~Leslie~
Blake Young.
Dana had said she was praying, and Leslie wondered fleetingly just exactly what she had been praying for because this – showing up to her future and being struck in the face with her past – wasn’t in any of the plans or the expectations for the day. Not at all.
God wasn’t cruel. So logically, Leslie concluded, He’d allowed Blake to step into this moment for some greater purpose. Maybe so Leslie could be reminded of where she’d been and how hard she’d worked to get past her past and onto the future, which was waiting just as soon as she could make her offer and sign the papers on this place.
But why was Blake here? Here in her building? Here in town? Why was he back in town?
She hadn’t asked many questions back then, after the break up. Holly and Brooke would have known what happened to Blake and where he’d gone after they graduated, but Leslie had made it clear with very few words that she didn’t want to know anything, that she’d left high school behind, and that they weren’t to speak of it ever again. They hadn’t, not in all these years, apart from simply telling her that he was gone that one time that she’d been caught looking around for him at church on a visit home from college, pathetic wondering in her eyes. She’d said she didn’t want to know anymore, and though she wondered about him from time to time (because she was human, after all), she’d always been quick to vanquish all thoughts of him.
It didn’t help, remembering him and wondering where life had taken him.
It didn’t help now, being in the same room with him, feeling something akin to horror as all the memories from the past washed over her with alarming clarity as they continued to stare at each other.
To his credit, Blake seemed just as surprised to find her here. He appeared to be at a loss for words, apart from her name, which he said again.
“Leslie…”
The sound of his voice, her name, all the memories –
“What are you doing here?” she repeated.
He finally seemed to hear it that time, giving her an uncertain smile. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Marcie didn’t tell me that there would be anyone else in the building today.”
“Marcie?” Leslie asked. “Are you talking about my realtor?”
Her realtor. Her building. Because there was no other interest.
Except maybe there was. Maybe that’s why he was here.
She watched, the denials running through her mind, as he raised one eyebrow at her. “Your realtor? I thought she was my realtor.”
No. He didn’t need a realtor because there was no way on God’s green earth that he –
“Are you interested in buying this place?” she hissed, the very words ludicrous as they left her mouth. What in the world would he do with a building like this? Her mind went to who he’d been back in high school, how he’d worked waiting tables at some crappy diner, how he hadn’t known who he was going to be, where he was going to go, or what he was going to do with his life. In what world did he have a career or a plan that involved snatching her building out from underneath her?
He opened his mouth to hopefully dispel this ridiculous notion when Marcie suddenly appeared, walking from the area that Leslie planned to renovate alongside Travis, turning it into a state of the art kitchen.
Marcie, who had been so anxious about selling the building, going so far as to pressure Leslie to make a bid before she was ready, watching her like a cat with a mouse… traitor Marcie, who now looked between Blake and Leslie like she was in charge again.
Traitor!
“Hey there, Leslie! Right on time, I see!”
She had the audacity to clutch her hands together gleefully as though this whole spectacle was enjoyable. Maybe Leslie had jumped to conclusions, though. Maybe Blake was here for some other reason that had nothing to do with the building or the deal she was about to close.
“Yeah,” she said to Marcie, determining to ignore Blake as she got this all squared away. “I’m ready to make my bid and sign the papers. Get this baby in my name.”
You hear that, Blake?
“That’s great news,” Marcie said, making her way over to the old vintage soda shop style counter that Travis was already drawing out plans for remodeling, based on the ideas Leslie had shared with him. “It’s most definitely bid day, and I can’t tell you how excited I am with the recent developments on this whole process, you know?”
She gave Leslie another smile even as she pulled out papers from the file folder she’d laid on the counter.
“Recent developments?” Leslie asked, forcing her gaze to rest on Marcie and not swivel over to Blake. If she refused to acknowledge his presence here, maybe he’d disappear. Poof! Gone!
Or not, as she heard Blake step closer to the counter.
“I bid on the building this morning,” he said, answering a question Leslie hadn’t even asked.
She could feel her breath leave her lungs. It was worse than him being here in her space, making this day less than the perfect day that she’d envisioned. He’d put in a bid on her building.
“What?” she asked, still not looking at him, her eyes fixed firmly on Marcie, who smiled brightly. “You told me there was no other interest on the building!”
“Oh, there wasn’t,” Marcie said, a little excited giggle escaping from her lips as she said it. “It’s been sitting here forever, which you know all about, since you’ve been here more than once, never even suggesting a bid or honestly indicating any real interest to buy.”
Traitor. Leslie thought the word again as Marcie looked at her as if to challenge this.
Maybe she had figured things wrong. Maybe she should have come in ready to buy sooner. Maybe she’d let it drag on too long. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so slow to act.
“I’m interested in buying it!” she said, knowing that this was too late but still saying it with hope in her voice. “I want to bid on it today. Put earnest money down. I’m pre-approved for the loan, and I’ve got the contractor ready to go, I’m all in –”
“Then you’ll have to outbid Mr. Young here.” Marcie smiled over at Blake appreciatively, like he was some answer to a prayer she’d been praying all along.
Leslie took a deep breath.
Not today, Satan.
As though Blake had heard her address him personally, he reached out and touched her elbow, likely thinking that it would encourage her to turn to him so that he could reason through this all with her.
But his touch had the opposite effect. It felt as though she was being scalded, not by heat or discomfort but by memories that she couldn’t control, a past that she could hardly acknowledge and so many years of repressing it all in a vain attempt to forget.
Blake, smiling at her after Sunday school at the church, in a way he never had before. Blake, eating a cupcake at her house, right before he leaned over and kissed her for the first time. Blake, telling her that he loved her while he held her close, making her believe that he meant every blessed word.
