“You don’t have to.” Eric laughs at what he probably thinks is my overreaction. “You don’t have to run thirteen miles in August if you don’t want to. Most sane people would approve of that decision.”
I laugh back at his reaction. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I got overambitious with my research and thought, ‘Hey, maybe I’ll do a destination race.’”
“Now you’re talking! That sounds fun.”
“Yeah, but it’s not really practical right now,” I say, choosing my words carefully, my glum tone returning.
“That’s too bad. Work?” He tilts his head in a way that looks like he has a question, but isn’t sure whether to ask it.
Once again, his thoughtful gaze makes me want to open up. But since I haven’t been able to admit there is no work, I’m especially not ready to admit there’s no more fiancé either.
“No, it’s not work. It’s just that I don’t have anyone to go with. None of my friends are really runners.”
“What about going with a running group,” he offers helpfully. “I’ve had friends join a training group here that did a race in Napa. So you get your race in as well as a vacation.”
“That’s a great idea! Thanks for the tip. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” Though I do know why—because I was having a pity party for one over here.
“Maybe check out the Napa one,” he suggests. “My friends had a blast.”
Eric’s phone suddenly rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the number. “Oh, I gotta take this. Good luck!” He answers the phone, “Hey, what’s up?”
After he walks away, I turn back to my computer and type in “Napa Half Marathon.” There are some upcoming races in the fall and my wanderlust returns. Perhaps I can entice Jordan to go with me. Even if she won’t run with me, a girls’ weekend in wine country is pretty enticing on its own. I email Jordan with a link to the upcoming race in Napa and the subject line, Girls Weekend in Napa?
I’m well aware that I’m totally procrastinating on what I should be focused on, which is figuring out my career so I can actually pay for the travel. But with so much being out of my control, having an identifiable goal such as completing a race is motivating. Plus, getting back to being the old Allison feels good, whereas job hunting, not so much. Also, joining a group of strangers might be a good idea. Not to mention that my ex-wedding weekend is approaching. Being here in Chicago then might be too much for me—job or no job, I should probably get the hell outta Dodge.
My phone buzzes interrupting my thoughts.
“Hey,” I answer.
Before I can say anything else, Jordan says, “I’m down for the vino, but you’re insane if you think I’m going to run thirteen miles with you. I don’t care how beautiful the vines are that time of year.”
I laugh. “I figured as much. Though I’m impressed you know the mileage.”
“And why would you want to run one of those things? I thought those days were over.”
“That’s why I want to do it. I’m trying to get back to being Allison.”
“Ah, I see. In that case, the Allison I remember also liked spas. So, perhaps a spa weekend with vino? A massage is more my speed than running.”
“Understood. I could do a spa weekend. Although I probably shouldn’t spend the money, I could totally use a time out.”
“Yes!” I can almost hear Jordan clapping her hands. “And don’t worry about money. I was going to spend as much on your bachelorette, so this trip’s on me and don’t give me the ‘no, no, there’s no need’ line,” she admonishes before I can get a word in. “There’s a need. Besides, I already asked for your wedding weekend off.”
“You needed to ask for your weekend off?” I ask.
“Golden handcuffs,” she repeats her usual refrain, and I can hear her shuffling things around. “I’ll let you pick the place and you just let me know.”
“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver, and I owe you big-time. And, hey, where are you?”
She groans. “At work. I wasn’t getting anything done at home so I came in. I’m getting ready to leave though. I still need to run some errands today.”
“Yikes. Okay, in that case, I’ll let you go. I’ll research some spas and email you what I find.”
I grimace and make a mental note that whatever my new career path, hopefully it won’t include having to ask for my weekends off. Unless it turns out to be my dream job … whatever that is.
“One large almond milk latte for my favorite customer.” Eric appears and sets down a drink.
“Aw, thanks. But I didn’t order that.” I smile up at him.
He shrugs and grins. “It’s on the house. We like to take care of our VIPs.”
I laugh. “That’s good to hear since this is my favorite coffeehouse.”
Eric lingers over my table and gestures to my laptop screen that has a picturesque scene of a woman enjoying an outdoor massage with blue skies and hills in the background. “Post-race massage?”
“Race research has changed to spa research.”
“I see.” Eric cocks an eyebrow. “In that case, have you been to Ojai?”
I shake my head, and he continues, “It’s outside of Santa Barbara. It’s supposed to be amazing.”
I give him a bemused look. “And how do you know so much about spas?”
He laughs. “My sister just got back from there and was talking about it at my mom’s.”
“Ah! I see.”
So he has a sister. I wonder if she’s older or younger and if it’s only the two of them like my family. Eric strikes me as the responsible older brother type. It’s such an innocent question to ask, but since I’m keeping the door closed on my personal life, I don’t want to risk asking him anything about his. For now, small talk suits me just fine.
Once again, I realize that I might have been staring at him for a second too long as I contemplated this. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll look it up.”
“Anytime. Let me know what you find.” He looks toward the front door and at a customer making his way to the register. “Guess I better get back there.”
“Talk to you later.” I smile and watch him walk back to the counter.
Once he’s behind the register, he catches me looking back at him and grins. Yes, he’s definitely the older brother. What must it be like to be healthy, good-natured, and have your life together? All the things I thought I was. Eric seems like someone who has it all figured out, and maybe one day when I’m ready to share my own situation, I can ask him how he did it.
For now, though, I research spas. The Oaks at Ojai does look amazing, and I almost want to go just so I can tell Eric about it. Once I start researching places in California, I find another one near San Diego that also offers yoga and healthy activities, so that way Jordan and I can get in spa treatments and work off our evening wine, even if it’s wine we need to smuggle in. I email Jordan a list with a few different options and wait to hear from her.
When I’m over-caffeinated and can’t sit still in my chair any longer, I look around to say goodbye to Eric. Not seeing him, I stand up and sling my laptop bag over my shoulder all the while trying to peer through the round window on the door to the back.