Dawson woke up to light streaming through the blinds in his bedroom. He squinted in the brightness and reached for his cell phone on the bedside table. He flipped it over and saw that it was nine o’clock in the morning. Panic jolted through him, and then he remembered it was Sunday. Technically, he could sleep in. But he couldn’t remember sleeping in since high school.
He lay back on his pillows again, the phone still in his hand, as his mind caught up with the events from the last few days. Thursday night he and Clara had gone to Rick’s BBQ. Friday he’d won his big court case, getting his client who owned a used car lot the money her ex-husband owed her. He’d come home exhausted, and behind on preparing for Monday. He’d been up until after midnight, then awake again early Saturday.
He’d worked through the entire day, only stopping for an obligatory lunch with his mom. He’d also texted Clara. She’d replied, but everything was short. Dawson decided he didn’t like to communicate with Clara through texting. In person was much, much better. Today, he hoped to see her.
But first, he’d need to see if his paralegal had reviewed the documents he’d sent over yesterday. He sat up in bed and pulled up the email app on his phone. Sure enough, there was the file. After a quick shower and something to eat, he’d open it up on his laptop and go over the changes. He typed a thank-you reply, then made his way to the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he had juice and a bagel sitting on the kitchen counter next to his laptop. He’d just started reading his paralegal’s notes when someone knocked at his door. He decided to just ignore it.
Another knock sounded. Then Leslie’s voice came through, loud and clear. “I know you’re in there, Dawson. Your red truck is a dead giveaway.” She laughed.
Dawson stifled a groan, and he walked to the door. Sure enough, through the peephole he could see Leslie, wearing a hot-pink jacket and bouncing up and down.
He turned the dead bolt and opened the door.
“Oh, goodness!” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re, uh, not dressed.”
Dawson glanced down and realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Only his gym shorts. He smiled, hoping to pass on the message that he could go shirtless in his own apartment.
“I—I stopped by to invite you to a neighbor lunch,” Leslie said, finally meeting his eyes. Her face nearly matched the color of her jacket. “It’s just me, you, Tiff, and Robby. You know him, from apartment 3F?”
Vaguely. Dawson scrubbed a hand through his hair. Now that he’d gone to Leslie’s yoga class, he felt that he didn’t have to play the good-neighbor routine to the extent of having lunch together. “I already have lunch plans, but thanks for the invite.”
“Oh? Really?” Leslie gave him a slow smile. “With another woman?”
Dawson could easily bring up his mom at this point, but that wouldn’t deter someone like Leslie. She’d probably like him all the more for it. But if he told her he was going out with another woman, specifically Clara, whom Leslie actually knew . . .
“Yes, Clara Benson,” he said. “She’s in your yoga class.”
Leslie’s face lost some of its color. “Clara? She’s . . . yes, she’s in my class.” She looked Dawson up and down. “I didn’t think she was your type, you know, she’s sort of . . .” Leslie pursed her lips.
“Thanks again for the invite,” he said and started to close the door.
“Wait!” Leslie shot out her hand to stop the door from closing. “What about later? I mean, maybe just you and I can go on a hike. It’s really good for your thigh muscles.”
Dawson almost rolled his eyes when she ogled him again. He leaned against the door frame. “I don’t think Clara would like that,” he said in what he hoped sounded like a regretful tone. “She’s sort of the jealous type, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh.” Leslie’s eyes rounded. “I got it. Not a problem. But, if things don’t work out with Clara, we can have some fun together.”
Dawson had absolutely no reply to that. He nodded and shut his door, sliding the lock into place so Leslie could hear it. He turned away from the door. Would Leslie say something to Clara about their conversation at the next yoga class? Would Clara be mad? He’d pretty much told Leslie that he and Clara were dating.
He crossed the room and picked up his cell phone. It was 10:00 on Sunday morning, and maybe Clara slept in longer. But this was sort of an emergency.
He pulled up her number and pressed CALL.
When she didn’t answer, he debated about whether he should leave a message. “Hi, it’s Dawson. Or Mr. Harris. Whichever you prefer. I might have just told Leslie a desperate lie. So I’m hoping that you’ll call me back, soon, and I can explain.”
He hung up and tried to return to reviewing the brief on his laptop, but he found himself checking his phone every few minutes. When it finally rang an hour later, he snatched it off the counter. Heart hammering, he answered, “You called back.”
“Are you okay?” Clara asked, concern in her voice.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Dawson said quickly. “I just . . . uh . . . can you meet for lunch today?”
“Lunch?” Clara paused. “What’s going on with Leslie?”
Dawson started pacing as he talked. His nerves were in a giant knot. He told her about the conversation at the door, and Clara started laughing.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“You opened the door without a shirt on?”
Dawson stopped pacing. “Is that a crime?”
“I saw how Leslie fawned all over you at the yoga class,” Clara said. “You probably made one of her wildest dreams come true.”
“I’m not interested in Leslie, and no matter how many times I turn her down, she doesn’t get the message,” Dawson said. “So I might have embellished a little about you and me.”
“What do you mean?” Clara’s tone instantly sounded wary.
Dawson explained how Leslie had invited him to lunch, and how he’d said he had lunch plans with Clara . . . then implied they were dating.
“We aren’t dating,” Clara said.
He tried not to let her bluntness sting. “I know,” he said. “We’re just hanging out, but I didn’t think Leslie needed the clarification.”
