Love Locked (8 page)

She’s tempted to go straight back in and do another spin class just to help take her mind off it.

Chapter Nine

(5:55)

I
T FEELS FUNNY BEING
back on her clunky, old mountain bike. Jocelyn’s been at a friend’s place, getting lessons on using the clipless pedals installed on the road bike she’s borrowing for the weekend.

When she was asked to join in a long–distance bike relay, she said “Sure.” It was only later that she said, “I’m not that experienced a rider,” and they said “Don’t worry — you’re fit; you’ll do fine. Plus, we’re desperate.”

It’s all part of her strategy to say
yes
to the world, life, everything. Just keep saying yes, so she’s too busy to dwell on Lucas. So, eventually, she’ll find something so great it will make her forget him.

She stands on her (non–clipless) mountain–bike pedals to tackle the small but sharp rise ahead of her, and when she crests it, her stomach does the quick flip the hill failed to give it.

No way.

There’s a guy standing up ahead, staring at a bike leaning up against the signpost where she first met Lucas. A guy built just like Lucas. A mountain bike like his. Every line in his body shows the same frustration as Lucas’s did that first day.

She coasts closer. It
is
Lucas.

And, again, like a replay of that day, what to do? To whiz right by behind his back and just avoid the whole situation? Sure, as if the magnet drawing her to him would let her do that …

She slows. Lets the bike glide. It wobbles as it nears him. He glances up — brow furrowed, mouth in as close to a frown as his happy mouth can get — then his eyes focus on her and a jolt runs through him. She sees it. Wants to point at him, yell, “I saw that! I saw it! It’s not just sex. It’s sex
plus
. It’s a connection. Don’t deny it!”

But, considering five seconds later she’s already second–guessing herself about it — Did she really see it? Did she want to see it so much that she imagined it? — she hardly has enough confidence to confront him with it. Instead she says, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Those fingers going through that hair again. “I’m sorry. You’re going to think I’m perpetually grumpy. I’m late. Again.”

She checks the time. 5:55.
What is he late for?

There are flowers — pretty flowers; but then, she’d think any flowers he brought were pretty — sticking out of his bag.

“Oh … why? What happened?”

“A flat. And, like an idiot, I never carry a spare tube for my mountain bike — the tires aren’t supposed to go flat — so I’m stuck, and it’s a surprise party, so I have to be there on time …”

Her mind races. A surprise party. Flowers. He looks nice, too. A step down from the office look he wore the first time she met him, but still nice. Like he’s tried. Like he’s trying to impress someone, but like he can still cut loose later.

She swallows. “Take mine.”

“What?”

They’re nearly the same height — how many times has she thought it? And she has a man’s bike. Always has ridden men’s bikes. “The seat’s quick–release — you can adjust it how you like. I don’t want you to be late.”

“Really?” he asks. “You would do that?”

She nods. “Of course. I’m not in a rush. I’ll walk your bike home.”

“When can I bring it back to you? Should we pick a time this weekend?”

Yes, no
— what’s the right answer? Fortunately she doesn’t have to choose between being available or not available. “I’m not around this weekend. But you know where I live …” She shrugs, smiles. “I’ll lock yours in the back yard and you can swap it for mine whenever.”

“Oh. OK. That works.”

“Yup,” she says. “It should.”

She waits for him to grab her bike, get pedaling. After all, he’s in a rush. He hesitates, though. “Are you going to visit that friend of yours? That guy I met? Sam?”

Sam
. He remembered his name. Why did he remember his name? What did Ade say?
‘When you think about someone a lot, you remember their name.’
Has Lucas been thinking about Sam — about Sam and her?
Wishful thinking …

“I, uh, no. That’s not it.” The long hesitation, her awkward answer, make it sound like a lie, even to her. Even though it’s not. She shakes her head. “Shouldn’t you get going?”

“Yeah, of course.” He takes hold of her handlebars a millisecond before she lets go, and their hands brush.
Whoosh
. Butterflies explode in her gut.

He swings onto the bike, “Thanks, again.”

“Wait!” She reaches for his backpack. “These beautiful flowers, they’re going to fall out. Let me just tighten the zipper around them.” She pats the now–secured pack. “Now, move!”

