TWENTY-THREE
Living and working in the city, Mellie had sold her car, as she and Greg had agreed it made more sense to have only one car that they paid outrageous parking fees for. She hadn’t gotten around to finding a new one, especially since she’d rarely driven his car, always afraid she’d hit something. Instead she relied on public transportation and the various apps on her phone to book a ride or catch a taxi when she needed one.
She and Connor had spent the day wandering around the harbor. She’d taken him to the main drag, all the upscale shops and the section of boardwalk with all the touristy stuff, where they’d gotten the famous french fries. The look of bliss on his face had been worth it. She’d always loved them, but hadn’t eaten them since she’d dated Greg.
He was a health fanatic, regularly biking fifty to seventy miles a week, never letting processed food or junk or sugar pass his lips. And while she tried, in truth she was a hedonist—something he’d told her several times when he caught her eating dessert or something else he deemed unworthy.
Mellie wasn’t overweight—she needed to lose ten or fifteen pounds at the most—and was fine with the way she looked. She couldn’t understand all those women who constantly worried about their weight. She was average and was happy being average. It seemed an awful lot of work to stay skinny nowadays. Why not enjoy life, eat the ice cream when she wanted? Who would look back on life and say, “I should have skipped dessert”?
Though she would never drink an entire bottle of wine or eat a whole chocolate cake again as long as she lived. She cast her eyes heavenward, sending up a promise.
As time passed, Mellie stalked Greg on social media less and less. She really liked Connor, but he made her feel so much…whereas Greg was Greg. She needed someone like him, not Connor.
As they left the pricey tourist area of the harbor, Mellie took Connor into a shop Greg had always turned his nose up at, but she thought they had great clothing.
The guy who owned it was British, a distinguished older gentleman, and something about Connor’s demeanor and tone instantly perked him up. He must’ve thought Connor was visiting from across the pond and was someone important, for he immediately catered to Connor, and before she knew it, she was sitting in a chair, watching with amusement as Connor tried on clothes and the men discussed the proper fit.
She’d seen them conferring, and the man had told them to come back and pick up the jeans and pants at the end of the day.
He’d had those goofy leather sheaths sewn into the jeans and pants so he could carry his daggers around at all times. The owner of the shop was having some type of harness made so Connor could wear his sword on his back. He said it was for his workshops, and she rolled her eyes. Boys and their toys.
The owner, probably thinking it was some eccentricity of the rich, didn’t say anything—he simply smiled at her and shrugged. Connor paid as she looked at all the money he had in his pouch. No matter how she tried to get him to carry a wallet, he refused, preferring the purse at his waist.
“At least let me give you the boots.” Connor stroked the leather. “I do not really need them.”
“You do. It will be cold in a few months, and if your passport still hasn’t arrived, you’ll be happy when the wind blows across the water.”
He said his memory still hadn’t returned, and refused to see a doctor. A niggling worry told her he was keeping vital information from her, but she ignored the warning.
She handed the boots to the Englishman. “We’ll take these. And he’ll need the sheaths for his blades in these, too.”
“Right, madam.” The man rang them up, and she paid, happy to do something nice for Connor. While Mellie constantly worried about having enough money to live on, when it came down to it and someone needed something, she was generous, knowing that what she did would be repaid in karmic goodness at some point.
At least, she hoped it would—after Greg, she wasn’t so sure she hadn’t done something to seriously piss off karma.
Later that day, they picked up the purchases and spent the evening watching Game of Thrones, which Connor couldn’t get enough of.
The next day, she asked him if he wanted to go out on the paddleboats. When he looked at her curiously, she explained what they were, and his eyes lit up. They rented a paddleboat and spent the afternoon in the harbor. Then they took one of the water taxis across the harbor to the older part, where there were cobblestone streets and an assortment of quirky restaurants and shops that she knew he would enjoy.
She got him one of her favorite street vendor foods, a hot dog wrapped in bacon, smothered in chili and cheese, with pickles on top. She grinned as he sighed in bliss. It was something she hadn’t eaten since she dated Greg.
“You have… On your mouth.” Connor pointed.
Mellie wiped, and the napkin came away clean.
“Let me, lass.” With his thumb, he touched the corner of her mouth and showed her a bit of chili she’d missed.
Energy crackled between them, and sounds faded until it was just the two of them. Then a group of kids on skateboards whizzed past, breaking the moment.
Heat bloomed across her face. Mellie stepped back.
“Thank you…for that.”
He winked at her. “Aye. Anything for ye, lass.”
They walked on, wandering in and out of shops, looking around, and Connor gawked at the people in the shops, jumping when a car went by too fast.
He looked so longingly at one of the touristy horse and buggies that she surprised him, and they took a ride as he talked to the man, examining the horse. The man, recognizing a fellow enthusiast, let Connor take his time, answering all his questions. While they talked horses, Mellie was content to people-watch. Was his town in Scotland so different from Silvercreek?
As they walked, she decided it was still light enough they could go see the fort. She knew Connor would enjoy it. And as long as they left before sunset, they’d be fine. It was located in a sketchy part of town, and she didn’t want to be caught there after dark.
It was getting late, so there were only a few people around, and Connor and Mellie basically had the place to themselves as they wandered around. A guide came up to them, and Connor asked him a million questions.
He and the guide talked animatedly as she paid for the tour. Mellie had been on it several times, so she was content to listen to them talk as her mind wandered. Connor would call America young; she thought about other European countries and countries in Asia and the Middle East, and how old their cities were. They probably looked at America as a bratty toddler or moody tween. She wondered, as all those countries had risen to power and then fallen throughout time, had her country’s time come?
Was the US going to lose its place as a superpower, be relegated to the sidelines to watch another country rise and take its place? What would it mean for her country? Would it accept its new place in the world, or fight to hang on and make it a more painful transition? The political climate was so crazy that she wondered how things would shake out, and worried about her job. The arts was always one of the first places funding was cut.