Page 15
Wall art fills the corner of the room, flowers covering most of them in neutral tones.
One in particular sticks out. It’s a small cream colored canvas with a quote in navy blue cursive lettering. It looks too modern to belong with the rest of the designs.
Let all that you do, be done in love - 1 Corinthians 16:14
I like that.
“Well, this is unexpected.” The voice comes from behind me, deep and resonant, cutting through the air.
I turn slowly, my heart pounding.
Sean.
He’s standing just a couple of feet in front of me. His hair is darker than it was when we're teenagers—even darker than mine is now. It’s still blonde, only dirtier.
His eyes flare as they lock onto mine. I can’t tell if it's from the passion of what we used to feel toward one another—or if he’s upset that I’m here.
It’s been nine years since we were together last. Since we said goodbye in my car. The moment he told me he’d never give up on us.
Now that he’s standing in front of me, it feels like we never left. The past always has a way of lingering back.
His jaw is still as perfect as ever, while mine is slung open like an imbecile.
“Sean,” I muster out.
“It’s been almost ten years,” he says, as if I didn’t already know.
“Yeah, I know.” I pause and can’t help but smile. I wasn’t expecting him to be here, but it’s good to see him again.
His mouth twitches into a smile and I instantly relax my shoulders.
My heart skips a beat as he takes a step closer to me.
“What are you doing here?” he probes lightly, eyeing me up and down.
He has a blue t-shirt on with dark denim jeans. So basic, but it’s intensely attractive.
“I moved back home,” I say, stumbling over my words. I don’t know why he has this control over me.
His movements are careful, thought out. He places his hands in his front pockets, leaning over slightly. “No, I mean here. In the shop.”
His stare is so intense, it nearly crumbles me to my knees.
Just as I’m about to explain the gravitational pull that dragged me in here, a young couple walks through the front door. Both Sean and I look toward the ground at the same time, as if we got caught doing something we shouldn’t be.
He crosses his arms and bites the inside of his cheek. “I have to get back to work but—”
“You work here?” I cut him off, my eyes drifting around. He’s the one that stocks these shelves and pulls the open sign out. I never pictured him living in Lakewood again, let alone working at his mom’s shop.
“Yeah, my mom couldn’t do as many hours anymore, but she loves this place, so I keep it going for her.”
“Oh. I just figured you were visiting, I guess.”
He shrugs, looking slightly offended.
I just imagined he’d still be away and reenlist in the army or have opened his own business like he always wanted.
“Nope. I’m living here,” he says stiffly.
