Page 33 of Unsteady: How to Fail at Flirting
“I have tried, but I’m a little lost,” she tells the group as she sits perched on the armrest of the overstuffed velvet sofa. All the furniture in here is mismatched and thrifted personally bySkylar. I offered to help her pick out all new pieces, but she was adamant that the place have a lived-in vibe. Her instincts were right, of course. It’s a vibe, and people love it. “Everything I’ve looked at seems sus.”
“Riley, can you ask Rowdy? He can probably get us whatever we need by tomorrow,” someone asks.
Riley Hutchinson grimaces. “Rowdy would get us the moon if I asked,” she says about her husband. “But I can’t promise he won’t violate any laws in the process.”
This gets a laugh from the group. I wait patiently as they talk, checking on the time of our reservation for the tenth time today. I don’t know why I’m so wound up about it. I’m feeling unusually overprotective lately as Skylar seems to wear herself out more and more with the demands of running the store. Something has to change, and I feel it in my blood, even if I can’t verbalize it.
Skylar just can’t pull herself away from the store sometimes. She’s a people person, and we’ve been very fortunate that people have gravitated to the store in a big way. Book clubs, knitting groups, and writing groups are a regular weeknight feature, prompting Skylar to extend store hours to 10 p.m. As a result, more downtown businesses have started keeping their doors open late.
When the public library reached out because their tutoring spaces were getting crowded, I built a tutoring nook. We added a small private party room that doubles as a space for anonymous support groups for addiction, for families struggling with loved ones’ addictions, and for LGBTQ+ groups needing to connect. The store is a haven not just for readers, writers and music collectors, it’s turned into a much-needed gathering space for people of all walks of life. Skylar turns no one away who comes in off the street in need of a restroom whether theyare customers or not. That alone has kept me busy maintaining, expanding and upgrading the plumbing.
There was a time when I thought my age and experience made me an asset to her life, but being in Skylar’s orbit these past two years has educated me. Changed me. The past two years, I became so much more than a former Navy man who sold a successful construction business and retired to a permanent vacation in a small town. I’m more than the maintenance man who’s good with a drill. I’ve met people I never would have met if it weren’t for Skylar. I would take a bullet for most of the people who walk through that door. And sometimes, I’m a literal security guard. Songbird Ridge is a pretty safe little town for all types, but times are strange. The wrong people sometimes feel emboldened to act like dickheads, and if I can prevent that, then I’m happy to hold the title of watch dog.
When Skylar finally clocks my antsy demeanor, she extracts herself from the witchy group.
“Ready to go?” I ask, looking forward to some old fashioned surf and turf at The Magpie.
Skylar leans in for a kiss. “I just have to check on something real quick, and then I’ll go upstairs and throw on some makeup.”
When she says “check on something real quick,” I know what that means.
While I’m trying to herd her upstairs to finish getting ready, she stops to chat with one of her employees, Shay, who had previously said she needed to talk to her one on one about something.
“What was it you needed, Shay?”
This turns into a conversation in Skylar’s office, which ends up including me as well. Through Shay, we learned that the Department of Family Services has asked if we wouldbe interested in partnering with their kinship care program. This turns into a whole discussion about setting up a special collection of free books available to kids in foster care. More staff is pulled in to discuss ideas and plans.
I go ahead and cancel our dinner reservation. Goodbye surf and turf.
Thirty minutes later, Skylar finally heads toward the back stairs that lead to our flat. “I’ll be five minutes.”
When we’re behind closed doors, I take both of our phones and turn them on silent, then put them in the basket in the entry way.
“How much time do we have?” Skylar asks, rushing to the bathroom.
“All the time in the world,” I say.
She peeks out of the bathroom and frowns. “Oh no. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? And on our anniversary! I’m so sorry!”
Without a word, I close in and tower over her where she stands in the bathroom doorway.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“Stop apologizing,” I say, cupping her sweet face that I’ve kissed a million times, and I plan to kiss every day for the rest of my life, as many times as I can. “It’s not a good look on you.”
She smiles and bats her pretty lashes.
“That’s better,” I say, angling in and pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is a soft, warm respite from the busyness of our lives. When we can shut out the world for these moments, I don’t care if it’s at a fancy restaurant or just for a night enjoying each other at home.
Anywhere with her is both an adventure and a vacation. I’m her safe harbor and she is mine.
“What are we going to eat now? I know you were looking forward to some steak and seafood,” Skylar asks.
I move past her, into the bathroom, and turn on overhead rain showerhead.
“Shower first, then we can order in,” I say. “Besides, you’ve had a long day.”
“I like the way you think, Captain. I am so tired right now, but I didn’t want to admit it and ruin your night.”
