Xavier
"It's totally reasonable to miss someone so much it hurts, right?" I asked Georgia.
"When you haven't seen him for five days?" She held her hand in the air, then waved it side to side. "Kind of? Maybe I'm the wrong person to ask. Even when I'm head over heels, I like lots of Georgia time."
We were sitting on benches that faced each other in the garden, trying to enjoy the afternoon, even though the dropping temperature meant there were more and more leaves on the ground every day. I zipped up my light flannel jacket, then sighed up toward the sky. "Maybe it's good he has to work all the time," I said. "It helps me not get too obsessed with him."
Georgia chuckled. "You're not too obsessed? Sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure this was the first time I've ever gotten you to dish about a date without having to poke and pry for half an hour first."
I laughed and kicked some of the leaves across the ground. "I mean, you asked why I was returning the baseball gloves."
She laughed, holding her hands in the air. "Like I said, as long as the equipment wasn't used, I always give a refund. Why should it matter what it wasn't used for?"
I caught her eye, then rubbed my palms across my pants. "Really, though," I asked, "you don't think I'm being silly? I mean, he's going to move back to New York. He's probably headed there in a car right now, in fact. He's the kind to plan ahead and avoid the Friday evening traffic."
"Yes, he's very good at everything," Georgia teased. "But to answer your question, no, I don't think you're being silly. Finding someone you connect with is rare, and finding someone who is compatible with your very specific kinks is even rarer. Your lives might have to diverge next summer, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't enjoy the time you do have. Hell, if anything, it means you should enjoy it more."
I brightened up. It sounded so simple when she said it that way.
I just wished she would be around later, when I inevitably started freaking out about how hot Dominick was again.
"Thanks for saying that," I said. "It helps. Anyway, how's the bidding war for the bar going? I haven't stopped to ask you about your week."
Georgia shrugged, and the wind went through the tree beside the park, making the shadow across her waver. "I put in a new bid, more than I probably should pay. The bank is giving me a good interest rate, at least. The previous owner is taking forever to decide, though. And apparently, that corporation angling for the property has deep pockets."
"If you lose the bid, maybe you could open your own bar, somewhere else? You might even be able to find a location you like better."
"Maybe. It's not like my dream is to own a bar, though. It's to own that bar."
"Your dream?"
Georgia laughed. "My latest of many."
Suddenly, a large beeping noise cut through the garden, startling both of us. Usually, the plants were full enough that you couldn't see to the street, but with the seasonal plants fading and shrinking for the year and fewer perennials coming back, I only had to stand up to get a look above the vine-wrapped fence. Creeping down the street was a white van, followed by a large truck, which itself was pulling something that looked like a gigantically oversized tiller.
"Oh crap," Georgia muttered. "What now?"
I stood there, my mouth hanging slack, while the row of machines pulled up to the street outside the garden. Slowly, a crew emerged from the vehicles with tools in hand. A woman in her thirties jumped from the van in front and started glancing between a clipboard in her hand and the garden.
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Georgia and I hurried to the entrance as another crisp breeze blew down the street. "Excuse me?" I said. "Can I ask what you're doing here?"
"City project," the woman said flatly, still glancing at her clipboard. She was wearing the same gray coveralls as everyone else, but from the way she held herself, I was pretty sure she was the boss. "We're starting some renovations today."
"Hold on a minute," Georgia said, stepping forward. "What renovations?"
"Bus stop," the woman said. "And eventually some solar infrastructure. I think a landscaping crew is coming to scout later in the week. Do you live around here?"
"We own businesses across the street," I said quickly. "But this project shouldn't start for a while. We're part of the Small Business Association, and we've been in talks with the city..."
"Kind of," Georgia muttered.
The woman raised an eyebrow her way, but when Georgia didn't continue, she just sighed and turned back to her clipboard. "Well, this project was approved and finalized two weeks ago. I'm sorry if it's going to be an inconvenience for your businesses, but we've got a tight schedule to finish before the winter sets in."
My head start spinning as I stared at the giant tiller. With sharp metal teeth and an oversized engine, I knew it would destroy the garden in no time. And considering how large the crew was, I had no doubt they meant business.
"Weeks ago?" Georgia asked. She turned to me, narrowing her eyes and frowning. "I thought your boyfriend was going to take care of this."
