Springs Bookshop

It’s cold and early morning when I walk down the driveway to my mailbox. “Don’t slip on ice” I say to myself the entire way down the drive. Steamboat Springs is having an exceptionally icy winter this year. I open the mailbox and see only a single folded piece of beige card stock paper, held closed by a thin piece of black velvet ribbon. Too intrigued to wait until I’m back in the warmth of my home, I unfold the small paper. 

    ‘Springs Bookshop. Today, 5 o’clock.’

I’m confident I know who it’s from, but I’m not confident I know how to feel about it. 

 It’s been five years since Roman Matthews left for college in Oregon. It’s also been five years since I’ve spoken to him. We were best friends from the age of ten all the way through high school, so when he didn’t tell me he was going away to college in Oregon until seven days before he had to leave, I was angry, but mostly my feelings were hurt. When I told him I didn’t want to be friends with someone who can keep information like that a secret for so long and then just expect me to be okay with it in such a short time, I didn’t think our silence would last so long. After two weeks had gone by without hearing from him, I convinced myself he didn’t want to be friends anymore either and before I knew it a year had gone by. Then another, and another and well, here we are now. I stuff the letter into the pocket of my sweat pants and make the dangerous trek back up my driveway. I’ll have to think about this later, for now I need to get to work. 

The fluorescent lights inside Sweet Something’s buzz and flicker awake. I opened the home-style bakery of my dreams three years ago. It’s been a long journey, but I’ve never been more proud of anything. I'm starting to fill the display cases when the bell on the door chimes, letting me know Genesis has just walked in to start her shift. Gen and I have also been friends since we were young, and she’s been a part of the bakery since the beginning stages of planning, she’s the sister I never had. 

    “Gen, you don’t always have to be thirty minutes early you know” I say to her without looking up, focusing on placing gooey cinnamon rolls perfectly inside the glass doors. I see her curly strawberry blonde hair flash by like a floating campfire as she walks in front of me and behind the counter. 

    “And skip on our early morning chit chat? No way, coffee or hot chocolate this morning?” She asks

     “Coffee. Definitely coffee this morning” I answer. I close the display cases and stand to face her. 

    “Oh no. You have that look on your face. What happened?” She asks concerningly. “Did the walk-in cooler go out again? Is shipment delayed?” 

    “No, no. Nothing like that.” 

    “Well don’t leave me hanging! Spill” she hands me a coffee mug and sits on the gold stool, looking up at me impatiently. 

    “Remember Roman Matthew’s from high school?”

    “You mean your ex best friend that didn’t tell you he was moving over a thousand miles away and then never spoke to you again and avoided you every time he came home? Yes I remember that guy.” She rolls her eyes slightly, probably thinking I wouldn’t notice. 

    “I think he left me a letter in my mailbox last night.”

    “Oh my gosh. This is so interesting, what did it say?” She stands quickly and walks a half circle around me, making me turn around to face her again. I hand her the piece of paper. 

     “That’s it? After five years? That’s all he has to say?” Her voice growing louder and angrier with each question. She circles back to the stool and plops down, forcing me turn around again. I huff at her inability to sit still. 

    “Why the bookshop?” 

    “We used to go every Wednesday at five. It was our way of making sure we didn’t lose touch while we navigated our own ways through high school.” I shrug. 

    “Wait, that’s actually so cute. You have to go.” I’m always amazed at Gen’s ability to switch moods and opinions so quickly. 

    “I’m not sure I want to. It’s been so long. I don’t feel like I know him anymore, I wouldn’t know what to say and I need to close the shop” 

    “You really don’t know him anymore. Think of it as meeting someone new. I’ve decided for you. You’re going to the bookshop. You’re going to go home early and make yourself look pretty. Give me your keys, I will close for you.” 

    “Okay. Thirty minutes is up. The morning rush is going to start any minute now” I say in an attempt to switch gears, hoping she’ll drop the subject. The morning through lunch hours go by quickly. It’s 3:00pm when Gen comes to the back to remind me I have plans this evening. I’ve been back here all day perfecting a maple chai cookie recipe that I’ll use over Christmas. I succumb to her efforts and give her the key before I make my way to the door. 

    “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.” I tell her sternly. 

    “I won’t need anything. But if I do, I promise I’ll call” she reassures me. 

