Chapter Text
Everyone said it was no wonder you’d ended up here.
Well, no, no one said it aloud, but everyone thought so. You were an old soul. They just needed to look at your list of hobbies to find out.
Writing a list of hobbies had been your colleague’s idea. She was also your best friend, and she wanted you to find your ideal partner.
“You spend all your time here surrounded by people in their 80s,” she said. “That’s great if you’re looking for bingo players, but it’s not so great if you want to ask someone out. But never fear, I know people of all ages.” She smiled proudly.
Unlike you, your friend didn’t live in the home for the elderly. She had rented one room nearby, a 7-minute bike ride.
You liked living and working here. You liked taking care of the elderly people and having fun with them. You were a pro at bingo, and you loved watching soap operas with them because they shared their insightful and often hilarious thoughts on every episode:
“I would let this cowboy to throw their lasso around me.”
“Oh, dear. His stamina. Do men like this one exist in real life?”
“Stop arguing! Admit that you want to kiss her!”
“Is angry sex that good?”
You always bursted into laughter and tried to hide your face behind a cushion, but there was always a resident ready to snatch it from your hands. “Don’t hold back laughter, dear, and tell us what you think of the cowboy.”
Yes, you loved the residents. You were happy here.
Your friend also liked this place, otherwise, she’d have already quit the job. She had never stayed in the same job this long (you hoped she’d stay here for a long time).
Your friend got along with the residents, especially the sassiest ones. They share the same sense of humour. She also got along with a teen volunteer named Ellie who always carried a book of puns and asked the residents questions about their young years.
Perhaps you should go outside more often, but this place made you feel cozy. Everyone here knew you. You didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. You could wear your oversized clothes and tie your hair in a loose ponytail without anyone telling you to change your style. You didn’t have to hide the books you read or try to look sophisticated.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t think it’s going to work,” you said.
You had never had boyfriends or one-night stands or friends with benefits. You had met handsome men. Some of them had tried to invite you over for a drink, but you had always declined the invitations. You knew what they were expecting, and you didn’t want them to waste their time.
You had never been attracted to them.
“It’s going to work because I’m a good matchmaker. I shall give you my reference if you’d like.”
You shook your head, letting out a small laugh. She meant well, and you knew that she would never insist again if you told her the idea of finding a partner was making you uncomfortable.
She pushed a sheet of paper and a pen into your hand. “Write.”
You remembered a conversation with two residents a few days ago:
“Go to a pub and find someone you can get your happy ending, if you know what I mean.”
“Sex,” the other resident said. “She means sex. Strip yourself bare and release your pent-up energy. Let loose. Seize the day!”
Their words hadn’t bothered you, but you hadn’t told them that you weren’t looking for a one-night stand.
*
List of hobbies:
Sewing by the fire
Baking oatmeal raisin cookies
Reading books (favourite genres: cozy mystery, cozy fantasy, romcoms, middle grade).
Cuddling cats
Playing mystery board games
Playing bingo with the residents
Watching soap operas with the residents
Gardening
Dancing
“Hmm,” your friend studied the list. “I think I can work with this.”
You still weren’t convinced. ”Do you?”
She smiled. “Have some faith. He’s a softie. You’ll like him.”
*
One day after the conversation, a man showed up on the home for the elderly. He was about a decade older than you, you figured.
Tall, short curly hair with grey streaks, 4-day stubble, broad shoulders, a warm smile. You smiled at him without realizing it.
He stood before your desk.
“Joel Miller, contractor. I’ve been told there’s a table in need of repair.”
You were a little confused. “Well, some months ago a resident knocked over a paint bottle, but it’s fine. They only use that table to do crafts, so scrapes and stains are to be expected.”
His smile didn’t fell. It pushed up into his soft brown eyes. “I’d repair it for free. It’s not a bother. I’d like to do something as a thanks for making Ellie feel welcome.”
You looked at him with surprise. “You know Ellie?”
“She’s my youngest daughter.”
“Oh, the residents love her.”
He chuckled. “I bet they do. She’s told me about her favourite people here, and they seem wild.” His tone was astounded.
You giggled. “They are, but it’s all in good fun. They never intend to hurt other people’s feelings.”
He nodded. “The same with Ellie. She’s a good kiddo.”
You smiled. “She is.”
There was a brief silence. His lips were still slightly curved upwards, and his expression was unguarded. He didn’t seem in a hurry, but you didn’t want to make him wait. Surely, he was a busy man.
You stood up from your chair. “Please, follow me, Mr. Miller.”
You ran into your friend in the corridor. Her face lit up upon seeing him. She winked at you before offering him her hand.
“Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Miller. It’s wonderful to see you here.”
He shook your friend’s hand, smiling softly. “I’m happy to help.”
You looked at your friend in disbelief. She had picked Ellie’s dad. This was a mistake. If you went on a date with him and something went wrong, you could ruin your relationship with Ellie. You could even ruin it just by going on a date with him. Perhaps Ellie thought it was weird that you hung out with his dad.
Your friend gave you a pat on the arm. “You can keep him company while he works. I’ll take care of everything.”
You opened your mouth even though you didn’t know what you were going to say, but Mr. Miller was faster:
“It’s okay. I don’t want to take up anyone’s time.” He gave you a reassuring smile.
He didn’t look hurt, but you felt bad all the same. He was doing this for free. This was the least you could do. “It’s not a bother,” you said, remembering his words earlier. “I’ll be happy to keep you company, Mr. Miller.”
His eyes crinkled when he beamed at you. He had one of the warmest smiles you’d ever seen. He offered you his hand. “Please, call me Joel.”
You took it. His hand was strong, with broad and calloused fingers. His hand was also warm, and you kept holding it even though the handshake was lingering too long. “Joel.”
He gave you a gentle squeeze, and your heart fluttered in your chest.
Your friend winked at you again.
Oh, no.