Tug-at-your-heartstrings new adult first love story.
What starts as a bet to avoid cleanup duties at her minimum wage cashier job, wins Amelie D'Amico more than she's ever hoped for.
When Ben, a cute customer who always checkouts at her register, fi...
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It's nearing ten-thirty in the morning when we make it to the indoor pool. For once, it's not empty. Several parents with kids have a baby swim class in the shallow end. I recognize Jaimie's red hair and baby Alex's loud giggles. The two are enjoying the song and dance in and out of the water led by a smiling middle-aged woman.
Her commands and several babies' screams reverberate from the walls and the ceiling, and I cringe at the cacophonous hubbub. Ben takes out earplugs from the pocket of his duffle, plugs his ears with them, and proceeds to ignore the ruckus. He heads straight for the imposing man in his thirties, who, stiff and tense, is monitoring the class's progress from the side of the pool. Is something going wrong?
"Cole, how long until the class is over?" asks Ben.
Although I've never seen Jaimie's husband in person, the photographs in her apartment feature him in most of the frames, and he's as unsmiling in them as he is at that moment, glaring at Ben and me.
"Five more minutes." Cole resumes his surveillance of the activities in the water.
"Alex is doing so well. What a great idea to start him with swimming classes," I pipe in, smiling at the happy boy in his mother's arms.
"Until he drowns," comes Cole's reply.
"You'll be glad you did it. He'll learn so much, and uncle Ben can take Alex swimming with him as well." I can already imagine them doing it in the future.
Cole grumbles in response and runs over with a towel to take Alex from Jaimie when the class is over. Giving the parents and children a moment to clear out of the pool, we chat with Jaimie and plan on taking Alex for a walk in a week, after I submit my thesis. I should've been done with it already. The research work is fascinating but the final edits are not at all my cup of tea. The tedium is nauseating. I have to push myself to do it every day and I don't always succeed.
"I've caved in and told your parents we would be joining you for Friendsgiving." Jaimie addresses her comment to Ben. "Cole was dead set on it being the three of us, but it's Alex's first Thanksgiving, and I want us to be with friends if we can't be with family."
"Mom hasn't told me yet," says Ben. "But this year's gathering will be huge. Mom and Dad are moving their traditional Friday Friendsgiving to Thanksgiving Day on Thursday."
Ben's family's having a party? Was he going to invite me or is it a family affair? Not that I love parties but I'd love an invitation. It's the thought that counts, after all.
Ben bends to help tug baby Alex's hands through the long shirt sleeves. "It started with Mike staying in the city, then some of Mom's friends from the orchestra weren't going anywhere—I lost count of how many people are coming."
"I'm glad we got invited. I'll be bringing the potato salad everyone likes. You'll love the Leonards's Friendsgiving bash, Amélie," says Jaimie. The possibility of me not getting an invitation didn't occur to her. Do I tell her I'm not invited?
