weren't moving.”
“Well, we're both moving,” I remind him. “We're moving on with our lives. We're taking control, right? We're becoming the people we were meant to be.” I glance around the slightly messy kitchen. “And it's obvious you are an artiste in the kitchen, Will. I hope someday you own your own restaurant.” Then I point to his hair. “Weren't we going to cut your hair?”
“You still want to?”
“Sure.” I pick up some plates. “Let me start cleaning this up while you dig out those scissors.”
Before long he's back and seated on the barstool, and I am cautiously snipping away at his shaggy brown hair. “I don't want to cut too much,” I say. “I mean, you don't really seem like a button-down kind of guy. But I'll try to neaten it, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
As I'm cutting, I can feel a serious attraction to this guy—I mean, it's like electric—and so I hurry up with the haircut. When I'm satisfied, I step back and think I need to go take a nice cool shower. “Go look,” I tell him, pointing to the bathroom.
He comes back with a smile. “Great job. Thanks.”
Then we both clean up the kitchen, but I'm careful to keep a safe distance. Not that I think Will would try anything on me. Imean, this guy is used to the looker Monica Johnson. The problem is that I don't trust myself. Finally we finish up, and I say it's been a long day and I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow. Hint, hint.
“Thanks for making dinner,” I tell him. “It was truly unforgettable.”
“Thanks for everything,” he tells me. “I'm thinking that you're an angel.”
I laugh. “I can assure you that I'm not.” Then I think of something. “But I will be praying for you, Will. I'll pray that you find the perfect restaurant to work in and that life starts going in a really great direction.”
“Do you really believe in prayer?” he asks with a frown.
“You mean, do I believe that you can pray for things and they just magically will happen?” I shake my head. “But I do believe that God is listening, and sometimes when we're listening to him and getting it right, we manage to pray the kinds of prayers that God can say yes to.”
He nods slowly as if he's trying to wrap his head around this.
“The problem is, I'm not sure I can pray like that for my own life right now,” I admit. “But I know I can for you.”
He frowns. “Man, I wish I could pray for you too, Cassie. I really owe you big time, but I'm not really, you know, into that kind of thing.”
“I know.” I smile. “And I actually understand.”
he next morning Will helps me load my remaining things in the U-Haul. There doesn't seem to be much to say as we stand outside in the crisp autumn air. “Thank you,” I tell him, throwing my arms around his neck in a spontaneous hug. “Believe it or not, you have been a real godsend.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “First time anyone said anything like that about me.”
“I'll be sending that letter of recommendation,” I tell him as I walk over to the driver's side. “Not that my seal of approval will help much. And you don't really need it, Will. You are a pro. You just need to believe in yourself and go for it.”
“You too,” he says. Then he frowns. “By the way, what exactly are you going for?”
I make a face and shrug. “Good question.”
“We talked so much about me and my future, but you never said what you want to be when you grow up, Cassie.”
I laugh. “Maybe it's because I haven't grown up yet.” Then I hoist myself into the cab. “Hey, maybe I'll become a truck driverand drive one of those big old semis cross country and smoke big cigars and learn how to cuss.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I can't really see that.”
“Stay in touch,” I say as I start the engine and adjust the mirrors, sitting up straighter.
“You too.”
Then I pull out, and the last thing I see as I drive away from Part One of my adult life is Will, Monica's ex,
“Well, we're both moving,” I remind him. “We're moving on with our lives. We're taking control, right? We're becoming the people we were meant to be.” I glance around the slightly messy kitchen. “And it's obvious you are an artiste in the kitchen, Will. I hope someday you own your own restaurant.” Then I point to his hair. “Weren't we going to cut your hair?”
“You still want to?”
“Sure.” I pick up some plates. “Let me start cleaning this up while you dig out those scissors.”
Before long he's back and seated on the barstool, and I am cautiously snipping away at his shaggy brown hair. “I don't want to cut too much,” I say. “I mean, you don't really seem like a button-down kind of guy. But I'll try to neaten it, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
As I'm cutting, I can feel a serious attraction to this guy—I mean, it's like electric—and so I hurry up with the haircut. When I'm satisfied, I step back and think I need to go take a nice cool shower. “Go look,” I tell him, pointing to the bathroom.
He comes back with a smile. “Great job. Thanks.”
Then we both clean up the kitchen, but I'm careful to keep a safe distance. Not that I think Will would try anything on me. Imean, this guy is used to the looker Monica Johnson. The problem is that I don't trust myself. Finally we finish up, and I say it's been a long day and I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow. Hint, hint.
“Thanks for making dinner,” I tell him. “It was truly unforgettable.”
“Thanks for everything,” he tells me. “I'm thinking that you're an angel.”
I laugh. “I can assure you that I'm not.” Then I think of something. “But I will be praying for you, Will. I'll pray that you find the perfect restaurant to work in and that life starts going in a really great direction.”
“Do you really believe in prayer?” he asks with a frown.
“You mean, do I believe that you can pray for things and they just magically will happen?” I shake my head. “But I do believe that God is listening, and sometimes when we're listening to him and getting it right, we manage to pray the kinds of prayers that God can say yes to.”
He nods slowly as if he's trying to wrap his head around this.
“The problem is, I'm not sure I can pray like that for my own life right now,” I admit. “But I know I can for you.”
He frowns. “Man, I wish I could pray for you too, Cassie. I really owe you big time, but I'm not really, you know, into that kind of thing.”
“I know.” I smile. “And I actually understand.”
he next morning Will helps me load my remaining things in the U-Haul. There doesn't seem to be much to say as we stand outside in the crisp autumn air. “Thank you,” I tell him, throwing my arms around his neck in a spontaneous hug. “Believe it or not, you have been a real godsend.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “First time anyone said anything like that about me.”
“I'll be sending that letter of recommendation,” I tell him as I walk over to the driver's side. “Not that my seal of approval will help much. And you don't really need it, Will. You are a pro. You just need to believe in yourself and go for it.”
“You too,” he says. Then he frowns. “By the way, what exactly are you going for?”
I make a face and shrug. “Good question.”
“We talked so much about me and my future, but you never said what you want to be when you grow up, Cassie.”
I laugh. “Maybe it's because I haven't grown up yet.” Then I hoist myself into the cab. “Hey, maybe I'll become a truck driverand drive one of those big old semis cross country and smoke big cigars and learn how to cuss.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I can't really see that.”
“Stay in touch,” I say as I start the engine and adjust the mirrors, sitting up straighter.
“You too.”
Then I pull out, and the last thing I see as I drive away from Part One of my adult life is Will, Monica's ex,
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