Forever Right Now

My hand rose to knock but I mentally reiterated how I’d sworn off men for an entire year. No need to torture myself in the meanwhile.

Or you could be mature about it and be helpful. Grown-ups do that.

I knocked softly on the door. No answer.

“Welp, can’t say I didn’t try.”

I turned on my heel and hurried down the rest of the stairs.

Outside, the twilight was golden and perfect, and the air felt warmer than I expected. Before I’d left New York, Becks had told me there was a famous saying about my new city—that the coldest winter ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. But it was the middle of June and no hint of the chill wind I’d been warned about. I added the warm night to my mental tally of all the things that were good about being here. It was a small thing, but if I thought for longer than a second about Becks or Zelda, or my family, the loneliness would seep in. And if it got too bad, I was apt to do something stupid.

I’m done with that shit, I told myself. I’m brand new.

I concentrated on the city as I walked. My neighborhood of Victorians quickly gave way to commercial towers and shops along Market Street, which I’d deduced was a major vein in the network of the city. Whole Foods appealed to my will to eat healthy, but Safeway appealed to my scrawny bank account. But as I perused the aisles with a basket on my arm, I decided I was better off finding a bodega. Supermarkets, like everything else in SF, were expensive as hell.

I rounded an aisle and crashed basket-first into my new neighbor, Sawyer.

“It’s you,” I said softly before I could regain control of my brain that had become momentarily paralyzed at the sight of him.

He’d changed from his suit to jeans, a hooded sweatshirt over a green T-shirt, and a baseball cap. He was pushing Olivia in a stroller, and the carry-space underneath was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables.

Up close, he was even more ridiculously handsome but tired. So, so tired.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey.”

“I don’t think we were properly introduced.” I stuck out my hand. “Darlene Montgomery. Your new upstairs neighbor who will not be—how did you say it? Prancing and jumping at all hours of the night?”

“Leaping and thumping,” he said, not smiling. He gave my hand a brief shake. “Sawyer Haas.”

For a moment, I became lost in the deep brown of his eyes and my words tangled on my tongue. I sought refuge with the toddler between us and knelt in front of the stroller.

“And this is Olivia? Hi, cutie.”

The little dark-haired girl watched me with wide, blue eyes, then arched her back and pushed at her tray with a squawk.

“She doesn’t like being cooped up for too long,” Sawyer said. “I try to get through this quick. On that note…” he added pointedly.

I stood up quickly. “Oh, sure, of course. See you back at the house.”

His brows came together and he frowned.

“That sounded weird, right?” I said with a short laugh. “We’re virtual strangers but also practically roommates. Isn’t it funny how two things can be so opposite and yet completely true at the same time?”

“Yeah. Weird,” he said tonelessly. “I have to go. Nice meeting you. Again.”

He pushed off, wheeling Olivia away, the sounds of her frustration trailing after. I heaved a sigh and watched him go.

“Nice talking to you.”

No, that’s good. Let him go. You’re working on you.

I

perused a few aisles, filling my cart with cottage cheese, lettuce, ravioli and pasta sauce. I was reaching for a packet of coffee filters which happened to share space with the baby food when I heard a child’s fussing growing louder one aisle over. Olivia was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. Below her screeching came Sawyer’s low admonitions asking her gently to hold on, they were almost done.

I bit my lip and scanned the colorful rows of brightly-colored baby food packaging. With a woot of triumph, I found a box of zwieback toast biscuits, and hurried around the corner.

“Hi, again,” I said. “I think maybe she could use a food diversion.”