“Gotta go, Sam.”
“Love you, Mikey. Be safe.”
I nodded and gulped, grateful for my good friend. “Love you, too.”
After shooting Tiller a quick text to tell him I’d arrived safely, I made my way into the house and crawled into Tiller’s bed. It was blessedly still unmade and smelled of him. Thank god they hadn’t sent in the housecleaners yet. I didn’t care that I hadn’t had lunch and it was only midafternoon. I was warm and a little numb, and all I wanted was to curl up into a ball and sleep with the faint scent of Tiller surrounding me.
The following day, I happened to visit Truman’s spice shop while he was starting a class on using spices as antioxidants. After taking copious notes into my phone, I joined him and his friend Chaya for dinner at a brick-oven pizza place around the corner from his shop. Chaya was a surprisingly tall woman—originally from New Jersey—with a thick mane of dark, curly hair. If Truman was petite and unassuming, Chaya was his complete opposite. She and I talked each other’s ears off, alternatively making Truman blush and laugh. It was a much-needed break to my internal tension, and I returned home to the lodge that night relieved to realize I hadn’t once thought about the Riggers’ game against the Steelers.
But I couldn’t go to sleep without finding out who’d won and making sure Coach hadn’t gone against our deal and put Tiller in. I quickly visited the ESPN site on my phone to discover they’d won and Tiller hadn’t played. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, thankful for both outcomes.
I’d successfully ignored the message notification on my text app all day, but now I clicked into it.
Tiller: Good morning beautiful. Have a wonderful day. If you see anyone we know, tell them hi from me.
Tiller: Just arrived at the stadium. It’s going to be a busy day, but I wanted to tell you I can’t stop thinking about you.
Tiller: Oh, one more thing. I want you to know I support you in whatever you want to do. Follow your dreams. If that includes moving to Aster Valley, we’ll find a way to work it out, okay?
My heart thudded in my chest. Besides Sam, no one in my life had ever been so supportive of me. It made me feel… strong. It was exactly what I’d needed and wanted to hear.
A new text came in.
Stacy Clifton: Can you meet me for breakfast tomorrow at the diner? Something’s come up.
My hands started to shake as I replied to the real estate agent. I knew she’d been helping the Civettis with some concerns about the property, and the reality of the real estate deal made me nervous. What if the Civettis didn’t want me after all? What if they did? Either way, it was time to move forward and see what the future held.
Me: Sounds good.
I responded to Tiller next.
Me: Congrats on the win! Spent the day with Truman learning more about spices than you’d ever want to know. Sprinkle some nutmeg in your oatmeal. Helps with tissue damage.
When I went to sleep, I felt calmer, more settled in my skin. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew it was going to be okay.
The next morning, when I sat down across from Stacy, my determination was tested.
“The Rockley property is no longer on the market,” she said, right off the bat. “I’m so sorry. When I called the Civettis to tell them about it, they were in the middle of flying back to Chicago for a family emergency. They wanted me to make their apologies to you as well.”
My heart fell. “I hope they’re okay?”
“Oh, yes. I believe one of their grandchildren broke a bone, and the Civettis were flying back to help look after him. I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”
Pim came by with the coffeepot, all smiles. “Hey, Mikey. Great to see you. Where’s your wingman?”
As he poured the coffee, I took a deep inhale and tried to recenter myself after Stacy’s surprising news. Thinking about Tiller helped. “He’s back on the roster for this week’s game,” I said. “So he’s on his way to Buffalo.”
Pim shivered. “Better him than me. At least in Aster Valley we get the sun with the cold. What would you two like to eat?”
After ordering, we took a few sips of our coffee in comfortable silence. I’d spent quite a bit of time thinking things through and was surprised to find myself almost relieved at the news the property had fallen through. Not because I didn’t want the Rockley Lodge. I did. It was still my dream property. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted to run my own business rather than run the Civettis’. Tiller was right. I could start small with my own catering business. The upside to that plan would be flexibility. I could plan my business around Tiller’s schedule so that we spent part of the year in Aster Valley and part of it in Houston. While I didn’t really want to ask him for financial help, I’d be willing to ask him to cover the costs of the travel between the two places. I knew he wouldn’t think anything of it. In fact, he’d insist on booking first-class tickets each way.
“You’re smiling,” Stacy said with her own smirk. “That’s unexpected.”
“I have an idea,” I said. “And I’d love to get your help with it.”
As I talked through my idea for trying to find a cozy cabin with the nicest kitchen possible in my price range, both of us got more and more excited. We talked for two hours, and by the time we paid our tab at the diner, we had a table full of scribbled pages from my notebook and tons of saved listings on her iPad to check out over the following days.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through town and ducking into more shops to get a feel for the people of Aster Valley. Before I made an investment here, I wanted to be extra sure it was the right place. I already knew in my heart I wanted to buy a place here, but my heart couldn’t be trusted. My heart was Vegas. Sometimes stupid shit happened in Vegas.
Everyone I met was amazing. I even ducked into the public library where an older man pointed me to the section on Aster Valley’s history. I fell more in love with the town and became more sure of my plan. I couldn’t wait to tell Tiller about it, but I wanted to wait until I had something concrete to share. Until then, I dodged his calls. Part of me knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling him about my dad, and I worried Tiller would be mad at me for keeping it from him, not to mention making a deal with him in the first place.
But when Thursday came along, I finally had something exciting to tell him. I’d found a little fixer-upper cabin that might work, but I wanted to get his opinion about the plan before making an offer. Tiller had given me every reason to think we were together, and if I was going to make this big of a decision, I wasn’t going to do it without him. Since he was probably already at the stadium in Buffalo, I shot him a quick text.
Me: Good luck today. Call me after the game. I want to ask your advice about something.
“Aww, his face just went all lovey-dovey,” Pim said to Bill. I’d been on my way to take Truman some dinner at the shop, when Pim and Bill had spotted me on the sidewalk and offered to walk with me.
Bill reached out and ruffled my hair. He was a quieter, sweet sort of man who’d surprised me with physical affection as soon as he’d gotten to know me a bit better. He was a hugger with a great big belly and strong arms. He smelled like fried onions mixed with coffee, and it was like getting a hug from the diner itself.