The River House. Carla Neggers

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Three

      Felicity was sitting at her table on her deck fantasizing about absconding to Wyoming when a client in Boston phoned to reschedule a conference call. “I might have to go to Wyoming,” she said.

      But there were phones in Wyoming, and she set a date for next week.

      After she hung up, she opened her laptop and saved the updated files on the entrepreneurial boot camp. Organizing Gabe’s party, even on short notice, would be simple enough. She already had a venue, a caterer and a confirmed guest list. She doubted he’d care what she came up with. He was a master delegator, and he’d delegated her to handle his party. She could have kangaroos in pink tutus there, and he’d trust they were appropriate because she was the professional he’d hired to do the job.

      She regretted her comment about Wyoming in her email to Gabe but not much. It had felt good to say it out loud to her Boston client and act as if she was serious about clearing out of Knights Bridge while he was there.

      “Maybe I am serious,” she said.

      She looked up flights, hotels, camps and itineraries. She wanted to see Jackson Hole, the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone. She’d wanted to see them forever. Why not go now?

      Because she’d never imagined going to Wyoming without Gabe.

      She shook off that uncomfortable thought. She wished he’d cancel his appearance at the entrepreneurial boot camp, but she knew he wouldn’t. This was Gabriel Flanagan. He would keep his commitment.

      She’d manage. She knew she would, even as she checked out the sites in Jackson Hole. She’d been mad at him after his blunt lecture about her situation, but that anger was behind her. He had no role in her life. He wasn’t a positive or a negative. His visit to Knights Bridge for the boot camp and hiring her to handle the party weren’t anything out of the ordinary. Last-minute adjustments were part of her job as an event planner.

      She flipped through the photo gallery for a quality Jackson Hole hotel. “I can afford a suite,” she said.

      Well, two nights in a suite.

      The sun hit her laptop screen, and she gave up on absconding for the moment and went inside. The house had one main living area, where she often worked despite having taken over one of the three bedrooms for an office. She sat in her living room and switched to working on a final list of possibilities to present to Kylie for how to handle the badgers at next week’s launch party. The boot camp would be past her by then. Gabe would almost certainly have left town. It’d be a fun, relaxing evening.

      “Do not let Gabe worm his way back into your life,” Felicity said aloud. “Just don’t.”

      Not that he had that in mind. He’d had a lot going on the past few years with his work as a digital start-up whiz. She didn’t ask questions about him around town, but she’d pieced together the casual tidbits she’d heard, especially from Mark. After she’d stalked out of Gabe’s apartment three years ago, she’d resisted spying on him on social media. At first it’d been a struggle. Now she was never tempted.

      She sighed. “Well. Seldom tempted.”

      Sometimes she’d overhear a tidbit about him in town, and she’d feel the urge to find out what he was up to. She’d been tempted to ask Mark or Jessica, but she knew she couldn’t go backward—she had to keep moving forward. She and Gabe had made the break with each other three years ago. She’d decided it wasn’t in her interest or his interest for her to be a crutch for him or for him to be a crutch for her. That wasn’t what a real friendship was, and they knew—they couldn’t deny it any longer—that they couldn’t have a real friendship. Friendship would get in the way of relationships. Men for her. Women for him.

      “More like women for him.”

      Men and her...

      The truth was, there were no men and her. A dinner or a movie here and there but that was it. At first she’d blamed necessity. She’d had to focus on getting a roof over her head, paying bills, getting out of debt, learning the ropes of how to throw a wide range of meetings, conferences, parties and other events. Then she’d had to focus on keeping a roof over her head, putting away an emergency fund, staying out of debt and excelling at event planning—putting her own stamp on it. Then she’d had to focus on starting and running her own business. Moving to Knights Bridge. Buying a house.

      Would Gabe regard buying this house, on his family’s old campsite, as a fork in his eye?

      If I ever come back to Knights Bridge to live, it’ll be to the river. But I’ll never come back.

      He’d assured her she didn’t have to hate Knights Bridge and he’d be fine if she came back here to live, but that was different from buying this place.

      No question. He’d see her living on his grandfather’s old campsite as a fork in his eye. Had Mark told him she’d bought the house? Was that why Gabe had decided to appear at the boot camp at the last minute?

      She shook her head. No. If she could count on one thing never changing about Gabe Flanagan, it was his practical nature. The house and their shattered friendship hadn’t been a factor in his decision to do the boot camp and sponsor the party.

      Why was she getting herself worked up, anyway? Mark could have told him, Oh, yeah, Felicity’s a party planner now, why don’t you hire her? And Gabe could have said, Done—let her know, will you?

      She gave up on work, shut down her laptop and drifted back outside, taking the deck stairs to the strip of lawn bordered by the woods on the steep riverbank. She took a deep breath, trying to stay in the moment and focus on the smells and sounds of the waning afternoon. She glanced at the open brick fireplace, still intact from when Gabe and Mark’s grandfather had built it decades ago. Mark must have taken care for it to have survived construction of the house. She hadn’t had a fire in it yet.

      She brushed the fireplace’s worn brick, remembering another hot summer day. She and Gabe had met at their favorite swimming hole on the river after their jobs, hers at her father’s air-conditioned bank, his ripping apart a hot attic for an addition on a house near the village. They’d leaped into the river, laughing, enjoying the cool, clear water—by mutual agreement not talking about their impending departure for college. Afterward, they’d spread out a blanket from his car in front of the old fireplace. As daylight slipped away and the night turned cool, they’d built a fire.

      Felicity could smell the wood smoke as if she were eighteen again, stretched out next to Gabe. Her heart raced, as it had that night—this time, though, because she knew what had come next, not because of her reaction to Gabe touching her bare thigh. He’d never done that before, and it’d been their undoing. The campsite was isolated, the night brightened only by the flames of the fire and the spray of stars above them.

      Heat rose in her cheeks as that crazy night came back to her in all its clothes-tearing, laughing, exploring, reckless glory. What had she and Gabe been thinking?

      Of course, they hadn’t been thinking.

      She’d worried they’d end up rolling down the riverbank given their exuberance. He’d been completely absorbed in the act at hand, and she’d followed him over the brink. There’d been a lot of fumbling, awkward touching and panting, a few nervous laughs, and then it was over, the virginity threshold never to be crossed again.

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