I stop and stare at the bookshop doors before I go inside, nervous to meet the older version of Roman Matthews. I’m wearing light blue jeans, a dark green crewneck and a black vest with high top converse. I’ve taken more time than usual on my hair and makeup. I look casual, but made up at the same time. Gen definitely got in my head, I didn’t need to try this hard, I hope he doesn’t notice. I step into the bookshop and smell the familiar paper books. It hasn’t changed here, the dark blue wallpaper and various shades of orange upholstery is still just as pleasing to the eye now at twenty-four as it was to me in high school — I would have done the bakery like this if I could. 

My heart is pounding as I walk around looking for Roman, I’d forgotten how large this shop is. Every aisle I turn down I’m both terrified and excited to see if he’ll be there, but so far I’ve only seen a mom and daughter looking for children’s books and an older man in the history section. 

   “Hey, Della” the sound of his familiar yet mature voice coming from behind stops me in my tracks. I spin around to look at him, my heartbeat now making its way into my ears. He’s taller, by a lot. His golden skin looks soft and smooth and his teeth are straight and pearly white. His hair is so black it looks wet and his brown eyes look like honey mixed with melted light brown sugar— he’s handsome. I never thought that about him before. 

    “Hi,” I say shakily. I clear my throat trying to rid the nerves. “Roman, what are you doing?” I curse at myself in my head. What are you doing? Really? We’re obviously here for the same reason. I inhale a big breath, embarrassed at how poorly I’m hiding my nervousness. I feel my cheeks heat up, I'm grateful now that I put on some blush. He chuckles, and it sounds so sweet. It nearly makes me melt right where I’m standing. Get it together, Dell! I yell at myself in head again. He’s holding a small, square pink box that has the letters ‘SS’ on it and I can’t hold back my smile. He hands me the box and I open it carefully, revealing a pale yellow cupcake with a sugared lemon slice on top. A single green polka dot candle sticks straight up from the middle. 

   “Happy birthday” he says softly, with an even softer smile to go with it. 

   “I’m really happy you came.” Roman says shyly. I think he’s just as nervous as I am and that eases my mind a bit. 

We sit down on the floor like we used to. I smile at him, holding my cupcake. Does he know it came from my bakery? I wonder if Gen saw him. I shoo the thoughts away, wanting to be present in the moment. 

    “So.. how have you been, how was college?” 

    “It was good. Hard, had too much fun here and there. You know” 

I actually don’t know, I didn’t go to college. I took a gap year and then started planning the bakery, but I’ve seen all the movies and read all the books. I’m sure I can imagine. 

    “That’s good though, isn’t that one of the many experiences of college”

    “I guess so, yeah. I don’t regret the parties. I have some good memories to look back on” he laughs at whatever memory is playing in his head at the moment. 

    “So uh, you’re back?” I ask unsure, not knowing what to say next. 

    “Yeah I’m back. I miss home.” He answers with a touch of sadness in his voice. “I’m in the process of opening a business here. It’s taken a lot longer than I expected.” He continues, “The old camp store on the corner of Silver Canoe Way will be mine in the next month or two.”  

    “You’re the one who’s taking over that building?” I laugh, “a lot of the older locals are kind of furious about that” I tease him. 

    “It’s Steamboat Springs, there’s about six other stores to get camping gear from” he leans his head back against the bookshelf with a soft thump. I sense frustration in his expression and immediately regret teasing him about it. 

    “I know. I'm just teasing” I smile again at him trying to get his mood back on track “What are you doing with it, anyway?” 

     “Children’s recreation” he answers confidently. 

    “Roman, that’s really great.” I say with too much admiration in my voice. I can’t get caught up in the moment and forget about our five years of silence. At 6:30pm the automated announcement system lets us know the bookshop will be closing in thirty minutes. We stand up to make our way to the front. 

 It looks and feels like it’s going to snow when we step outside and make our way to my Jeep. I press the unlock button on my key fob and he opens the driver door for me to climb inside. 

    “I really want to continue our conversation. There’s still so much I want to say. Can we meet tomorrow?” 

    “Sure,” I answer blankly, “let’s meet at my bakery.” 

    “You let me gift you a cupcake from your very own bakery and you didn’t even tell me? That’s cruel, Dell” he jokes. The way he says my name is music to my ears and my cheeks flush again without my permission. 

    “I thought it was fun.” I joke back with a genuine smile. “See you tomorrow.” 

The next morning Gen is waiting for me outside the bakery door at 5:00am sharp. My prediction was right, the fresh blanket of white snow sparkles under the yellow street light. 

