Page 5 of The Holiday Exchange

She’s going to ghost me. I just know it.

I tap to read Grant’s message.

Grant

We still on for a workout tomorrow at 2?

Trevor

Yep, see you then

I lay my phone face down on the counter and try to ignore it as I pull out the ingredients for a grilled cheese sandwich. My stomach rumbles at the sizzling sound when I lay a piece of buttered bread in the hot skillet and begin layering on the cheese, a stray piece of turkey sandwich meat I found in theback of the fridge that somehow hasn’t expired, and one more piece of bread.

While it cooks, I rummage in a cabinet and come up with a bag of potato chips and a jar of pickle spears to go with the sandwich.

Dinner of kings.

This time when my phone vibrates, I ignore it, sure that it’s Grant responding again. Carrying my plate to the table, I grab a glass of water and settle in to eat. Only after I’ve consumed half the sandwich do I take the time to read Grant’s message.

Except it’s not Grant. My hand pauses in midair with a chip six inches from my mouth as I read.

Kayla

Hi Trevor, sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I hosted book club this evening and got a little tied up. Anyway, I’m free tomorrow afternoon. You?

Oh. I guess I overreacted.

My thumbs hover over the screen as I do some mental math on my availability after the gym tomorrow.

Trevor

I’m free at 4pm or later. Meet for coffee?

I wait, watching the screen for her response. Maybe she wasn’t expecting me to text back so quickly. I resume eating my sandwich, not because I’m hungry now, but to distract me.

After an eternity – okay fine, it was six minutes – my phone dings again.

Kayla

I can’t do coffee. Push it to 6 and say dinner?

Trevor

That works. Where do you want to go?

She names a café that’s not far from my house. I send her a thumbs-up emoji and sit back in my chair, staring at my empty plate. On the outside, I’m sure I look perfectly composed. On the inside, I’m overthinking like crazy.

But the thing about overthinking is, sometimes realizing you’re doing it isn’t enough. I can’t just flip it off and calm the crazy. What Icando is take a few deep breaths and get it out on paper.

I carry my plate to the kitchen and leave it in the sink. Yanking open a drawer, I withdraw a legal pad and pen and start streaming my consciousness into a jumbled thought map. Everything comes out, like brain vomit. Eventually, I am able to distill my thoughts into a list of actionable items like ‘figure out what time to leave’ and ‘make a list of suggestions for set pieces’.

I leave off thoughts like ‘Will dinner with Kayla feel like a date?’ and ‘What if I say something stupid that makes her want to back out of our deal?’ and ‘What if selective amnesia makes me forget how to use a power saw and can’t help her like I promised?’.

Those concerns still linger in the back of my mind, but now that I’ve written them down and organized my thoughts, maybe I can at least get some sleep tonight.

5

KAYLA