Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

upset?” My ears warmed, a not-so-subtle indication another blush had spread throughout my face, and I moved Lexie and strapped her into the front of the cart.

“Said like a true mom.” Crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as his mouth turned upward.

Something in his tone—a hint of admiration or respect—hit me out of the blue, reeling me forward, making me want to hear more. “Do you have plans for Father’s Day?” I asked.

“Not a whole lot, which is exactly the way I’d have it. And you?” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket with his right hand—no chance to see if he wore a ring or not.

“Dinner with the family.”

Family. Not alluring man at the grocery store.

The conversation needed to end, and I had to be the one who ended it. Walk away, I willed myself. Walk away. “Hope you enjoy the afternoon,” I said and added a quick “Thank you!” to the cashier and the bagger, nodding my head in the man’s direction. My short heels clicked on the blue and white tiles like old-fashioned typewriter keys, so desperate was I to flee before I said or did something regrettable.

Disbelief at my reaction washed over me. Noticing strangers at the grocery store. Flirting, stammering, and blushing at the view of a handsome man. Sadie Rollins-Lancaster—a woman with three children at home, a woman who still lived with a man she once loved? These behaviors weren’t normal.

Our cart bumped over the crevices of the parking lot, and my world moved in slow motion. One half of my attention on the purchases, the other trained on the sliding doors of the store, I loaded my groceries into the rear of the minivan and babbled with the baby. After securing Lexie in her car seat, I pulled the seat belt strap over my midsection, clicked it into place, and checked my mirrors before putting the vehicle into reverse. “Be real, lady,” I said to myself. “You’re stalling.”

At that moment, the man exited the store, and like a stalker, I followed his movements as he ambled toward his car. He performed the same mundane motions I just had as he chattered to his child. My heart skipped at his deep voice, carried by the wind to my open car window, and my pulse quickened at the sight of arms that would hold his daughter with ease.

“I can’t believe this.” Muttering to myself, I slammed my hands against the steering wheel and then jerked on it, pulling out of the parking space. “Really!”

“Wha?” Lexie asked. A glance in the rearview mirror showed my personal cherub, a beautiful example of how well Theo and I blended. A tear of regret sprang to my eye.

“Nothing, honey...I...I love you.”

Pretending the high-noon sun blinded me, I hoped the man didn’t catch me taking one last, longing look in his direction before I turned right out of the parking lot and onto the road. My entire body hummed, and I drove home on autopilot, my mind numb, the warm June wind whipping my hair through the open window.

 

Chapter 2: Sadie

 

Monday morning, at the beep of my alarm, I rose, padded down the stairs, and brewed the coffee. Charlie would remember to make his lunch if I placed his containers on the counter. At eleven years old, he was self-sufficient but still required daily reminders. Once everyone was awake, we’d review the day’s schedule, and then I’d drop Charlie and Delia off at day camp. As I opened the cabinet to pull down the kids’ vitamins, my eyes landed on the store receipt from the day before. I stopped, palms against the counter, to steady myself.

Hey, no worries. It’s Sunday...that voice again in my head. Another kaleidoscope of butterflies frolicked in my stomach, and a heat spread across my cheeks. Placing my cool fingers against the skin of my face, I concentrated on the coffee. A quick inhale of the fragrant brew should have helped. But still, thoughts of the man distracted me—his eyes, his arms, his smile, his...

The quiet lull of NPR always guided my mind in the right direction, so I flipped on the kitchen radio. And for a while, the distraction worked. Between bites of cereal and sips of coffee, I finished dishes from the night before, threw a load of laundry into the washing machine, and scooped the cat litter. After finding all the documents I’d need for work and placing them in my briefcase, I looked at the clock. Time to wake the children. Charlie, Delia, and Lexie would anchor my mind in the right place. And if they didn’t help, a conversation with Theo about paying his share of the latest in a long line of bills would do the trick.

But my encounter with Grocery Store Man haunted me the rest of the day—at work and at home—and well into Tuesday. That evening, after the kids were tucked into bed and Theo was busy watching sports in his portion of the house, I called my friend Kate, hoping her kind, familiar voice might push my thoughts back on the proper track.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Kate said. “Is there something I don’t know? Something going on with Theo? With you? Is everything okay?”

“No, nothing’s going on. I mean, we’re status quo. Living together but not living together. Same old same old, really.” Unconventional situation? Yes. But it worked for us.

“Hmm.” Silence from Kate never boded well.

“I’m human, right? Maybe it was just the moment.” I twirled the ends of the light afghan wrapped around my legs for warmth against the ceiling fan’s cool currents. My mind drifted to images of the man—pictures I’d never seen, but somehow formed in my imagination with ease. A rippled chest. A pair of muscular thighs. A broad, naked back. How had my thoughts become so tawdry so fast? How unlike myself: Were Theo and I all right? Was this situation working for us? For me?

“Or it wasn’t...” Kate’s clipped voice admonished me from