    “Why didn't you go inside? It’s freezing out here. Have you been waiting long?” 

    “Nope, just got here. I didn’t want anyone to think I was breaking in.” 

    “Gen you literally have the key and there is no one else out here. The sun isn’t even up yet” I laugh as we step inside together. 

   “Hot chocolate or coffee?” She asks as always. We glance at each other, “hot chocolate” we say at the same time and chortle. 

   “Please don’t make me wait. What happened? He stopped by here not long after you left. That is a different Roman than I remember” Gen raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me. 

   “We just talked. it was good, I think” I pause to place two stools right in front of the large rack oven and turn it on. We’ll warm up in no time sitting here. “It was just small talk, though. He’s going to meet me here later so we can talk more. I’m sure it’ll be more about how we left things.” I give Gen two thumbs up and a sarcastic smile. 

   “It’ll be fine,” she says “it needs to happen. The sooner you guys talk the sooner it’ll be over with.” She’s right, but I’m still not looking forward to it. Especially after how well last night went. Seeing him again made me realize I have feelings for him, I think a part of me always has. I put my apron on and get to work, Gen takes her usual spot at the front counter. 

Roman comes by a few hours later and takes a seat at the corner table, he uses his fingers as drum sticks and taps a beat on the table while he waits for me. I sit across from him and set two plates of cookies in front of him. 

    “Try these and tell me which one is better.” I demand. He takes a bite of the first one, then the second. 

   “Oh my — Dell, these are the best cookies I’ve ever tasted. What flavor is this?” 

   “Thank you, I’m trying to determine which maple chai recipe is better. It’s going to be my limited Christmas flavor this year. So which one?” I demand an answer again. 

   “They taste the same.” 

    “Ugh don’t be such a guy. Try them again” I roll my eyes playfully and he takes another bite of each, thinking about his answer longer this time. 

    “The second one.” 

    “Thank you,” I say sweetly, “that one has black pepper in the chai tea mixture.”

    “You’re scary when you’re at work.” He banters. 

    “Give me ten minutes and then we can go” I say over my shoulder as I walk back to the kitchen, smiling to myself. 

Roman walks us back to the bookshop, he goes to the front desk instead of heading straight to the stairs for our usual— our old spot. 

    “Roman, how wonderful it is to see you back in here, what can I do for you?” Mr. Orison asks from behind his computer. Roman hands the sweet old man a yellow sticky note with two book titles. After a couple of minutes looking at his computer Mr. Orison writes down a location and hands the sticky note back to Roman. We wander the book shop looking for the correct aisle in silence. Roman’s hand brushes mine and electricity passes through me at the touch. I can’t stand the silence anymore. I need to be honest with him. 

    “Roman,” I clear my throat, “I —

    “No please, let me go first” he interrupts. “Della, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Oregon. I was afraid to tell you, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was eighteen and dumb. I’m sorry that I never reached out again afterwards. I’m sorry that I avoided you every time I was home for the holidays. Truth is, I wasn’t sure you even wanted to hear from me. I knew I hurt you and ruined our friendship. Then as the years went by I figured you had forgotten about me and moved on with your life, but I never forgot about you. I’m so sorry, Della. Please forgive me. I need you in my life.” 

I swallow the lump in my throat and curse at the stinging behind my eyes. I will not cry. I tell myself twice before allowing myself to speak. 

   “I’m sorry, too,” I whisper. “I should have chosen my words better that day you told me. I was hurt, I didn’t mean that I didn’t what I had said and I’m sorry that I never picked up the phone either.” A single tear betrays me and falls down my cheek. “I miss you.” 

   “Do you want to be friends now?” He asks with fear in his voice. 

Be honest, the voice in my head demands. 

    “I want to be more than friends, Roman. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you put that letter in my mailbox.” Tears are rolling down both cheeks now, but I don’t care. He wants this, too— I can feel it. “I never stopped thinking about you. Never stopped wishing you were here. Never stopped wondering when you’d come home to me.” 

Roman pulls me into him and holds me against his chest before lifting my chin to look up at him. He brushes my tears away with his thumbs and plants a soft kiss on the tip of my nose and embraces me tightly again. 

    “I’ve always loved you, Della” 

    “I’ve always loved you, too” 

Exactly three years later I walk down the driveway in the early morning cold to check the mail. Inside is a single piece of card stock paper, held closed with a thin piece of velvet black ribbon. I unfold the paper

‘Springs Bookshop. Today, 5 o’clock. Marry me?’