22
MIA
The next morning, after my run on the beach, I take my laptop into town so I can work for a few hours at Julie’s. I order my usual—an Americano with one pump of vanilla—and sit down while Julie gets it ready. I open my laptop and log in to my work email. Hazel must be in school today, because her usual spot is empty. The coffee shop has a whole different energy without her here, and I find myself missing her constant chatter.
“Here you go, honey!” Julie calls out to me. I go up to the counter and grab my drink. “Thanks, Julie! You’re the best.” The coffee shop’s not too busy, so she leans on the counter toward me.
“What have you been up to? When do you leave again?”
I fill her in on our recent adventures, leaving out the part about possibly staying in Hawaii permanently. No need to share that with people until I make up my mind.
“Sounds like you’ve been having a blast! I’ll let ya get to work over there. Let me know if you need anything else!” She retreats back to the cash register to help the customer who just walked in.
“Sounds good. Thanks, Julie!” I sit back down and pull up the article I need to edit today. This one is a review of a new restaurant that just opened in downtown Minneapolis. As I read through the piece, I think about everything I would miss about home if I moved here. As much as I dislike the cold winters, it’s not all bad. And you pretty much can’t beat Minnesota in the summer. The perfect weather, the 10,000 lakes, the cabins, the boating, the restaurants… I could go on and on. Not to mention how much I would miss my family and friends. I’d also have to go through the hassle of finding a new job—my boss has been great about letting me work remotely for a while, but I know she wouldn’t be okay with making that a permanent thing.
Is John worth it? Yes. He is.
But at the same time, how am I supposed to just change my entire life for someone who isn't giving me all of himself? Not that I feel like I need him to tell me everything he experienced in Iraq—I don’t need that at all. I would listen to anything he wanted to tell me about his time in the military, but I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to put that on me. I just hate the fact that he is struggling so much that he literally can’t bring himself to talk about it to anyone.
I know how important communication is in a relationship, so would we be doomed if we started off this way? Ugh, I don't know. I guess I have some more thinking to do.
I work at the coffee shop for a couple more hours, then walk over to the Farmers Market to pick up some food. I browse leisurely, taking my time, daydreaming about calling this place home. Does it feel right? Could I picture a life here? As much as I would miss home, living here happily wouldn’t be that far out of reach. Not just because it’s literally paradise. I wouldn’t move away from my family and Paige just for paradise. However, I would move away from them for the kind of love I can see having with John. On the Uber ride back to the cottage, I send him a text.
Mia: Will you go on a date with me tonight?
John: Of course. Where can I take you?
Mia: I’d love to go to that seafood place where you got the poke bowls from? Can we go there?
John: You betcha.
I let out a laugh.
Mia: Have you been brushing up on your Minnesotan lingo? I’m so proud.
John: Doing my best! Pick you up at 5?
Mia: Can’t wait!
When I get back to the cottage, I hop in the shower and take my time getting ready for our date. I choose a mustard yellow sundress that has a deep V-neck and hits a few inches above my knee. While I wait for the curling iron to warm up, I go into the closet and pull out some tan, strappy sandals and gold hoop earrings.
After curling my hair, I put my phone in my purse, grab the cottage keys, and head out the door. I am halfway to the house when John opens the sliding door and steps outside. He is looking extra handsome tonight, wearing khaki shorts and a navy blue polo shirt—Hawaii’s version of business casual. His brown eyes light up when he sees me, and then they give me a leisurely scan from my head down to my feet and back up again. When his eyes meet mine, it’s obvious he appreciates my efforts. The heat in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
“I was just coming to get you,” he says, pulling me to him in a hug. “I know,” I reply, wrapping my arms around him. “I was ready early so I figured I’d come to you.” He doesn’t let me go, just holds me tighter, burying his face in my hair, and eventually I laugh and try to wiggle away from him. “Come on, let’s go! I’m getting hungry!”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh, letting me go and settling for holding my hand. When we reach the car, he opens the passenger door for me. “What a gentleman… thank you.”
I slide into the seat and watch him walk around the front of the car to the driver’s side. He lowers himself into the seat, while simultaneously reaching for my hand, like it was a terrible inconvenience to have parted with it. I don’t mind one bit. I smile at him, and we drive into town.
We make it to the restaurant and head inside. The hostess leads us to a small booth in the far back corner of the restaurant. She hands us some menus as we slide into the booth, meeting in the middle, the sides of our bodies pressed firmly together. It is nice and cozy. Our waitress comes by and we put in our drink orders: wine for me, beer for John. When she leaves the table, I ask John his opinion of a few things on the menu.
Not wanting to stray from a good thing once I find it, I decide to stick with the Ahi tuna poke bowl. John decides on a build-your-own bowl with brown rice, marinated sesame salmon, edamame, scallions, and avocado in a samurai sauce. Our waitress arrives to bring us our drinks, we give her our food order, and she leaves to go ring it in.
