Chapter Seven: Almost Normal
1329 Words
For the next two weeks, Gavin kept every promise that didn’t require him to leave his wife.
He called when he said he would.
He brought coffee to my apartment before my morning classes and waited outside when he couldn’t come upstairs. He sent photographs of couches he hated and kitchen tables he thought would fit beside the apartment window.
He even created a shared list titled **Our Place**.
Curtains.
Plates.
A coffee maker.
A bed neither of us had chosen yet.
Each small thing made the future feel less imaginary.
I stopped asking whether he had spoken to Natalie.
Six weeks had become five. There was still time.
On Friday evening, Gavin picked me up after work and drove me to a small Italian restaurant across town. It wasn’t expensive or elegant, but it had candles on the tables and paper covering the tablecloths so customers could draw while they waited.
For once, we weren’t in a motel.
We weren’t hidden inside my apartment with the curtains closed.
Gavin sat across from me in a dark sweater, smiling as I attempted to draw the apartment from memory.
“That’s supposed to be a couch?” he asked.
“It’s modern.”
“It has six legs.”
“Extra support.”
“And why is the television larger than the wall?”
“Because apparently that’s the only thing you care about.”
He took the crayon from my hand and added a stick figure beside the couch.
It had wild hair and an angry expression.
“Is that me?”
“That’s you when I suggest buying matching dishes.”
“I already told you I have dishes.”
“You have two plates.”
“They match.”
“They’re both white. That doesn’t make them a set.”
I smiled despite myself.
The restaurant was crowded enough that no one paid attention to us. Gavin’s wedding ring was missing, tucked away somewhere I didn’t ask about.
I told myself tonight wasn’t about that.
It was about pasta and bad drawings and the way his foot rested beside mine beneath the table.
“What were you like at my age?” I asked.
“Better-looking.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I kicked him lightly.
Gavin laughed and leaned back.
“At twenty-one, I thought I knew everything. I spent most of my money on my truck and the rest on beer.”
“That sounds irresponsible.”
“It was.”
“Did you always want to be a firefighter?”
“Since I was a kid.”
“Why?”
His smile changed.
“My neighbor’s house caught fire when I was ten. The firefighters got everyone out, including their dog. After that, I thought they were the closest thing to superheroes.”
“Do you still think that?”
“No.” He looked down at the table. “Now I know superheroes don’t spend half their shift arguing about who stole their yogurt.”
I laughed.
Gavin reached across the table and took my hand.
“Come by tomorrow.”
“To the station?”
“There’s a charity car wash. Families come by, people bring food. It’ll be busy enough that no one will pay attention.”
The happiness I felt was quickly followed by caution.
“Will Cole be there?”
“Probably.”
“Then he’ll pay attention.”
“Let him.”
I studied his face.
The first time I had visited the station, Gavin had sent me to the truck.
Now he was inviting me back.
“Who will I be?”
His thumb stopped moving over my hand.
“What do you mean?”
“If someone asks who I am.”
“A friend.”
The answer stung, even though it was the only one he could give.
Gavin saw it.
“Just for now.”
Five more weeks.
I nodded.
“All right.”
---
The next afternoon, the firehouse parking lot was filled with cars, folding tables, and children running through soap bubbles.
Two firefighters sprayed water over a line of vehicles while another collected donations near the entrance. Music played from a speaker beside the bay.
Gavin met me at the sidewalk.
He wore a station T-shirt and wet jeans, his hair pushed away from his forehead. He looked younger like that. Less like the man who knew exactly what to say and more like someone I might have met under ordinary circumstances.
“You came.”
“You invited me.”
“I wasn’t sure you would.”
He kissed my cheek quickly before anyone could notice.
That tiny public touch felt more intimate than anything we had done in private.
Gavin introduced me to a few people without explanations.
“This is Harper.”
No one asked more.
A broad firefighter named Marcus handed me a sponge and pointed toward an SUV covered in foam.
“Mercer said you volunteered.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“Too late.”
Gavin grinned and walked away before I could protest.
For almost an hour, I forgot to be uncomfortable.
I helped wash cars, laughed when Marcus soaked Gavin with the hose, and ate half a hamburger standing beside the engine.
No one treated me like a secret.
No one except Cole.
He stayed mostly near the donation table, speaking to families and carrying boxes of supplies into the station. He didn’t confront me or tell me to leave.
But every time his gaze landed on Gavin and me, his expression closed.
Near the end of the afternoon, I carried a tray of empty cups toward the kitchen. Cole came through the doorway at the same time, forcing both of us to stop.
“I’m not in your way,” I said before he could speak.
“I didn’t say you were.”
His tone was tired rather than hostile.
I moved aside.
He did too.
For one awkward second, neither of us passed.
“You can go,” I said.
“So can you.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his eyes dropped to the apartment key hanging from the thin chain around my neck.
Gavin had given it back to the manager, but I had bought a similar blank key and started wearing it as a private joke between us.
Cole’s expression sharpened.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“Looks like something.”
“It isn’t your business.”
He looked toward the bay, where Gavin was talking to Marcus.
Then back at me.
“You planning a future?”
The contempt was quieter this time.
I closed my fingers around the key.
“Yes.”
Cole stared at me for a moment.
I waited for him to tell me I was foolish.
Instead, he stepped out of the doorway.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
It was a lie.
But it was one I believed when I said it.
Before Cole could answer, the station alarm sounded.
Everything changed instantly.
The music stopped.
Firefighters abandoned cups, food, and conversations as they ran toward their gear.
Gavin crossed the bay, pulling on his jacket.
He found me in the confusion.
“I have to go.”
“I know.”
He kissed my forehead without looking to see who was watching.
Then he climbed onto the engine.
Cole took the seat across from him.
As the doors began to close, his eyes met mine through the window.
For once, there was no judgment in them.
Only something serious enough to make me hold the key tighter.
The engine pulled into the street, siren rising as it disappeared.
I stood among the abandoned tables and dripping cars, watching the empty road.
This was Gavin’s life.
Danger arrived without warning.
And somehow, until that moment, I had never truly considered that one day he might not come back.
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