Page 28 of Never Too Late

“Strange how?” His question came quick, not giving me a chance to think about what I was saying.

“There were just all those strange feelings that rushed all at once when I got close to it, but the one that was most prominent was loneliness and the fact I didn’t now belong to anyone, and had no one who belonged to me was the one that crushed me.”

“You don’t have anyone?” the small voice asked. I looked down and saw the tears dancing in Zara’s eyes.

“My grandmother died recently,” I said just as softly.

She looked up at Dylan then back to me. “But...”

I didn’t want her to feel sad or any concern for me, so I leaned down and whispered, “Don’t worry, honey. I have friends. And I have Mrs. McConnell.” I couldn’t help it. I knew it wasn’t my place, but I still did it. I leaned deeper and kissed her forehead. “And now I have you as my friend,” I finished, still whispering.

As I stood back up, she threw me a dazzling smile that was missing one tooth.

I looked around and hurriedly looked at Dylan. It was getting weird and I really wanted to go home. Tucking the long blonde strands of hair that kept getting into my face, behind my ear, I threw him one last cautious look. “I’ll see you around.”

Just as I was starting to pass by him, his big palm closed around mine. Stopping me in my tracks, I looked up into his beautiful face. “You’re not alone, Sophie,” he rumbled and squeezed my hand. “Don’t pick up any tree. All that are left are shit. I’ll call you and pick you up tomorrow and we’ll go and get one in the mountain.”

I would love to say I hadn’t checked my phone every few minutes anticipating Dylan’s call.

But I did.

I also convinced myself I was being stupid, and he has changed his mind and decided not to call or take me tree searching, upon which he would cut that tree for me and I would get to take it home.

I also gave my best trying not to imagine decorating the said tree with him and his daughter while Christmas music played in the background, Mrs. McConnell sat in an armchair bossing us around, the smell of cookies baking filling the house, and all in all a Hallmark scene played in my grandmother’s house.

I failed.

I did all that.

That was why when the phone on my desk rang, I screamed a little, scaring an already frightened mother of four who was also sleep deprived half to death.

“Sorry,” I muttered while picking up the phone and sliding the green icon on the screen. “Hello?”

“Soph, Dylan.” His deep voice caressed my eardrums.

I shivered in response.

“Hi.” To my utter despair I breathed dreamily.

“Listen, we’re not going to be able to go get a tree today. Something came up.” If he noticed my breathy voice, he didn’t give any indication he did, he went on like it was all business. “So we’re moving it to tomorrow.”

“Oh.” The sharp stab of disappointment clutched my chest. “Okay. Is everything alright?” I tucked my hair behind my ear, a nervous tic I developed in med school and one I couldn’t get rid of, no matter if I left my hair down or had it in a ponytail.

“Yeah.” He was distracted and not giving any kind of explanation.

“Okay,” I repeated and wanted to slap myself. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow, bye.” He disconnected.

Looking up and forming an apology for the disruption I was met with a knowing smile from the exhausted mom. “I see you’re in the middle of a fun road.”

“I’m sorry?” There was nothing fun about this frail relationship or friendship, or whatever that was between Dylan and me.

“Don’t worry, girl.” She waved her hand. “I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but when you finally get that man who was on the other end of that call, you’ll look fondly on this time.” She gave an explanation that was not an explanation and looked to her four young children sitting on the examination table in my office.

Her face was soft, it was also content.

It was a sight to see.