It’s About Time

A hush descends across this tiny island in September. You can almost hear my fellow year round residents breathe a collective sigh of relief, as the ferries carry away the last of the summer vacationers. 

With another successful tourist season under our belts, we welcome with open arms the return to the slow rhythm of island life. 

The long golden days of Indian summer have left, ushering in the crisp days of fall. It's the best time of year in my most favorite of all places, my home, Nantucket Island, in all of its autumnal splendor. 

I flip the sign in my bookshop window to close and settle behind the counter with a hot cup of tea as the last customer makes their final selection. 

I catch Noah looking at me. 

“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at my best friend who also does double duty as my fellow co-owner.

He smiles, the lines around his dark eyes crinkle. “You look really nice today. I like the sweater.”

“It's your sweater. I stole it from you.”

“I know,” he winks.

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my tea. “That's a reverse complement.”

“Is it?”

I ignore the bait and instead check our website. When it had become clear that owning a bookshop was unsustainable where the tourist season is only three months long, we diversified. We also now run a successful online business specializing in antiquated and out of print books. 

“Noah?”

My eyes are pulled away from my computer screen and land on Sadie, an auburn haired bombshell with perfect complexion and legs up to her neck.

“Yes?” Noah responds absentmindedly, ringing up her purchase of a cheesy romance novel, of course. 

“A bunch of us are going down to Murtaugh’s to have a few drinks. Will you be there?” 

“Yeah, I'll probably drop in.” He smiles brushing his dark hair back. 

“Good, well I guess I'll see you then.” She flashes a blinding white smile as she accepts her bag and receipt. 

“See you then.” He nods and watches her sashay out of the store. 

Once the door closes, I snort. “She's going to throw a hip out of joint with that ridiculous walk of hers.”

“Me-ow.” 

“I'm merely concerned for her orthopedic health.”

“MmHmm. Come on, let's close up and walk over to Murtaugh’s.”

“Together? What would Sadie think?” I smirk.

“Since when did you start caring about what Sadie thinks?”

I feel the space between my eyebrows crease. “I don't.” 

“Okay,” he practically sings and gives me a tight lipped smile while raising his eyebrows. 

----

Murtaugh’s, a pub that prides itself in serving up authentic Irish fare and Guinness by the pint, is less than a mile walk from the shop. 

Tonight the mood is particularly festive. Amongst its patrons are locals and weekenders all in a celebratory mood.

We make our way through the crowd and are waved towards the back by our friend Miranda. We join our friends at a set of tables by the fireplace and Noah orders us each a pint and chicken strips. 

As the evening progresses and more pints are consumed, the conversations get more lively. Our group begins to split off, some to play pool, others darts.

I follow Miranda to the pool tables and take a seat next to her. Friendly wagers are made between a few of the guys, including Noah and her boyfriend. 

I watch with interest as Noah’s tall frame leans over the table and how the muscles in his right arm flex as he makes his shot. 

I suddenly feel flushed, I shouldn't have had that second pint. I walk to the bar, order an ice water and let the cold liquid slide down my throat.

When I return, I find Sadie talking to Noah. Batting her inch long eyelash extensions at him, she laughs a bit too excessively and touches his arm. 

Noah’s eyes catch mine and I look away quickly. 

Feeling like I've been caught out, I turn my attention back to Miranda. “So who won?” 

She regards me with a long side eye and smiles. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

“What?” I scoff. “No!” I protest and laugh, a bit too loudly. I sound as awkward as I suddenly feel. 

“You sure? I mean it's only natural. You two do work together and you both live-”

“-in separate apartments.” I interject. 

“Above the same bookshop, you both share the same walls. I mean it's only-”

“Tatum?” 

I look up to find the rugged face of Gabe. A stocky man in his mid thirties. He has the look of a ship's captain, like the ones whose photos hang on the wall at the whaling museum. 

“Yes?” I smile, welcoming the interruption. 

He runs a calloused hand through his ash blonde hair. “I was wondering if you'd like to dance?”

I glance over at Noah, whose arm has now become a permanent resting spot for Sadie’s well manicured hand. 

“I’d love to!” 

He places his hand on my upper back and steers me to the dance floor. 

Thankfully it's a fast number and Gabe proves to be a good dancer. My forced smile turns genuine as he spins me around. Soon the song changes into Kenny Loggins’ Footloose and the dance floor goes wild. The energy is infectious and we begin singing along. He exaggerates a few moves and I find myself laughing. After a big flourish at the end we cheer and clap with everyone else.

