Николас Спаркс - The Choice

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“I see,” he said, sounding exactly like her mother.

“Good.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“No.”

“Have I done something to upset you?”

Yes, the little voice answered. You and your damn hip muscles. “No.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked.

“There’s no problem.”

“Then what’s up with the way you’re acting?”

“I’m not acting any way.”

The teeth-baring smile was gone, as was all the friendliness he’d shown earlier. “Yeah, you are. I drop a basket off to welcome you to the neighborhood, I save your dog and stay awake all night to make sure she’s okay, I invite you over to have some fun on my boat today—all this after you screamed at me for no reason, mind you—and now you’re treating me like I have the plague. Since you moved next door, I’ve tried to be nice, but every time I see you, you seem angry at me. I just want to know why.”

“Why?” she parroted.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “Why.”

“Because,” she repeated, knowing she sounded like a sulky fifth-grader. She just couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He studied her face closely. “Because why?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He let her answer settle into the silence.

“Whatever,” he finally said. He turned on his heels, shaking his head as he walked toward the steps. He was already on the grass when Gabby took a step forward.

“Wait!” she called out.

Travis slowed, took another couple of steps, then came to a halt. He turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Yeah?” he said again. “What are you sorry for?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I didn’t expect that you would,” he grunted. When she sensed him getting ready to turn again—a turn that Gabby knew would signal the end of cordial relations between them—she took a step forward, almost against her will.

“I’m sorry for all of it.” To her ears, her own voice sounded strained and tinny. “For the way I’ve been treating you. For the way I’ve made you think I’m not grateful for the things you’ve done.”

“And?”

She felt herself shrink, something that seemed to happen only in his presence.

“And,” she said, her tone softening, “I’ve been wrong.”

He paused, hand on hip. “About what?’

Gee, where should I start? the little voice answered . Maybe I haven’t been wrong. Maybe my intuition has been warning me about something I don’t quite understand but shouldn’t be under-estimated. . . .

“About you,” she said, ignoring the little voice. “And you’re right. I haven’t been treating you the way I should, but to be honest, I’d rather not go into the reasons why.” She forced a smile, one that wasn’t reciprocated. “Would it be possible for us to start over?”

He seemed to mull this over. “I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” he said. “The last thing I need in my life is a crazy neighbor. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I learned a long time ago to call ’em like I see ’em.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Actually, I think I’m being more than fair. But I’ll tell you what—if you’re willing to start over, I’m willing to start over. But only if you’re certain you want that.”

“I am.”

“Okay, then,” he said. He retraced his steps to the deck. “Hi,” he offered, holding out his hand. “My name is Travis Parker, and I want to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

She stared at his hand. After a moment, she took it and said, “I’m Gabby Holland. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“What do you do?

“I’m a physician assistant,” she said, feeling slightly ridiculous. “How about you?’

“I’m a veterinarian,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“Savannah, Georgia,” she answered. “And you?”

“From here,” he said. “Born and raised.”

“Do you like it here?”

“What’s not to like? Beautiful weather, zero traffic.” He paused. “And for the most part, nice neighbors, too.”

“I’ve heard that,” she said. “In fact, I know the vet here in town might even make an emergency house call now and then. Can’t find that in the city.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” He motioned over his shoulder. “Hey, by the way, my friends and I are heading out on the boat today. Would you like to join us?”

She squinted up at him. “I would, but I have to build a pen for the puppies my dog, Molly, had two nights ago. I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”

“Need some help? I’ve got some extra planks of wood and some crates in the garage. It won’t take long.”

She hesitated, then looked up with a smile. “In that case, I’d love to go.”

Travis was as good as his word. He arrived—still half-naked, to her dismay—carrying four long boards beneath his arms. After dropping those off, he jogged back to his garage. He returned with the crates, along with a hammer and a handful of nails.

Though he pretended not to notice the smell, she noticed that he put the pen together far faster than she would have imagined possible.

“You should probably line this area with newspapers. Do you have enough?”

When she nodded, he motioned toward his house again. “I’ve still got a few things to take care of, so I’ll see you in a little while, okay?”

Gabby nodded again, feeling a roiling sensation in her stomach, something akin to nervousness. Which was why, after she’d watched him enter his house and had lined the pen, she found herself standing in the bedroom, evaluating the merits of swimwear. More specifically, whether she should wear her bikini or her one-piece.

There were pros and cons to each. Normally, she would have worn her bikini. She was, after all, twenty-six and single, and even if she wasn’t a supermodel, she was honest enough to admit she liked the way she looked in a bikini. Kevin certainly did—if she even suggested that she wear a one-piece, Kevin would pout until she changed her mind. On the other hand, Kevin wasn’t around, she would be hanging out with a neighbor (guy!), and considering the size of her bikini, she might as well be wearing a bra and panties, none of which would make her feel very comfortable and all of which added up to the one-piece.

Still, her one-piece was sort of old and a little faded from chlorine and sun. Her mother had purchased it for her a few years ago, for afternoons spent at the country club (God forbid she expose herself like a harlot!). It wasn’t a particularly flattering cut, as far as one-pieces went. Instead of a high cut on her thighs, the suit was cut low on the sides, which made her legs look short and stumpy.

She didn’t want her legs to look short and stumpy. On the other hand, did it really matter? Of course not, she thought, while simultaneously thinking, Of course it did.

The one-piece, she decided. At the very least, she wouldn’t give any of them the wrong impression about her. And there were going to be kids on the boat, too. It was better to err on the conservative side than to be a bit too . . . exposed. She reached for the one-piece, and all at once she could hear her mother telling her that she’d made the right decision.

Tossing it back on the bed, she reached for the bikini.

Eight

You invited the new neighbor over, huh?” Stephanie asked. “What’s her name again?”

“Gabby,” Travis answered, pulling the boat closer to the dock. “She should be here any minute.” The rope tightened and then slackened as the boat was maneuvered into place. They’d just lowered it into the water and were tying it up to the dock to load the coolers.