I take a sip of my wine, and peer over at John. I am amazed at the difference between this John and the John that went out to dinner with me that first night at The Toasted Crab. He seems so much more at ease right now—less stiff, less anxious.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask him.
He turns his head so his attention is all on me. “Sure.”
“Is it easier for you to go to a restaurant now than it was before? I know you don’t like being in a crowded place, around a lot of people.”
“It is easier. I feel like I can actually take a deep breath right now, and I only feel a little tense, when it used to all be so overwhelming.” I feel a rush of pride that he’s willing to tell me that. I love it when he opens up and gives me a peek at what he’s feeling.
His mouth curves up into a slanted smile. “I owe that to you, you know. You’ve helped me more than you could imagine.” His words make me blush.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did.” He kisses my cheek, and a flood of warmth spreads through my body.
Gosh, I think I love this man.
That realization surprises me, but only partially. I think a part of me has been in love with him since the moment I laid eyes on him. Almost like my soul knew we were meant for each other before my mind did. It just took longer for the rest of me to figure it out. But yes, now that I think about it—I am absolutely head over heels, overwhelmingly in love with John.
Now, am I going to profess my newly realized love? Heck no. I’m going to sit back and wait for him to say it first… it’s safer that way. I don’t usually put my heart on the line first, and I definitely won’t this time. Not when some parts of John are still such a mystery to me. I think he loves me, too, but can I really be certain?
Our food arrives, and we enjoy our meal. I had talked to my mom this morning, so we chat about what they were up to back at home. “Would you ever go to Minnesota? I know you said you’ve never really been anywhere in the Midwest… but do you have any desire to?” I ask.
“Sure, I’d go. I’ve always wanted to try snowboarding.” He looks at me. “I’d go just about anywhere with you.” He smiles at me, taking another bite of food. Yup, I like that answer.
Not that I want John to move to Minnesota with me. I’m not sure if he’s in the right headspace to make a major move like that. But, I definitely like that he offered to go.
We finish our meal, and John pays the tab. “Do you want to go say hi to Matt? He’s working tonight, right?” I ask.
John nods in confirmation. “Sure, I’d be up for that. Let’s go.” It’s just a few blocks until we get to The Toasted Crab. We walk in and find two open seats at the bar. I hop onto one, while John sits on the stool to my right. Matt is busy pouring drinks on the other end of the bar, but he glances over and grins at us. “Heyyyy, what’s happening? You two look nice and cozy.” He directs his gaze to me. “Is John taking good care of you? Cause if you’re getting lonely over there in that cottage all by yourself, I’d happily volunteer myself—”
“All right, all right,” John huffs. “I’ll have a Gold Cliff. Mia?”
“Can I have one of those hibiscus mai tais again, please?” I’m more of a wine girl, but I figure I should take advantage of all the yummy tropical drinks here while I can.
“You got it.” Matt winks and backs away.
“Does he wink at all of his customers?” I ask John, who laughs out loud.
“Just the pretty ones,” he replies dryly.
I set my phone on the counter, and John does the same. Matt sets our drinks on coasters and leans over the bar. “What’s new? You been doing any more fishing?”
John shakes his head. “Nah, no more fishing.”
“I’d like to go again, though! See if I can get through a whole trip without puking,” I say, making John and Matt laugh. We chit-chat for a few minutes, then Matt backs away to tend to his customers.
John takes a sip of his beer, when I notice his phone light up. Text message from Adam Hanson, it says.
“Hey, you have a message from Adam.” I say casually, taking a sip of my mai tai. I immediately regret opening my mouth, because John visibly tenses. He grabs the phone and clears the message without opening it.
“Who’s Adam?”
“Mia… drop it.” He puts his phone in his pocket, then slides off the stool. “I need some air,” he says, already walking toward the door.
Um, okay…
I stare after him for a minute, my mouth open in confusion. “He all right?” Matt asks behind me. I turn to face him and shrug.
“I have no idea… he got a text message and just completely shut down and went outside.”
Matt looks towards the door, brows furrowed in worry. Then he gives me a sympathetic smile, his face softening. “He’s been through a lot, you know? He won't open up to me about anything, but I know he must have gone through hell. He came home a very different man than the one who left.”
“I know. Sometimes I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, you know?”
He gives me a reassuring smile. “I will say this… whatever you’ve been doing, it’s working. You’re good for him, Mia. I gotta get back to work, but let me know if you need anything.” I give him a weak smile and sip my drink.
After twenty minutes or so, I start to wonder if I should go look for John. I’m just about to hop off my stool when I feel his hand on my back. “I’m sorry,” he says, but gives me nothing more. We sip the rest of our drinks in silence, and not a word is spoken the whole way home.