Me: That was quick. You sure you don’t want to think about it?
Mountain Man: Why?
Me: Just to be sure.
Mountain Man: No, I'm good.
Me. Okie Dokey.
Me: Do you work this Saturday?
Mountain Man: No.
Me: A bunch of us are going out for Savannah’s birthday.
Mountain Man: Who?
Me: Savannah Williams? Youngest Williams sibling?
Mountain Man: …
Me: Sigh. Owners of The Dock? She’s the one who brought our food the other night? Blue and purple hair?
Mountain Man: Okay.
Me: Anyway, it’s probably not your scene. You know, fun and social. But if you want to come with me, you can. Hattie’s bringing Dylan.
Me: Or we can plan lunch or dinner a different day.
Mountain Man: Okay.
Me: Man of many words
I satmy phone down and picked up the rose quartz necklace I was working on before Seth had texted. Once I finished that, I began making a pair of earrings to go with the necklace. The set was for an order placed through my online store, but I liked how it turned out so much, I decided to make a second pair for me.
Rose quartz was often used to help release negativity, anger, and resentment. It would probably be good for me. I wore my citrine necklace almost all the time, and I thought it worked pretty well to evoke joy and positivity. Adding the rose quartzcould help with emotional healing. Well, at least it couldn’t hurt, right?
Although it was also thought to attract new love, which was not something I was looking for. Yet another reason the idea of fake dating Seth was enticing. I could show James I’d moved on and have someone to go do things with without actually dating.
Speaking of the big burly man who still hadn’t texted back. By now he was probably on shift.
Me: So… okay you’ll come Saturday night? Or okay you want to plan something else?
Mountain Man: The first one.
Me: You really don’t like words, do you?
Mountain Man: I don’t like unnecessary words. I just got to the station. I can text later.
I smiled. Technically, he didn’t need to text me at all. But for some reason I liked the idea that he might.
I made myself a late dinner and went back to making some jewelry. I’d been doing it since I was a teenager and I’d always found the process therapeutic.
Thoughts of my mom drifted into my head, and I picked up my phone. It had been too long since I’d talked to my parents.
“Hey, chickadee,” my mom said with her usual zest.
I smiled at the nickname she still called me. “Hi, Ma.”