He pedals off, and she exhales for what feels like the first time since she saw him. “OK, so …” She steps to his bike, abandoned against the signpost. “I guess it’s just you and me.”

She guides the bike onto the path and, wheeling it beside her, continues home much more slowly than before.
Don’t think about Lucas. Don’t think about his surprise party. Think about the relay tomorrow — it’ll be fun …

“Hey!”

She looks up. “Whoa! Lucas, you scared me. What are you doing back here?”

He’s standing on his pedals —
her
pedals. He’s slowed the bike and brought it to a near stand–still. “I just … I wanted you to know … the flowers — the party — they’re for my mom. She’s retiring.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” That’s so, so nice. He’s such a nice person to take flowers to a surprise retirement party for his mom. Her heart flutters with the niceness of it. “Tell her …” She hesitates; of course he can’t tell his mom Happy Retirement from her — his mom wouldn’t have a clue who she is — “I mean, I’m happy for her.”

“OK. I’m going to go. But I wanted to tell you.” He manoeuvres the bike in a slow–motion U–turn to head back the way he came.

“Bye!” she calls after his retreating back.
Bye
.

Well. That was … what? Nice? Weird? Hopeful? Not terrible, anyway. She can confidently say that was a good exchange. Now if only she could camp out by his bike all weekend and wait for him to come pick it up.

Chapter Ten

(11:11)

J
OCELYN GETS HOME FROM
her relay worn–out, pretty sure she’ll have some weird sore muscles tomorrow, and satisfied. She wasn’t the slowest rider. She didn’t crash with her feet still attached to the fancy pedals. Her teammates were happy.

Hot bath. Definitely high on the priority list. And food. She’s babysitting Lainey and Byron tonight. Maybe they can all share a pizza. Her stomach growls at the thought. But as much as she wants comfort and nourishment, the first place she heads is the back yard.

Jed’s back there, pushing Lainey on the swing hanging from the twisted apple tree in the corner of the yard.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey, come to check out your bike? My brother brought it back in one piece, from what I can see. It was lucky he ran into you.”

Of course. Jed would have been at the party, too. “Did he make it on time?” she asks.

“Just. Thanks to you. He told me that about six times.”

She doesn’t want to smile like a giddy school girl but her exhaustion lifts; her whole body feels lighter. “Oh, good. I’m glad.” She looks around. “So, where is it?”

“Oh, he asked me to put it in the shed. He didn’t want to leave it out in case it rained. He said you were away for the weekend? Don’t know where he got that idea … anyway, it’s safe and sound.”

“OK, well, thanks. I’ll just go get clean, and changed, and I’ll be down so you and Beth can head to dance class.”

Jed grins. “No rush!”

“Oh, Jed, you love dance class.”

He shakes his head. “I love my wife, and she loves dance class.”

“See you soon.”

Jocelyn figured out how much pizza she and the kids would eat, and then doubled the order. As she pulls her fourth slice from the box, she’s glad she did.

I wonder what Lucas is eating right now … Stop it!

She’s learned to love watching movies with the kids — the stories are never violent, or upsetting — sure there’s the occasional heartstring–pulling moment, but it’s guaranteed to end happily–ever–after. Awesome.

I wonder what Lucas is doing right now … You might not want to know …

Jocelyn’s read that popcorn is a choking hazard for little kids, so she dishes ice cream up for them instead. Fine with her. Butterscotch ripple with butterscotch sauce. Heaven.

The kids are already in bed — Byron snoring, Lainey’s hair spread across her pillow — when Beth and Jed come through the door, laughing; Beth’s cheeks flushed watermelon pink. On impulse, Jocelyn says, “Next week I’ll have the kids up at my place and they can sleep over.”

“Really?” The pink on Beth’s cheeks goes to fuchsia.

“Absolutely.”

Sunday, Jocelyn takes every excuse to be out, walking in the neighbourhood, where she might run into Lucas. Or even Charlotte. She craves contact with his life. Yes, their last encounter was good, but there’s that niggling worry in the back of her head. Jed said he thought she was away for the weekend. Why did he even mention it? Does it mean something? She wants to tell him she wasn’t. Just like he doubled back on his bike to tell her the party was for his mom, she wants to clarify, ‘I didn’t go to see Sam; I’m not out of town.’ But how? She should have been clearer back on the bike path. Now it would just seem like a weird thing to randomly text him.

