Page 54 of Five Days in July

“The twentieth.” I smile to myself. “I feel like we’re playing twenty questions.”

Without hesitating, he says, “I’m game if you are.”

“Okay. Who taught you how to make microwave pancakes?”

“That’d be Al.”

I snort. “Figures.”

“He’s not one for fine dining. Prefers speed over process most of the time. My turn.”

I wait for the question. As Matt watches me, I feel like he’s trying to filter through a bevy of questions to see which one he should ask first.

“What’s your favorite color?”

After so much deliberation and seriousness, I can’t help but laugh at the genericness of his question.

“Blue.” I don’t add that it’s quickly becoming the specific shade of stormy blue that his eyes turn when he’s happy and relaxed.

“How long ago did you start the garage?” I scoop out another bite.

“Twelve years now, I think. I’d just finished an apprenticeship program, and my mom sold our house and gave me part of the money to start the garage. It helped that I got a good deal on the land and that the shop was already built. I just had to add the garage bays and fix the parking lot.”

I’m impressed. “That had to be tough at first.”

“Yes and no. I didn’t have any experience running a business, so I relied on my mom and Al for a lot of advice. But I’m local, and people know my name. They know I would do a good job because I’ve been tinkering with people’s cars in my parents’ garage forever. It was definitely a process the first few years, and we were lucky Al and Annie let us live with them while we got settled.”

We eat in companionable silence, and I spear some of the cut fruit from the bowl he set between us earlier.

“Do you think you’d ever go back to college?”

This is the type of question I’d been expecting first.

“Yes and no. Even if I wanted to right now, I couldn’t afford it. And the idea of piling up even more student loan debt gives me heartburn. But finding a decent job that pays a living wage without a college degree is difficult. I didn’t declare a major before I left, so it’s not like I was working toward anything. It just felt like something I was supposed to do, so I did it.”

My college time wasn’t good, and the thought of going back to any campus still induced panic attacks. I worked through a lot of things with Dr. Connors, but being in that environment was still a huge trigger. If I ever did go back to school, it’d probably be virtually.

“What did your mom think of that?”

There’s a distinct sarcasm in my voice when I say, “She wasn’t at all happy about it.” It’s one of the biggest understatements of my life, but Matt doesn't ask more questions.

“That was two, by the way,” I say in a bid to change the subject.

“Alright, you get two then.” He smiles at me and drinks more coffee.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” I flush wildly and bury my face in my hands. I did not mean for that to come out of my mouth.

I must have caught Matt off guard, too, because he straightens and puts his coffee on the counter. “Yes. I do.” There’s something deep and meaningful in his voice as he says that, and his beautiful eyes are a dark, stormy navy.

He looks like he’s about to say something else but the dryer dings.

“I’ll go get it,” I blurt out and bolt past him into the garage where the washer and dryer are kept. Jerking open the dryer door, I fish his clothes out and clean the lint trap by habit.

I say a little prayer before I go back into the kitchen. Please, God, let him forget I asked that question.

The clothes are hot in my arms, just like I imagine he would be. Christ, where’d that thought come from?

I slam on my mental brakes and take some deep breaths.