Had they not been out of everything, including bread and milk, Kaitlyn would have done her shopping in the middle of the week, never on a Saturday when the store was crowded with people. But with the pantry in its current condition, neither of them could have so much as a PB&J. Now that she thought of it, they were out of peanut butter. And jelly. The shopping trip had to happen then or it would be yet another night of takeout.
Not that takeout was always a bad thing, but after a while even that got old. And they were both missing homemade food. She missed cooking it as much as he missed eating it.
Twenty years of marriage and three children with seemingly unending appetites had always supplied her with the motivation to try new foods and styles of cooking that takeout food could never match.
Resigned to a Saturday grocery run, reusable bags in hand, she went to go buy what she used to called “real food” to eat for the week. Since it was only the two of them at home now, grocery shopping was an easier chore than it used to be. With all those mouths to feed, Kaitlyn would often fill up her shopping cart to the point of overflowing and still have to make an additional trip or two during the week to keep up with all those hungry boys. A wistful smile crept onto her face as she recalled those days. “You people are going to eat this town out of all its food!” she would tease them as they piled their plates with seconds. Sometimes thirds.
Her trip began in the cereal and cookie aisle, the scene of many an argument when the boys were small. All the food she didn’t want them to eat sat directly in their line of sight, each box more brightly colored than the last. The cartoon characters added to the constant temptation they faced. Even after she hurried them to the far end she would have at least one little boy pleading for a box of Frosted Flakes or a pack of Oreos.
As she stood across from the adult cereals in their subdued packaging, in pale shades of brown and orange, she waited for the older woman in front of her to make a decision. Eventually Kaitlyn pulled down a couple of boxes of Special K and dropped them in the back of the cart. As she continued on, she plucked a package of Oreos from the shelf, tossed it in next to the cereal.
She continued up and down the aisles, waiting her turn to reach things, adding them to her cart in turn.
After stopping in front of the refrigerated shelves that ran the length of the back of the store, she looked over her list once more, crossed off things she had already located, debated whether she bought enough eggs or too much bread. She lifted her head, contemplating whether to go back for the peanut butter she had missed or just skip it this week and move on, when her vision caught on a man standing in the chip aisle, less than fifteen feet away.
Was it him? There was no way on earth it could have been. What was his name? Her brain scrambled to remember but came up blank.
Christopher, her youngest, had made her watch that movie so many times over the years she should know all the actors by heart. The Avengers was one of his all-time favorites. They would make a night of it when he was littler – both in age and in size – snuggled up on the couch, a big bowl of salty, buttery popcorn between them. Once the movie began, speaking became a cardinal sin in their living room.
The first couple of times Kaitlyn watched the film she enjoyed it, picking up little jokes and references she missed the time before. But by the fourth or fifth time she had stopped paying attention, mostly enjoying the popcorn and the company, and tried to keep herself awake. Sleeping through The Avengers was an even bigger sin than talking over it.
The man in front of her bore a striking resemblance to the character Hawkeye. Of course, this man was not wearing the costume of the character, because that would be weird, but his profile, his build, his hair – it all screamed Hawkeye. Or whatever the actor’s name was. She had to know, had to get closer. What would Chris think of her if she missed an opportunity to get him an autograph? He might never forgive her.
In her heart of hearts, though, she knew it couldn’t be him. He was a big movie star and most likely lived in California, or somewhere exotic. Why would he be shopping in a Hannaford’s grocery store in southern Maine? She reassured herself she was doing this for Chris, and so, despite not needing any salty snack food, she pointed her shopping cart at the shelves full of chips, and walked, slowly closing in on her target.
“Hawkeye” had turned and now stood with his back to her, comparing one bag of tortilla chips to another. Pretending she needed something there, she stopped next to him and said, “I’d go for the cantina style. Lighter texture and not as much salt. Unless you like salt, that is, then I’d go for the other ones.” She reached up and grabbed a bag of pretzels, suddenly aware that she was sweating, and prayed she didn’t smell bad as she stood with her arm raised a foot away from the man’s face.
