Chapter Text
I Love You
Robby’s shirt clung to him, soaked through with sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp and wild. But he kept going.
He ran.
And ran.
And ran.
It was his new daily ritual.
His therapist suggested that movement and exercise could help when it felt like the world was closing in. At first, he went out once, then twice, skeptical, testing it out. But he was surprised by how much he liked it, how much it cleared his mind. It became a kind of catharsis, a release. And it was better than sitting alone in his house, while a stream of regrets paraded through his mind like an obnoxious marching band.
Before long, he was out on the trails every chance he got.
That day he started his run later than usual. It was his second day off from a week-long break, and he slept in for once. He had so many vacation hours stacked up that the suits upstairs made him take time off. Normally, he’d find excuses to go into the hospital anyway. But lately, he’d been letting himself just be. Another suggestion from his therapist. She told him he needed to learn that he didn’t always have to be the savior; it was ok to rest.
Now he cherished his days off. He spent time running, wandering. Rediscovering a city he’d lived in for a couple of decades but never really explored.
He found hidden coffee shops. Quiet museums. Restaurants he’d passed a hundred times but never entered. Each discovery made him think of Heather. Would she like this place? Would it be their secret Sunday morning ritual if they were still together?
He missed her. He missed her so much that he felt it deep in his bones like an ache from an old injury that would never fully heal. He knew letting go of regrets was a part of healing. But that one would stay with him for the rest of his life.
He let his deep-seated bullshit ruin the best thing that ever happened to him. Two decades of settling and searching, never satisfied until he found her . At his ripe age, he’d finally met the love of his life.
And he fucked it up.
He should consider himself lucky that she still talked to him. But he often wondered if she would if they didn’t work together. Or would she have let her time with him fade away like a dream you couldn’t quite remember?
She would always be unforgettable to him.
So he ran. Not to forget her. Not to forget what they had. Not to forget what they could have had. But to not fall into an abyss of despair at what could have been.
His sneakers slapped on the pavement as his long strides ran off the trail into a quaint neighborhood. The few people on the street were a blur as he hurried past them. He only stopped when something caught his eye from the window of a vintage shop.
He hesitated, not knowing if he should go inside. He could see his sweaty mess of a reflection look back at him through the glass, but something made him step forward; an undeniable pull. He only hesitated a few seconds before he pushed open the door, a bell dinging signaling his arrival.
A blast of cool air hit him as he surveyed the tiny shop. It was packed with all types of antique items; furniture, photos, clothing. But he zeroed in on one thing in particular he’d seen from the window.
A tea set.
It was white and etched with gold. The cups and saucers were adorned flowers, each delicately embossed in gold. It exuded timeless elegance and quiet craftsmanship. It reminded him of her. She loved tea. She loved unique finds. And if he was truthful with himself, he'd been looking for things to buy every time he hit a new shop. Her birthday was tomorrow.
Ever since she came back into his life, every year he’d wanted to get her something. Something to let her know she was still special to him, that he still thought about her all the time. But he always over thought, not sure it was appropriate or if she’d even want him buying her anything. Still, he couldn’t stop staring at it.
"That's a lovely piece."
Robby startled as an older woman with a warm smile, skin as deep brown as Heather’s and silvery hair stepped up beside him.
He nodded. "Yes."
"Looking at it for someone special?" she asked.
He nodded again, eyes still fixed on the tea set. "Yeah. She's pretty special."
"It’s a one-of-a-kind piece. Not mass-produced. Handmade and hand-painted. I’m sure she’s going to love it."
Robby exhaled. "I hope so."
He finally looked closely at the woman. Her smile was still warm, but her eyes held something deeper, an understanding, empathy. Like she was reading his entire story in just a few moments.
“Tell me your name,” she said.
“Robby.”
“Nice to meet you, I'm Pearl.” She nodded toward the set. "With a gift like this, she’ll know you care. She’ll know you love her."
A hint of a smile touched his lips. "That obvious, huh?"
"Oh, I’ve been around a long time," she said with a chuckle. "Don't let the slow walking fool you. This brain still works just fine. I know the signs of a man longing for a woman. Believe me, I’m not just trying to make a sale. This shop is more of a hobby so I don't go out of mind bored with retirement now that my Earl is gone. I used to see the same look in his eyes that you have now.”
“How long were you and your husband married,” Robby asked.
“Sixty-Two years,” she sighed and shook her head. “Sixty-two years that were more good than not. I wish that type of love for everyone who wants it.”
Robby nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It's a rare find.” He kept to himself that he was an idiot who let a rare love like that slip away from him.
“Mmhm. Now nobody ever accused me of being a white baby with a bow and arrow, but doing my part to make a love connection with the items from my shop does my heart good. The way you’re looking at this set, I can tell you see her in this."
"I do," Robby said. "It’s beautiful, remarkable, just like her. How much does it cost?"
"For you, lover boy?" she smiled sincerely at him. "Only a hundred dollars. I’ll even gift wrap it for free."
The air was cool, but Robby never minded the cold. Heather used to call him her human heater, the way he radiated warmth. He sat on his patio, hoodie on, steam from his strong coffee blowing into his face. He was as still as a statue as he agonized over the wrapped gift sitting on his living room table.
He was trying not to talk himself out of giving her the gift. He didn’t sleep the night before because he tossed and turned thinking of how things could go wrong. Should he wait and give it to her when he returned to work? Drop it off at her apartment himself? Or maybe send it through a delivery service? Would she even open it? Or just let it sit on her kitchen table for months on end?
He sat back in the chair and rubbed both hands down his face “Fuck it, Robby, just do it.”
He grabbed his keys, running shoes, and the gift, then hurried down the street to the delivery service before he lost his nerve. He watched them closely as he made sure they packed the gift with care.
On instinct, he glanced at the flower shop next door and told the clerk to hold on a moment. White roses were her favorite. A whole bouquet may come on too strong so he bought a single rose in a slim glass vase. He told the bored-looking young man to include it in the package.
“You wanna write a message to go with the delivery?” the kid asked.
Robby paused. “Umm…” In all his agonizing, he hadn’t thought about writing her a message.
The kid rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude, I guess not.” He continued to pack the items.
“Wait.” Robby scribbled a quick message on a note card and handed it to the clerk.
Later that night, as he sat on the couch watching a Pirates game, his phone buzzed with a single text.
Heather: Thank you. I love it.
He smiled, genuinely, the kind he didn’t give too often anymore.