She couldn’t forget. Because even as she looked at him, even as he backed away apologetically, she remembered every single moment with him.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed at him.
There was venom in her voice. And hurt, too, but she praised God that Blake didn’t seem to hear it as he backed away from her with a grimace.
“Okay,” he said, looking concerned as he looked back at Marcie, who was now watching them both with even more interest. Yes, all of this would be wonderful fodder for gossip around the water cooler at the realtor’s office later. Marcie wasn’t a hometown girl, but she’d put the two names out there later, likely, as she was recounting the crazy events of her latest showing, and someone somewhere who had never left this one-horse town would remember high school and would tell her about the days when Blake Young and Leslie Collins were a thing. Wouldn’t that be fun for everyone, hearing all about this?
Ugh.
Leslie reminded herself to act like an adult instead of a jilted teenager, even as Blake put his hands in his pockets.
“What?” she asked him shortly, clearly seeing that he was wanting to say something about all that had transpired so far.
“I just wanted to say that I wasn’t aware that someone else had an interest in the building,” he said to her. He glanced over at Marcie. “It would have been nice to know.”
Would he have refrained from bidding on it if he’d known? Leslie didn’t need him doing her any favors.
She said it out loud.
“I don’t need your charity,” she sniped, hating the childish tone in her voice even though she couldn’t keep herself from having it. How did he manage to bring out the worst in her?
She could see his features harden slightly. She’d seen that look on his face before.
She swallowed at the remembrance of the worst times in their relationship. Well, the worst time. Because it had been just that once, at the end, that Blake had looked at her as though he’d never loved her at all.
“Wasn’t about charity, Leslie,” he said. “I honestly didn’t know that you were considering buying this place.”
“And now there are two of you who want to buy it!” Marcie chirped eagerly. Justified eagerness because she was about to sell a building that she’d been saddled with for far too long, and she was probably going to get more than the asking price for it now that she’d set up the perfect scenario for a bidding war.
Bidding war. Maybe not, though. Maybe Blake would step away from this if Leslie asked nicely enough, if she could be sweet for just a second or two.
But she couldn’t even manage that.
“What do you even need this building for?” she asked. There was probably a better way to ask than this harsh utterance, but it was out before she could censor herself or even feel badly about how she’d said it. Then, she just made it worse. “I mean, what are you even doing with your life?”
Harsh. And unfair. But in a part of her heart she’d tried to forget and ignore all these years, she was still hurt from what he’d done.
Hurt people hurt people.
And now, he was going to hurt her.
“I know, right?” he asked sarcastically. “What could a loser like me do with a place like this?”
Before she could apologize (as if she could) or soften what she’d said, Blake turned to Marcie. “You know, I think I want to bring my bid up a little. Can I do that?”
How dare he. Not today, Satan!
“Well, you sure can,” Marcie began gleefully, finding the paperwork she’d started.
“Give me that,” Leslie said, reaching out for it and finding the number, recoiling inwardly as she noted it. Darn him! He’d started bidding at asking price! Who did that kind of thing?!
“I’ll give you a thousand more,” she said. She’d left herself some wiggle room in all of her budgeting and knew what she could handle. Sure, lower funds because of a higher price on the building meant that the kitchen remodel might not be nearly as fabulous, but there was no way she was letting Blake get this building –
“I’ll give you a thousand above that,” he countered to Marcie.
Gah!
“Not today, Satan!” Leslie spat out. Then, “Add another one thousand, Marcie!”
Marcie looked between the two bidders gleefully, expectantly waiting for Blake to counter. When he was silent for a second longer than expected, Leslie looked over at him. He was staring at her.
“Did you just… did you just call me Satan?” he asked, incredulous.
Had she said that out loud?
“Are you going to outbid me or not?” she said evenly.
“I should, since I’m the devil, apparently,” he murmured thoughtfully. Then, with a short breath, he turned his attention back to Marcie. “I’ll pay twenty thousand above my original bid.”
Leslie felt the breath leave her lungs, even as Marcie gasped out loud.
Twenty thousand dollars. Game. Over.
First Love was slipping out of her hands, and there was nothing she could do. There was no way she could offer more than she had. The bank had only agreed to a certain amount on the loan. She wondered briefly if she could enlist Travis to help with funding, but then dismissed the thought irritably. No, First Love was going to be hers, done all on her own. She thought about Travis and how she’d wanted so badly to help him back when they’d been kids and how far she’d come since then.
Not as far as she’d wanted to be, though, because the building…
“Any counter offer, Leslie?” Marcie asked, her face flushed and excited, likely gleefully adding up her commission in her head.
Blake was looking at her expectantly as well.
Why had he done this? She hated him in that moment.
“No,” Leslie said, her voice sharp and tight again. “I won’t be counter offering.”
“There are other buildings I’d be happy to show you,” Marcie said, already getting the paperwork redone for Blake and the greater offer he’d made. “None in the downtown sector, of course, but plenty of other great places on the edge of town, near the highway.”
But none like this.
“No, I think I’m done for the day,” she grumbled, turning to leave without further preamble. She could keep on making her cupcakes in the small kitchen in the house she’d just signed on to rent here in town. She couldn’t do anything on a grand scale like she’d hoped, but it couldn’t be helped right now.
She could hear Blake move to stop her, to say something, as she made her way to the door. But Marcie was already moving more papers, talking about the impending sale, and distracting him from following her.
Good. This was the last Leslie wanted to see of Blake Young for the rest of her life. She’d seen him far too much today as it was. She never wanted to see him again.
It wasn’t until she was back in her car, with her head on her steering wheel, swallowing back tears, that she realized something.
If Blake Young had just bought this building, he was in town for the long haul.
She would be seeing him again. Over and over and over again.