living there. She’s recently divorced, and from what I hear, Maeve's husband is entirely out of the picture. This leads me to believe she’s living with her folks.
Teenage bedroom.
Within seconds my mind is in the gutter as I picture a pink frilly bedspread, white bed frame, pom poms . . . nope, scratch that. The room I’m thinking about is Tessa’s because that is the only teenage girl’s room I have ever seen. I shudder and clear my thoughts. She’s the last person I want to think about.
As soon as I get home, I feed my cat and then let him out while I jump into the shower. Undoubtedly when it’s time for Tom to come back in, he’ll have a bird or some other creature hanging from his mouth as he greets me at the door. Tom, a big orange cat, adopted me when he was about eight weeks or so. He showed up on my doorstep and wouldn’t leave. I made the mistake of feeding him, and that made him my best friend for life. I don’t mind, though, because he’s gotten me through some dark times and did so without passing judgment. He always knows when I need space or when I need him to lay next to me and purr.