When Clara didn’t say anything for a long time, Dawson looked at his phone to make sure they were still connected. “Clara?”
“Jeff told me your mom sometimes tries to set you up on dates,” she finally said.
“Yes . . .”
“So that day you asked me to the symphony, you were looking to fill a ticket,” she continued. “I’m thinking your mom was trying to set you up, and you were trying to get out of it.”
“That’s not exactly—”
“And now you’re trying to get out of being pursued by Leslie by using me as an excuse.”
Dawson exhaled. “I was going to call you anyway.”
“Really?” Clara said, her tone doubtful. “You’re a grown man, a successful attorney, and, well, I think you can tell Leslie the truth. Remember what we talked about at dinner the other night? How telling the truth from the very beginning can make our lives so much easier?”
“You’re right,” Dawson said. He didn’t know whether to be impressed with Clara or to feel like he was a huge idiot—or maybe a combination of both. “You’re absolutely right. Have you ever thought about going to law school?”
“No,” she said with a laugh.
Dawson relaxed at the sound of her laugh. Maybe she wouldn’t hang up on him after all.
“I’m an elementary school teacher,” she said. “I was teaching kindergarten before I came to Pine Valley. You’d be surprised how much skill it takes to moderate the emotions and actions of five-year-olds.”
He crossed to the couch in the living room and sat down. “What made you change your career?”
She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “My school was a private school, and it shut down temporarily because it was under investigation for financial fraud. About the same time things ended with my ex, and then my grandma had her stroke. After she died, I quit my job and decided to start over.”
Dawson’s mind reeled. “Wow. Any one of those things would have been tough, but all three?”
“What’s the saying, ‘When it rains it pours’?”
“Yeah, life can be strange that way,” he said. “I’m sorry about your grandma and your job. Now that you told me, I can totally see you as a kindergarten teacher. I’ll bet every five-year-old boy was in love with you.”
Clara gave a soft laugh. “I might have gotten one or two love notes.”
Dawson grinned. “I’d love to hear more about what brought you to Pine Valley, so I’m hoping that you’ll want to get some lunch together.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Is that a yes?” Dawson asked.
“Maybe.”
“Ah, that word again.” He groaned. “Okay, I’m going to Leslie’s apartment right now, and I’m going to tell her the truth. Then around one o’clock I’ll be standing in line at the Main Street Café, trying to decide if I want soup or a sandwich, or maybe both. I’ll save you a seat in case you happen to show up. Deal?”
“I can see how you win court cases,” Clara said.
Dawson heard the smile in her voice, and that was all he needed.
Five minutes later, he knocked on Leslie’s apartment door. He’d never been to her apartment, but she’d told him which one it was plenty of times. Oh, and he’d also put on a shirt.
The door opened almost instantly, and Leslie’s eyes about popped open when she saw him. That was truly a feat, because she’d certainly looked through her peephole before opening the door.
“Oh my gosh, you came!” Leslie stepped forward and threw her arms about his neck.
Dawson had no choice but to hug her back.
Leslie pulled back and grabbed his hand. “Come in. You’re way early, but I can give you the grand tour.”
Dawson disentangled his hand from hers. “I’m not coming for lunch,” he said. “I just had to talk to you for a second. I sort of led you to believe that Clara and I were dating, and, well, we’ve been on one date. I don’t know if we’ll keep dating, but even if we don’t, I don’t want you to think that I’m going to eventually date you.”
Leslie’s eyes had gone from wide with surprise to narrow with confusion.
“You’re a talented woman, Leslie, and you’re fun to be around,” Dawson continued, feeling like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of sand. “But I’m not attracted to you in a romantic sense. I wanted to be straight up with you so that I don’t hurt your feelings, in case you have other expectations.”
Leslie opened her mouth, then shut it. Then her face went a deep red. She stepped back, gripping the edge of her door so hard that her fingers turned white.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to fill in the awkward silence. “I hope I didn’t—”
With a sudden movement, Leslie swung the door toward him, and Dawson barely backed out of the way before it shut in his face.
He stood there for a moment, stunned. Obviously he’d embarrassed her, made her furious. Could he have worded things differently? Spoken less truth so she wouldn’t be so mad? No, he told himself. It was better this way . . . at least he hoped. Leslie was a great person. She didn’t deserve rejection. She also didn’t deserve to be led on.
After another minute of staring at the door, and knowing that he’d said what needed to be said, he left Leslie’s apartment. When he got back to his place, he sent Clara a text: Just had a door slammed in my face. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Clara replied right away: Ouch. She doesn’t want to be friends?
I think her answer would be no, although I didn’t dare knock again to find out.
Poor you. But you did the right thing, she wrote.
He hoped so. If my apartment is on the news for being on fire, I have a lead on the arsonist.
Ha. Ha. She’ll get over you quicker than you think.
Not a compliment.
It’s good for you to be taken down a notch once in a while.
Funny. I don’t think I can take two rejections in one day. I’ll be saving you a seat for lunch.
I hope you’re crossing your fingers.
Dawson smiled and sent back the crossed-fingers emoji. He’d been teasing her, but he realized he was sort of serious as well. He felt pretty terrible about what had happened with Leslie, and spending time with Clara would make him feel better—especially since she’d been the one to tell him to confess the truth to Leslie.
Now that he thought about it more, it had been liberating. Yeah, it had been hard, uncomfortable, and awkward, but it had also been the right thing to do.