He raised his eyes to meet hers with a smile and, she quickly noted, no ring on his left hand. Why the hell did she even notice that? A quick glance told her this wasn’t the person she thought it was. It also told her, screamed at her really, that this guy was pretty good looking in his own right. He glanced briefly at her ring finger then shifted his gaze back to look her in the eye. “I actually do prefer the lighter texture. I guess I’ll give ‘em a try.” He put the other bag back on the shelf, laid the selected bag on top of a carton of eggs. “Thanks,” he said and continued on his way, leaving a faint trace of his scent in his wake. Cologne? Soap? Deodorant?
Heat radiated up her neck and into her cheeks as she stood, holding an unnecessary bag of Rold Golds, grappling with the idea that she just flirted with a strange man in the supermarket. She stared down at her left hand, the diamonds sparkling in the gold setting, the ring as stunning as it had been the day Dan slid it on her finger. She closed her eyes, took a slow steadying breath and waited for the guilt to set in.
“Hey, Sweetheart,” she called when she heard the front door open and close. She listened to his footsteps as they neared and then entered the kitchen. The setting of the late summer sun cast a deep yellow glow throughout the room. “You’re right on time,” she said. “I’m making your favorite – honey mustard chicken.” She turned and smiled, pleased by the bewildered look on his face. “How was your game? I hope you worked up an appetite.” While he stood, unmoving, he watched as she reached into the cabinet to grab out some dinner dishes.
She noticed the hesitation in his voice before he responded. “Yeah, Ma. The game was great. And, yeah, I’m starved.” He took a step closer, peeking at the pots on the stove. “Any chance of rice pilaf?”
“Green beans, too! Why don’t you go up and shower while I finish getting dinner on the table. You’ve got about ten minutes, so be quick.” She smiled at him. “You going back out tonight, or you staying home?” She taste tested a spoonful of the pilaf. It was perfect. “Because if you’re staying in, I was thinking maybe, if you wanted to, we could make some popcorn and watch The Avengers – or whatever movie you want. You know? Like we used to.”
Christopher walked over, leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Nah, I’m not going anywhere tonight. Everyone’s working but me.” He chuckled. “The Avengers sounds good. It’s been a few years since we’ve watched that.” He lifted the lid off the pot of green beans, stole one out and popped it in his mouth. “Oh. I forgot to write down the message, but Charlie Pierson called again.”
She heard the optimism in his voice, felt his eyes on her, waiting for her to respond. She stirred the rice pilaf, trying to seem nonchalant. “Oh yeah?” She put the spoon down then reached into the drawer and grabbed out silverware to set their places. “What did he want?” She hoped Chris didn’t notice her fingers tremble as she placed the forks and knives on the table.
“Seriously, Ma? What do you think he wanted?” Chris grinned at her. “Come on, give the guy a break. Give him one chance. One date.” He stood behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, then leaned in and confided, “You know it’s not easy for a guy to ask a girl out…”
She crinkled her nose. “I feel bad for any girl that you ask out if you show up smelling like that!” They both laughed in an easy way, the way they used to. “Go take your shower so we can eat.” She shooed him away.
He backed away from her, hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” He turned and left the kitchen. Grabbing the doorframe, he leaned his head back in. “You should definitely call him…” Before she could reply, he had gone, sprinting up the stairs toward the bathroom.
Once the dinner dishes were cleared, the popcorn buttered and salted, she and Chris took their places on the tan, suede couch. The familiar movie started on the screen across from them.
At the first sight of Hawkeye, she had made her decision. “Okay,” she said softly. Chris turned to her and a little louder she said, “Okay, I’ll call Charlie. What’s one date, right?”
Chris grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Ssshhh,” he said. “There is no talking during The Avengers.” He shoved the popcorn in his mouth, and sank back into the couch to watch the movie as a smile slowly worked its way across his face.
Thank you for reading my little story. If you liked what you read, subscribe to my newsletter and receive my free novella, Always You, as my way of saying thanks for coming along on this journey with me. (Always You is a slow burn, stand-alone, friends-to-lovers romance with a lot of heat and a feel-good HEA. It is intended for readers 18+.)
E.A. Brady 