"He's not my boyfriend," I objected weakly, although I knew that wasn't the point.
Before I could say another word, Arty and Alice came hustling down the street. Alice still had the apron she wore at the diner hanging off her shoulders, and Arty was running his hand through his beard anxiously.
"What is the story here?" Alice demanded. "Is this what it looks like?"
"I'm afraid so," Georgia answered, glaring at the line of vehicles.
Alice pointed a finger right at me. "I just knew it! You're a sweet kid, Xavier, you really are, but you can't go thinking with your heart instead of your head! Those city government types don't care about you or your store. They just care about their projects." She turned to the woman leading the crew and dropped her voice. "And you! You absolutely cannot start this racket, not now. This weekend is supposed to be warm and sunny, and I fully intended a busy crowd for the deck at my café."
Arty crossed his arms over his flannel shirt, stepping forward. "Don't go acting like you run the neighborhood, Alice! Some of us are eager for this project to start."
The woman in charge of the crew held her hands in the air. "Hold on a minute," she said. "I don't take my orders from any of you, so you'd do yourselves a favor to stop bossing me around. If you have a complaint, reach out through the proper channels."
"Then what?" I said, my voice squeaking. "You'll already have destroyed the garden by the time we make contact."
The woman frowned, then glanced down at her clipboard. "We're really just supposed to start preparations today..." She snapped her eyes back up to me. "But like I said, it's a bit too late for all of this. We'll start digging tomorrow morning at the latest, and I'm not putting my crew and our contract on the line just because some nervous young man is having a panic about it."
I opened my mouth to argue some more, but before I could, Georgia grabbed my hand. "Save it," she said under her breath. "And go call Dominick. If he's half as good as you think he is, he'll be able to do something."
I looked across the scene, my eyes darting between the bored crew and the argument that was unfolding between Arty and Alice. It felt like absolute chaos had driven up and parked itself right in front of the garden, and all I could do was stand there with my jaw hanging slack and my gut twisting itself into a knot.
"Dominick," I said, snapping out of it. "Right."
I hurried away from the scene and pulled my phone from my pocket, punching a few buttons and praying he would answer. After only a single ring, I heard his voice.
"Xavier," he said warmly. "I just boarded my flight. What's happening? I only have a minute."
Just hearing his voice made me feel better, like his arms were wrapping around me and his touch was taking the nervous tremor out of my body. "A crew showed up to start construction on the bus stop," I said quickly. "They're going to tear up the garden."
"Already?" he sounded surprised. "They're not supposed to start any projects until they get final approval from my office."
"Should I tell them that?"
"No, it won't do you any good," he said. "These things need to come from the top down." I heard a man's voice in the background, and a shuffling sound filled the phone. "I'm sorry, I'll just be a minute," Dominick said to someone on the plane.
"What should I do, then?" I asked, anxiety rising in my voice again.
"I'm sorry this wasn't taken care of," Dominick answered quickly. "But I have to go. It's time for takeoff." His voice changed, and the sound got muffled as he turned away from the phone. "Yes, I'm getting off now."
"Can I do anything?"
"I'll get on the plane's wifi after takeover," he said. "I'm sorry, Xavier. I'll do what I can!"
The line went dead. I stood on the sidewalk, my phone hanging loosely from my hand. When I looked back over to the scene, Alice and Arty were still deep in their argument, and a few members of the crew were making themselves busy around the garden, taking measurements and pictures.
I wanted to run into the candy shop and start shoveling treats down my throat. More than that, I wanted my dad to be around. He would know what to do. He'd probably charm the whole crew, get them to take the weekend off, and send them home with a candy gift basket, too. But all I could think to do was to call a man who was leaving town.
I just didn't understand. Dominick said he would take care of things. And he seemed to really try, too. But maybe his life was just too big. Maybe I was fooling myself in thinking he had space for me and my problems. He was running a citywide project, after all, and still handling business back in New York. How important could one little bus stop be to him, really?
And with defeat washing over my body, I couldn't help but ask the other question, the one I had been trying to avoid since he took me to the gala.
How important could a Denver boy be, to a man who had the whole world in his grasp?
Because Dominick was gone, and I could no longer deny it—soon enough, he would be gone again.
