The Choice(20)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

“You come out here a lot?”

“Twice a week, maybe. This is where I come to think.”

“I’m sure the neighbors are thrilled about that.”

“It’s not like they can do anything about it. I own it.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised when you say that?”

“I’m not sure. I guess it just sounds so . . . domestic.”

“I do own a house already. . . .”

“And I hear your neighbor is terrific.”

“Yeah, yeah . . .”

“I just meant that buying a lot makes it sound like you’re the kind of guy who has long-term plans.”

“And you don’t see me like that?”

“Well . . .”

“If you’re trying to flatter me, you’re not doing a very good job.”

She laughed. “How about this, then: You continually surprise me.”

“In a good way?”

“Every time.”

“Like when you brought Molly to the clinic and realized I was a veterinarian?”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

He laughed. “Then let’s eat.”

She followed him back to the motorcycle, where he unpacked the basket and a blanket. After leading her up a small incline toward the rear of the property, he spread the blanket and motioned for her to sit. Once they were both comfortable, he started removing Tupperware containers.

“Tupperware?”

He winked. “My friends call me Mr. Domestic.”

He pulled out two chilled cans of strawberry-flavored iced tea. After opening hers, he handed it to her.

“What’s on the menu?” she asked.

He pointed to various containers as he spoke. “I’ve got three different kinds of cheese, crackers, Kalamata olives, and grapes—it’s more a snack than a lunch.”

“Sounds perfect.” She reached for the crackers and then sliced herself some cheese. “There used to be a house here, right?” When she saw his surprise, she waved toward the houses on either side of the lot. “I can’t imagine that this particular spot has been vacant for a hundred fifty years.”

“You’re right,” he said. “It burned down when I was a kid. I know you think Beaufort is small now, but when I grew up here, it wasn’t more than a blip on the map. Most of these historic homes had fallen into disrepair, and the one that had been here had been abandoned for years. It was a great big rambling kind of place with big holes in the roof, and it was rumored to be haunted, which made it that much more attractive to us when we were kids. We used to sneak over here at night. It was like our fort, and we’d play hide-and-seek for hours in the rooms. There were tons of great hiding places.” He pulled absently at some grass, as if reaching for the memories. “Anyway, one winter night, I guess a couple of vagrants lit a fire inside to stay warm. The place went up in minutes, and the next day it was just this smoldering pile. But the thing was, no one knew how to contact the man who owned it. The original owner had died and left it to his son. The son died, and he’d left it to someone else, and so on, so that pile of rubble sat there for about a year until the town came in and bulldozed it away. The lot kind of got forgotten after that, until I finally tracked down the owner in New Mexico and made a lowball offer on it. He accepted it immediately. I doubt if he’d ever been here, and he didn’t know what he was giving up.”

“And you’re going to build a house here?”

“That’s part of my long-term plan, anyway, being that I’m so domestic and all.” Travis grabbed an olive and popped it into his mouth. “You ready to tell me about your boyfriend yet?”

Her mind flashed to the conversation she’d had with Kevin earlier. “What’s your interest?”

“I’m just making conversation.”

Gabby reached for an olive as well. “Then let’s talk about one of your previous girlfriends instead.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them.”

“All right. One of them gave me some movie posters.”

“Was she pretty?”

He considered his answer. “Most people would say she was.”

“And what would you say?”

“I would say . . . that you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

She laughed, then pointed to the olives. “These are great, by the way. Everything you brought is perfect.”

He added cheese to another cracker. “When does your boyfriend get back to town?”

“Are we back to this again?”

“I’m just thinking of you. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big girl. And not that it matters, but he’ll be coming home on Wednesday. Why?”

“Because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you these last couple of days.”

“And I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

“But are you bummed it’s coming to an end?”

“It doesn’t have to come to an end. We’ll still be neighbors.”

“And I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind if I took you out for another motorcycle ride, or went for a picnic with you, or if you sat in the hot tub with me, right?”

The answer was obvious, and her expression became more serious. “He probably wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

“So it’ll be ending.”

“We can still be friends.”

He stared at her for a moment, then suddenly grabbed at his chest as if he’d been shot. “You really know how to hurt a guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as being friends. Not with single men and women our age. It just doesn’t work like that, unless you’re talking about someone you’ve known for a very long time. Certainly not when it comes to strangers.”

Gabby opened her mouth to respond, but there was really nothing to say.

“And besides,” he went on, “I’m not sure I want to be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Because most likely I’d find myself wanting more than that.”

Again, she said nothing. Travis watched her, unable to read her expression. Finally he shrugged.

“I don’t think you’d want to be friends with me, either. It wouldn’t be good for your relationship, since there’s no doubt you’d probably end up falling for me, too, and in the end, you’d do something you’d regret. After that, you’d blame me for it, and then after a while, you’d probably end up moving, since the whole thing would be so uncomfortable for you.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s one of the curses of my life to be as charming as I am.”

“It sounds like you’ve got the whole thing figured out.”

“I do.”

“Except for the part about me falling for you.”

“You can’t see that happening?”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“And you’re going to marry him?”

“As soon as he asks. That’s why I moved here.”

