Page 4 of All This Time

God, am I ever going to get the chance to be in the same position? A new mom, exhausted from taking care of my newborn baby, but overwhelmed with gratitude for the role?

I just turned thirty, and I am not even close to making that a reality. I want a love like my parents had. I want a partner that looks at me as if I’m the center of his universe. And I want a family someday.

But then the fear of letting someone in again makes my chest tighten.

Heartache is difficult to recover from, and I’m not sure I’d survive it a second time.

Shaking off my plaguing thoughts before they burrow too deep, I head back to my station to clean and sanitize before my next client. Glenn’s close behind. “And that is why I will never have children,” Glenn declares as he shudders. “The smell of formula alone is enough to make me gag.”

“You never know. You might meet the right man one day and want to start a family with him. Don’t completely close the door on that opportunity.”

Glenn rolls his eyes. “The chances of me finding a gay man in this town are about as likely as winning the lottery, Laney.” He snaps his fingers as he heads back to his station. “But maybe a hot tourist will come in one day and prove me wrong.”

As he walks away, I can’t help but agree. Blossom Peak isn’t exactly a dating hotspot. Especially if you aren’t looking for a small-town high school legend turned hometown has-been with a hero complex.

“What’s he going on about this time?” Yvonne, my lead massage therapist, asks as she joins me where I’m sweeping.

“Oh, nothing we haven’t heard before. Ranting about how he’ll never find a man.”

“Ah… Speaking of men, how did your date with the guy from Asheville go the other night?”

I cringe. “Not great.”

Yvonne plants her hands on her hips. “What was wrong with this one?”

“As soon as I told him where I’m from, he asked me if I know you-know-who.” Rolling my eyes, I continue. “Like that’s the only thing Blossom Peak is known for.”

Claudia walks by us on her way to her nail station. “Are we talking about Lucifer?"

As my employees gossip about me right in front of me, I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the salon. From here, I have a great view of The Village, a hub of shops and restaurants in the heart of town lined with sidewalks, iron street lamps, and plenty of trees to provide shade in the warmer months.

Named for the cherry blossom trees that bloom each spring and the peaks surrounding the valley our town sits in just north of Asheville, Blossom Peak boasts some of the best ski slopes in the area and the landscape is full of color throughout the year.

However, as demonstrated by my lackluster date, Blossom Peak is also known for producing one of the most talented wide receivers the NFL has ever seen—a fact I try to forget. Hence why his name is not to be uttered in my salon. It was one boundary I could put in place to help keep me sane.

As I continue to sweep, I admire the décor of my salon—olive green chairs at each station gleaming in the sunlight coming through the tall front windows, white walls that make the space bright and open, black-framed mirrors hung in front of each stylist’s station, and smooth gray floors pulling it all together.

Past the stations on both sides of the room are three separate spaces—one for our nail technicians, one for our massage services, and one for facials and skin care.

I’m proud of what I’ve created, and even if I’m struggling in my personal life, at least I’m killing it in my professional life.

“She’s ignoring us again,” Yvonne says, pulling me back to the present.

I don’t bother lifting my eyes to her. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just choosing to remove myself from this conversation.”

Yvonne tsks. “Nope. Not until you tell me why every time a man brings up Flet—”

I hold my hand up to stop her. “Say the name and you have to put a dollar in the jar.”

She bats my hand away. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad.”

I sigh and pick up the broom again. “My date didn’t want to know anything aboutme. He just wanted to know if I’d ever met you-know-who and if I knew when he might be in town again so he could casually drop by to try to run into him.”

Yvonne shrugs. “It’s not every day that a small town like ours produces a bona fide celebrity, Laney."

I know Yvonne is right, but it doesn’t mean I have to talk about Fletcher as if I still know him. Once upon a time I did, but that changed quickly and drastically after that night twelve years ago.

Fletcher went on to get drafted to the NFL, fulfilling his dream of playing football professionally and leaving our hometown behind just like he intended. And thanks to his demanding schedule, I’ve only crossed paths with him a handful of times over the years.