“We’re going to slow it down now,” the DJ’s voice informs as people begin to couple. I thank him for the dances and turn to walk away. 

“Just one more?” He asks. 

I smile and nod my head. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me close to him, taking my hand in his. Given the fact that we are almost the same height, being this close is proving a bit uncomfortable. My hand rests on his shoulder, and he places his warm, sweaty, stubbled cheek against mine. My fun meter has just bottomed out. 

I begin to mentally formulate a polite excuse as Adele’s voice pours out of the speakers. Determined to not have one of my favorite songs contaminated in the future by the memory of this dance, I begin to push away. 

Just then a firm finger taps Gabe’s shoulder. “May I cut in?” Noah’s familiar deep voice exonerates me. 

“Um, sure.” He looks up at him, his steel blue eyes narrow as he releases me with a sharp puff of breath from his nose, conveying his displeasure at the intrusion. He then grumbles something under his breath and disappears into the crowd. 

“May I?” 

Grateful, I take a deep breath and nod. 

He glides his hand to the middle of my back and wraps his large hand around mine and we begin to sway.

My senses seem to heighten and I become aware of the firmness of his back beneath his cotton shirt under my hand. How his cologne carries notes of sandalwood and leather. The rise and fall of his chest. How his warm breath puffs against my cheek as he begins to whisper the lyrics of the song into my ear.

My breath hitches in my throat and tears spring to my eyes, catching me off guard. 

My heart feels like it's fracturing. With each word I begin to grow angry because they are hollow, they don't carry the weight I desperately wish they did. 

I push away from him, through the crowd, out the door and onto the street. 

My chest feels tight like it's going to explode. My vision swims through tears as I head down Orange Street and begin to run. Wanting nothing more than to leave behind this sudden emotion, complicated thoughts and unreturned feelings. 

Before I can insert the key into the lock of the shop, I hear the sound of rapid footfalls along the cobblestone sidewalk. Noah is running towards me. 

Like a child, I want to hide. I jam the key into the lock, turning it before he can reach me. 

“Tatum!”

I bolt across the darkened shop, just as his hand wraps around my waist.

“You can't outrun this.” He says pressing my back to him, holding me in place. 

I relax against his chest, as we both try to catch our breath. He wraps his other arm around me, enveloping me into a hug. 

“We have to talk about what happened back there.”

“I know,” I concede. 

He releases me and I turn around to face him. The lamp light from the street washes in through the windows and pools on the wooden floor of the shop.

“I didn't like you dancing with Gabe and I especially didn't like it that you seemed to be enjoying yourself with him.” 

“Well I was at the beginning. We were having fun.”

“With Gabe? Is that was does it for you then?”

“Don't be ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous? I'm not the one that just ran a seven minute mile!”

“Don't be mean!”

“Mean? I had to watch as he pressed himself against you, it took every ounce of restraint I had to not kick his ass. Then running out on me when I was trying to-”

“I know, you were trying to do me a favor.”

He shakes his head. “Do you a favor?”

The silence swells between us. Noah begins pacing back and forth across the floor. He stops abruptly and looks at me. 

“Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” I blurt and then steel myself for the coming rejection. 

He places his hand on his chest and releases a breath. His face is in shadow so I can't make out his expression.

My heart sinks. “It's okay,” my voice cracks. “We can be just friends.”

“I don't want to be just friends. I don't know when it happened. But, you are the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about at night. You are in every song that I hear and you're in every book that I read. Here I'll prove it!”

He crosses over to the chair behind the counter, switches on the lamp and pulls from his backpack the book Beloved by Toni Morrison. Turning to a dog eared page, he reads: 

“She is a friend of mine. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.”

He then picks up the book Dangerous Liaisons off of the counter, flipping through the pages. 

“I read this last week, ‘I was in love, for the first time in my life. I knew it was hopeless, but that didn't matter to me. And it's not that I want to have you. All I want is to deserve you. Tell me what to do.’ ”

He tosses the book back on the counter and stands in front of me. “I’m in love with you.”

Brushing the tears from my face, he places his hand on the side of my cheek and caresses my lips with his thumb. “I'm going to kiss you now,” he chuckles.

I laugh, “It's about time.”

“Yes it is,” he agrees. 

Then his lips meet mine.