“Now you’re thinking like Dad.” How many times had his father asked him why he was messing around with “those goddamn games” when he had the brain capacity to do something extraordinary? Of course, by that, his father meant anything that profited his own companies.
Wes was honest enough with himself to know he was similar to his father in many ways. Not the coldhearted, detached way, but certainly a left-brain, analytical thinker. His mother, on the other hand, was as far to the right side of the brain as one could be. Their union had been a disaster. They’d based decision after decision, including their elopement and four children, on a roller-coaster ride of feelings—until the ride crashed. Splintered apart.
He didn’t want that. There’d been no common ground and both of them ended up lost. That was the part Wes feared most: losing himself in another person to the point that without them, he’d end up traipsing around the world like his mother or crushing everything in his path like his father.
Instead, he wanted a smoothly paved road with someone he could care about with limits. Mutual admiration and affection didn’t seem like too much to ask for. Maybe it was foolish but if he could perfectly program a multilevel video game, why couldn’t he plan his love life?
The dating apps weren’t working. He needed the perfect balance of spark and sensibility. There had to be some chemistry but not so much he’d give up his soul. Or his heart. Why was he torturing himself with this? He’d been through enough change in the last couple of months. Adding dating into the equation was doing nothing more than exhausting him. Besides, his life didn’t feel as … aimless at the moment. He smiled, thinking of Hailey. Perhaps he’d just needed a friend.
His phone buzzed with his grocery alarm. Saturday evenings were for shopping at the larger box store. It was quiet and well stocked. Leaving his balcony door open a touch, he added a reminder in his phone to schedule someone to install AC, then double-checked his grocery list against his fridge and cupboards.
If he needed a last-minute item, he could easily walk to one of the smaller convenience shops in the square. Walking was in his blood, being a New Yorker. But it was easier, on these larger, weekly shops, to take the car.
As usual, there were few customers, so he backed his SUV into a spot close to the door. Setting his reusable bags in the front of the cart, he grabbed his sanitizing spray and gave the handles a little spritz before tucking it back in the bag.
With his phone sitting on the bags, list open, he navigated his way to the left, preferring to start on one side and work his way to the other. He loved mundane, simple tasks that needed doing but required no brain power. It was typically when he brainstormed ideas for the gaming worlds or apps he created.
Six each of apples, oranges, and pears, and one bag of green grapes. As a kid, he’d play Mario Kart and then draw his own version of the worlds. He’d kept those tucked away in a sketchbook labeled BIG IDEAS. He smiled to himself now as he set back the bag of grapes he’d chosen and went with red instead. He was so na?ve when he was young. He’d actually asked his father if he could help him get his game ideas to Nintendo. He had all sorts of additions they could have made to make the games even cooler than they were.
His father had squashed that idea like a fire ant. With malice and purpose.
“Wes?”
He turned at the sound of his name and his smile escaped without warning. “Hey, Hailey.”
She was dressed in a pale blue hoodie and a pair of black pants that came just below her knees. Her flip flops revealed brightly painted toenails, which, for some reason, made him smile wider.
“Making fruit salad?” She gestured to his cart.
“Not exactly.” He eyed her basket.
She moved it behind her back, making him laugh too loud.
“That’s a lot of chocolate. I’m beginning to worry you might have a problem.” He arched his brows, waited her out.
“Buying for a friend.”
He laughed again. “Sure.”
“Whatever, Mr. Healthy. I hadn’t gotten to this section yet. I hit the important stuff first.” She picked up an orange and put it in her basket. He stared at her, amused, as she held his gaze, reached for an apple, and put that in her basket, too.
“To dip in my chocolate,” she said.
The wires in his brain crisscrossed for a nanosecond, heating his skin.
“Smart,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gruff.
She fell into step beside him, leaned in to check out his list. She smelled like fruit and soap, which, in his opinion, was nicer than expensive perfumes.