They stepped into the calm of night, the darkness dispersed by a sky full of silvery stars and strands of golden, twinkling lights stretching from the eaves of the barn across the expansive field of Kentucky bluegrass. The music followed them, providing a mellifluous soundtrack as they strolled to the edge of the lawn overlooking the apple orchard.
“Remember when we used to play tag between the rows of trees?” Eliza kept her hold on Grant’s hand. Her soft, tender grip made it difficult for him to concentrate.
“I sure do. You were quick back then.”
“I still am,” Eliza laughed.
Grant’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her captivating smile framed in the moonlight. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? Or how he longed to be the one to keep that vivid sparkle in her eyes?
The dulcet notes of “It Had to Be You” carried across the lawn, prickling the back of Grant’s neck with goose bumps. They used to joke that this was their song. Although, they’d loved so many, they found it hard to choose. Years later, when Grant really wanted to torture himself, he would play it when he was alone in his apartment and let the lyrics mock him. Now, as the words washed over him, an uncomfortable tightness seized his throat, and he coughed to clear it.
“Care to dance?” he asked, ignoring the huskiness in his tone.
“Here?” Eliza bit her bottom lip, her wary glance darting back toward the barn.
They were completely alone, save for a lone owl hooting in the distance. Grant liked to think the sage creature was imparting its wisdom, encouraging them to go for it.
Eliza seemed to agree as she stepped into his arms, her lips tipped into a playful smile. “I suppose here is all right.”
Grant chuckled softly, pulling her against him. “Glad you approve.”
As they swayed to the familiar melody, Eliza rested her head against Grant’s chest, and he closed his eyes, breathing in her sweet scent. The scent he’d tried to hold on to for as long as possible. Even refusing to wash the hoodie she’d habitually borrowed in high school. The soft cotton fabric provided a passport back in time whenever he became fearful of forgetting.
Grant splayed his fingers across her lower back, relishing the feel of her body nestled against his. For so many years, he’d physically ached to hold her in his arms again. And now, here they were. His most fervent dream encapsulated in a single moment in time, and Grant never wanted to wake up.
But what if he told her how he felt? Would the protective curtain surrounding them come crashing down? Or did he have a chance to turn this—whateverthiswas—into something more?
“Lizzy…” Grant started, soft and tentative, as though tiptoeing upon his confession. “There’s something I want to tell you. But I’m not sure if I should….”
“What is it?” Eliza murmured, nuzzling against him, her voice distant and dreamy.
Grant inhaled, noting the way her head rose and fell with each breath he took. It was now or never. He’d have to take the leap or learn to live with his regrets.
And the latter seemed impossible.
“The truth is… I’ve never stopped thinking about you, wondering if I gave up on us too easily.” His chest constricted at the memory of all those years ago, when he’d let her walk away.
Grant allowed himself a fragment of time to revel in the blissful sensation of their entwined fingers, the pulse of their heartbeats thrumming as one, in case his next words broke the spell. “If there’s any hope of a future together, I will fight for you with everything I have. But if you love someone else… if there’s a chance that you, Ben, and his father can be a family… I won’t come between that. But if I have a shot… even if it’s a long shot, I have to know. If not, don’t sugarcoat it. I can handle the truth.”
Finished with his proclamation, Grant held his breath, wondering if she could hear his desperate heart pummeling his rib cage.
Eliza gazed up at him, her dark eyes shimmering like the twinkle lights draped above them.
A small hesitant smile graced her lips as she asked, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Chapter 19
Drawing in a purposeful breath, Eliza attempted to steady her trembling fingers as she applied a final coat of Hot Pink Sunset. The vibrant fuchsia lipstick would act as her armor, a defense against kissing Grant on their date tonight. Because she couldn’t kiss him. Not yet. First, she had to untangle herself from the mess she’d made.
The truth was her only hope.
And her greatest obstacle.
The doorbell chimed, and Eliza heard Ben shout, “I’ll get it!” as he clomped across the house to answer the door.
Setting down her lipstick, she scrutinized her appearance one last time before heading downstairs. Despite wearing more makeup than usual, she left her hair loose, tumbling in soft, casual waves around her shoulders. Since she wasn’t sure what Grant had in mind for their date, she’d paired white capris with simple wedges and a floral off-the-shoulder blouse.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Grant glanced up from his conversation with Ben, his words faltering mid-sentence. Eliza hid a smile at the dazed look on his face. Guess she’d chosen the right outfit.
