on.
But the inside had been shattered.
Still life went on, and Steph somehow picked up some of the pieces of his life and patched them back together without knowing it. He gazed upward at the bright blue sky—the color of her eyes—and sensed today would be special.
The drive to Steph’s reminded him of too many treks to Martin’s. He’d become his gofer, and though he wanted to be helpful, one day it had to stop.
Nick turned left, and in moments pulled into Steph’s driveway and slipped from the SUV. Fred’s nose pressed against the window welcoming him.
He strode to the doorway and rang the bell. Fred’s excitement sounded through the glass but otherwise silence.
He waited.
Eyeing his watch, he calculated he’d made good time. He’d been only forty minutes late. Curious, he wandered to the backyard. No one but Fred’s tail whacking the sliding patio door. Served him right. How many people had he kept waiting?
When he reversed his steps, Steph met him in front of the house, holding a picnic hamper. “Sorry. I spilled salad dressing on my clothes and had to change.”
He grasped the basket, hoping she’d accepted his apology. “I was the late one.” He carried the food to the car while she ran inside and came out with two lawn chairs. “I thought we might like these.”
Nick nodded and tossed them inside, and they were on their way. He felt tension when he pulled onto Rochester Road, and it didn’t subside until he’d crossed Square Lake Boulevard. Steph talked about her day care and her worries about her coworker Emily. He talked about his work. Neither said a word about themselves.
When he turned off University Drive to Seventh Street, he saw the entrance to Rochester Municipal Park. The fountain spilled water into the pond as they passed, and they wended their way to the picnic area. Though they hadn’t been the only ones to choose this setting for a holiday celebration, Nick found a space and parked. He pointed out an empty picnic table close to a family reunion or some special occasion where balloons rimmed the area. “Okay?”
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