“Why hasn’t he asked you yet?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Do I know him?”

“Why are you so curious?”

“Because,” he said, his eyes steady on hers, “if I was him, and you moved up here to be with me, I would’ve already asked you.”

She heard something in his tone that made her realize he was telling the truth, and she looked away. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Don’t ruin this for me, okay?”

“Ruin what?”

“This. Today. Yesterday. Last night. All of it. Don’t ruin it.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She took a deep breath. “This weekend has meant a lot to me, if only because I finally felt I’d made a friend. A couple of them, actually. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having friends in my life. Spending time with you and your sister reminded me of how much I left behind when I moved here. I mean, I knew what I was doing, and I’m not sorry I made the decision I did. Believe it or not, I do love Kevin.” She paused, struggling to order her thoughts. “But it’s hard sometimes. Weekends like this most likely won’t happen again, and I’m partly reconciled to that, because of Kevin. But there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to accept that it’s a onetime thing, even though we both know it is.” She hesitated. “When you say things like you just said, and I know you don’t mean them, it just trivializes everything I’m going through.”

Travis listened intently, recognizing an intensity in her voice she hadn’t allowed him to hear before. And though he knew he should have simply nodded and apologized, he couldn’t stop himself from responding.

“What makes you think I didn’t mean what I said?” he countered. “I meant every word. But I understand that you don’t want to hear it. Let me just say that I hope your boyfriend realizes how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. He’s a fool if he doesn’t. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and I won’t say it again.” He grinned. “But I had to say it once.”

She looked away, liking what he had said despite herself. Travis turned toward the water, allowing her the silence she needed; unlike Kevin, he always seemed to know how to respond.

“We should probably be heading back, don’t you think?” He motioned toward the bike. “And you should probably check on Molly.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s probably a good idea.”

They packed up the remains of the food and placed the containers back into the basket, then folded up the blanket and retraced their steps to the motorcycle. Over her shoulder, Gabby saw people beginning to crowd the restaurants for a late lunch, and she found herself envying the simplicity of their choices.

Travis refastened the blanket and basket, then put on his helmet. Gabby did the same, and they pulled out of the lot a moment later. Gabby clung to Travis’s hips, trying and failing to convince herself that he’d said similar things to dozens of different women in the past.

They pulled into her drive, and Travis brought the motorcycle to a halt. Gabby let go of him and dismounted, removing her helmet. Standing before him, she felt an awkwardness she hadn’t experienced since high school, a notion that seemed ridiculous, and she had the feeling he was about to kiss her again.

“Thanks for today,” she said, wanting to preserve a little distance between them. “And thanks for the riding lesson, too.”

“My pleasure. You’re a natural. You should consider getting your own bike.”

“Maybe one day.”

In the silence, Gabby could hear the engine ticking in the heat. She handed Travis the helmet, watching as he placed it on the seat.

“Okay, then,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Hard not to, us being neighbors and all.”

“Do you want me to check on Molly for you?”

“No, that’s okay. I’m sure she’s doing fine.”

He nodded. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It wasn’t my place to pry like I did, or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “It didn’t bother me at all.”

“Sure it didn’t.”

She shrugged. “Well, since you were lying, I figured I’d lie.”

Despite the tension, he laughed. “Do me a favor? If this whole boyfriend thing doesn’t work out, give me a call.”

“I might just do that.”

“And on that note, I think I’ll take my leave.” He turned the handlebars and started walking the motorcycle backward, getting into position to leave her drive. He was about to start the engine when he looked at her again. “Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

She crossed her arms. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“A man’s got to seize the moment. It’s kind of my motto.”

“So I’ve learned.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

She took a step backward, but in spite of her reservations, she found herself smiling at his persistence. “How about if I make you dinner tonight instead? At my place. Seven o’clock.”

“Sounds great,” he said, and a moment later she was standing in the drive, wondering if she had taken temporary leave of her senses.

Thirteen

With the sun beating down mercilessly and the water from the hose icy cold, Travis had a hard time keeping Moby in one place. The short leash didn’t seem to help much; Moby hated baths, which struck Travis as ironic, considering how much the dog loved to chase after tennis balls thrown into the ocean. On those occasions, Moby would bound through the waves, dog-paddling with fury, and showed no hesitation about shoving his head underwater for a better grip if the tennis ball bobbed away from him. But if he noticed Travis opening the drawer where his leash was kept, Moby would seize the opportunity to explore the neighborhood for hours, usually returning long after dark.

Travis had grown used to Moby’s tricks, which was why he’d kept the leash out of sight until the last instant, then hooked it to Moby’s collar before he could react. Moby, as usual, had given him his best “how could you do this to me?” expression as he was being walked around back, but Travis had shaken his head.

“Don’t blame me. I didn’t tell you to roll in dead fish, did I?”

Moby loved to roll in dead fish, the more foul-smelling the better, and while Travis was parking his motorcycle in the garage, Moby had trotted up happily with his tongue hanging out, acting proud of himself. Travis had smiled for only an instant before the stench hit and he noticed the disgusting chunks embedded in Moby’s fur. After giving Moby a tentative pat on the head, he had sneaked inside to change into shorts, tucking the leash in his back pocket.