But if she just happened to see him … on the bike path? Nope. Walking past the pub for the first time in ages, just in case? Nuh–uh. Skirting through the park; walking close to a group of people playing ultimate? No Lucas.

So, she spends Sunday at home, with her phone turned off, re–watching one of the movies she watched a couple of weeks ago with Lainey and Byron, and it’s only Monday morning, when she goes to get her bike out of the shed to ride it to work, that she finds the note Lucas had attached to it.

Jocelyn,

I cannot thank you enough. You saved my butt. My dad would have killed me.

I’m at a conference out of town for the next week, but maybe we can meet up when I get back?

Now I owe you some food and a beer (or a pitcher) (or two).

Lucas

Oh, wow. She wishes she’d found the note earlier. But, then her Monday morning wouldn’t have had such a lift. And a lift on Monday is always good. So, Jocelyn cycles off to work with a smile on her face and possible quick, funny, text replies running through her head.

She waits until Wednesday, then keeps it short and simple.
Got your note. Glad you made it on time. Text me when you get back re: meeting up. Hope you’re having fun!

He replies quickly.
Will do. Busy here. Talk soon.

OK, so it’s not gushy. It’s not even sweet. But it says they’ll talk soon. That’s good. She holds that in her brain and maybe feels a little less walking–on–airish than at the beginning of the week, but still hopeful.

By Friday, Jocelyn’s stomach’s in knots. Don’t most conferences end before the weekend? Shouldn’t he text her today if they’re going to meet up this weekend?

She goes to a pub near her work to celebrate a co–worker’s upcoming wedding and wishes she was at a different pub, in different company. Which isn’t fair, because she’s really very happy for her co–worker, who waited three–and–a–half years for her fiancé to propose. She goes home early, tumbles into bed at 11:11 by her bedside clock.

By Saturday morning, she’s considering googling conferences in Lucas's area of specialty to see when the one he’s at might be over. The problem is, beyond “working in an office,” she doesn’t know exactly what he does.
Interviewing fail, Jocelyn
.

She runs, and cycles, and goes grocery shopping for fun things to feed Byron and Lainey at tonight’s sleepover.

Sunday morning, Jocelyn marches the two pancake–and–bacon–fed kids down the stairs to their main–floor apartment, to find Beth and Jed sitting at the kitchen table, reading different sections of the paper, holding hands.

Oooof.
The breath whistles out of her. But she’s happy for them. She really is.

Jed takes Byron and Lainey to brush their teeth, and Jocelyn raises her eyebrows at Beth. “You’re going to end up with another one if you’re not careful.”

Beth laughs, raises her fingers in a snipping motion. “No danger of that.” She taps Jocelyn’s hand. “Seriously, though, thanks.”

“My pleasure. They make me happy.”

“Are you OK?”

Jocelyn hasn’t told anyone about her Lucas obsession. Even Sam has forgotten about it as a passing sexual crush. She’d love to tell Beth, but there’s the whole Campbell brother connection and, also, she’s not even sure what she’d say:

‘When I met him I knew he had a girlfriend, and then we exchanged a bunch of dirty texts and he backed away because of his girlfriend — who I knew about — and then I decided to go ahead and give him head — which freaked him out because of his girlfriend — and now I haven’t seen him or talked to him for ages, but I can’t stop thinking about him …’

I mean, it’s crazy. It’s crazy even to her, living it.

She shakes her head, smiles at Beth. “I’m OK. Not perfect. Working through some stuff. But fine.”

“You can tell me.”

“Thanks.”

Beth snaps her fingers. Straightens in her seat. “Well, you can at least come to our dinner party.”

“Since when do you have dinner parties?”

“Since it’s our anniversary, and our love is all rekindled, and it’s thanks to you babysitting for us every Saturday, so of course you’re coming.”

“When is it?”

“Tonight.” Beth puts her hand up. “I know what you’re thinking. That obviously we weren’t going to invite you. But it was originally just a bunch of couples we know …”

Jocelyn fake–pouts her lip out as far as she can push it.

“I know, I know! So mean to leave out the singles — although you guys should have more interesting things to do with your time — but, anyway, one or two couples have kind of fallen apart, and we’ve got stray people coming here and there, and so … will you come?”