Fortuity (Transcend 3)

I’m not even sorry.

Unless you let Morgan read this. Please don’t let her read this.

I adjust myself because she’s got me hard already just from that one sentence.

Gabe had a great soccer season. He averaged two goals a game. I offered to put him in basketball, but he said it won’t be a lot of fun without a hoop outside. Guess who had a hoop installed in the driveway three days later? You guessed it. Mr. Hans is the best. I know I need to think ahead about finding a place of our own, but it makes me sad to think about leaving him. I feel like he’s grown to need us in an emotional way. Is that crazy?

We’re going to Montana to spend Christmas with my parents. I think you’re right about how hard these holidays will be on Gabe. It will help to have as much family around him as possible. Mr. Hans is going to his daughter’s for Thanksgiving, so it will just be me and Gabe. I plan on making the full dinner. Did I ever mention I have mad cooking skills? I think I did.

We might check with the hot single guy next door to see if he has plans. I bet he’ll appreciate my cooking. He doesn’t have the Scottish soldier look (only an elite few can pull that off), but he’s in his mid-thirties, drives a Tesla, wears tailored suits, and the talk in the neighborhood is that he likes older women.

What have you been up to?

I heard Morgan’s teacher was her nanny. There was also some mention of reincarnation of your childhood girlfriend. I feel like there’s a story there that could have been shared when I told you my deepest secrets???

I’m humbled and so honored that Kyle and Emily chose me to take care of their son. I love Gabe to the moon and back. This is where I need to be. It’s where I want to be. Yet, I can’t bring myself to just BE happy. It’s complicated.

I read a self-help book last week. It stressed the power of intention and thoughts. Words shape us in ways that affect us on a cellular level.

Thankfully, I’m not missing you. In fact, not missing you has consumed me. It’s almost as time-consuming as not loving you. Not thinking of you. Not feeling your lingering touch. Not finding it hard to breathe at the idea of never seeing you again.

I guess I hope you’re not missing me too.

Your not lovesick ex-neighbor,

Gracelyn

I lean back in my chair and run my fingers through my hair that’s longer again and as scruffy looking as my beard.

Hot single guy next door? I can’t even think about that right now. It makes me want to get on a plane, bang on her door, throw her over my shoulder, and steal her forever. I slide the photo of her out of my pocket. Yes, I carry her with me. I just … want her.

It’s not that I wouldn’t wait eight years or a lifetime for her. I would. I just don’t want to. My love for her makes me antsy and completely unsettled. How do I erase the distance between us so we can stop not missing each other?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Gracelyn

“Want to help?” I glance over my shoulder at Gabe as I mix the stuffing. The house smells of fresh thyme, parsley, onions, garlic, turkey, and apples and cinnamon.

He shrugs.

I smile. “I’ll take that as a yes. Wash your hands. I’m going to show you some kitchen skills that will turn you into a great husband someday.”

“My dad couldn’t cook.”

I chuckle. “I know. Grandma tried to teach him, but he was truly unteachable.”

“He could do other things,” Gabe says in a somber tone that matches his partial frown.

I wipe my hands on a towel and lean against the counter as he washes his hands. “Yeah. Your dad had a lot of talent. He was good at all sports. He was a good photographer. He could do anything on a computer. And he knew his way around a car. Grandpa had him changing tires and the oil on the cars at an early age. Not much older than you.”

With his focus aimed at the towel in his hands, he nods slowly. “I know. He said when I turned twelve he would show me how to do that … change a tire and the oil.” He shrugs. “Guess that’s not going to happen.”

I press my finger under his chin, and Nate doing the same thing to me flashes through my head.

Gentle.

Loving.

A simple gesture that says look at me. See me. I’ve got you.

“I’m here for you. If we need to watch some videos on YouTube someday and figure these things out together, we will. I’m not afraid to learn new things. You shouldn’t be either. Nor should you be afraid to have a moment.”