Page 92 of Perfect Guy

Soft music plays from my laptop, helping me concentrate. My windows are open, birds chirping outside. The weather is changing, and soon most of those birds will migrate south. It’s the last of them, and I am enjoying the melody they’re adding to the music playing.

I finish the sketches and stretch my body. I’ll still look over them one more time, but they’re good to show Bill tomorrow and then the clients.

After showering, I head downstairs and refill my coffee, grateful the kitchen has cleared out already. I could go to Java Jitters and get out of the ranch a bit, but I am avoiding people asking me how Canaan is doing. I might start crying in their faces, making a normal situation painfully awkward.

Wilder and Hallie’s wedding is this weekend. It’ll probably be one of the last warmer weekends. I’m nervous, knowing Canaan will be there. It’s a small wedding, so it will be hard to ignore him. Hopefully, we can each sit at our own tables and avoid awkwardness.

With fresh coffee, I walk out the back door and inhale the fresh air, filling my lungs with the scent of hay, grass, and dust. The sun is shining, yet the air is crisp as summer starts to roll into fall. We still have a few weeks for fall to officially begin, but September offers a change.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, disrupting my peaceful observations. I fish it out, and my heart stops.

Canaan.

I stare at the notification with a shaky hand, my heart now pounding. What does he have to say? Is it the official breakup? I thought him telling me to leave and not contacting me for over a week and a half was crystal clear.

I tap the screen, bringing the message up.

Canaan: What do I and a cactus have in common? We’re both pricks

I furrow my eyebrows, re-reading his message. What the hell am I supposed to respond to that? Yes, you are? He needs to avoid stressful situations for his maximum healing, but I can’t just laugh this off.

Madelyn: Ding, ding, ding…

Sarcasm is my love language.

Canaan: Can we talk? In person?

I take a deep breath. We should talk. It’s long overdue. We should’ve had a conversation when he first got home from the hospital, but I was trying to take care of him and not add stress, and he was avoiding me even when I was present.

Madelyn: Sure

Canaan: Thank you. Let me know when you’re available. I’m obviously free at any time

Madelyn: I’ll text you. I have some work to do

Canaan: Ok

Nerves are ricocheting through me. They won’t stop until I see him and hear what he has to say. By his opening message, it could be an apology. However, apologies can go many different ways.

I’m sorry for being a prick, but we’re done. Didn’t want to break up on a bad note. Or I’m sorry for being a prick. I love you. Please forgive me.

I wish I could ride Dakota for hours and clear my mind, but I need to go over some things for the ranch, especially if I’m going to talk to Canaan before evening.

A few hours later, I drive up to Canaan’s house. I sit in my truck and take a few deep breaths until he opens the door, staring at me with confusion. Has he been watching me sit here? I can’t avoid this forever.

I turn the key and slide it out, my movements slow. It’s clear that I’m prolonging our confrontation. It also gives me time to look at him from a distance. His beard is full. His hair is tousled and longer. He hasn’t done much grooming in the weeks since I’ve seen him.

My eyes dart to his cast and then down his ribs hidden under his t-shirt. The scratches and bruises on his face have faded.

I nervously step onto the porch.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Were you going to leave?” His eyebrows dip.

“No.” I won’t acknowledge that I was nervous and needed a few minutes to gather my wits.

“Okay.” He nods and opens the door wider. “Come in. Thank you for coming.”