Iturn and head down the driveway.
Maybeit would be okay to fall for him.I’dlike to thinkIcould spot someone pretending to be into me.Hedefinitely doesn’t seem to be pretending.Ourpull toward each other is obviously mutual.It’dbe impossible for me to feel it this strongly if it were only me.
It’sa remarkable thing.Hedrove away thirty seconds ago and alreadyImiss looking at his face, miss him being within touching distance, miss wondering what playful, teasingly sarcastic thing he might say next.Andmaybe when something as out of the ordinary as this crosses your path it would be stupid to ignore it.
Iopen the back door to findMomandCarlystanding by the kitchen window.Carlywith an expression somewhere betweenItold you soandwhen does he buy you a yacht?, andMomwith a concerned smile.
“Don’tstart.”Iscrunch my eyes and press my palm to my forehead. “Neitherof you start.Ihave a throbbing headache and need to lie down.”
“Wesaw you kiss him,” saysCarly.
Iprop the wreath against the shoe rack. “Igathered that from the looks on your faces.”
“Andwe saw the way you were smiling to yourself as you walked down the driveway,” saysMomas she reaches for a chair and slowly lowers herself into it. “Ihaven’t seen you smile like that for a long time.”Sherests her elbows on the table. “Actually,Idon’t thinkI’veever seen you smile quite like that before.”
“Yeah,” saysCarly, leaning on the counter with one hand on her hip. “That’sa real ‘Iwant to bang him’ smile.”
“Carly,”MomandIsnap in unison asIgrab a glass and fill it from the tap.
“Ormaybe an ‘I’vejustbanged him’ smile,” she adds, lips puckered.
Momtuts the tut of a woman who knows there’s no point attempting to tameCarly.
“Oh, stop.”Ipress the cool glass to my forehead. “I’min pain.Whyare you here anyway?”
“ThoughtI’dcatch up with your mom—coincidentally at exactly the time you might be back from your date withMr.Twinkles.”
“Itwasn’t a date.”
“Yougo lie down for a while,”Momintervenes. “Youcan tell us about it later.Butplease be sure he’s not one of those flashy city types who swoops into town, snatches what they want, then swoops out never to be seen again and doesn’t give a damn about the mess they leave behind.”
Andthere she goes.Voicingmy exact fears.
We’veseen it all before.
Ivowed never to fall for it.
ButMaxis so real.Noway could he fake that combination of passion and affection just to try to get me to disband the protest.No.Ifhe didn’t care, he’d brush me off like an annoying piece of lint on his fancy suit and destroyMainStreetwithout giving me a second thought.
Hewouldn’t have kissed me on the cheek by the tractor or on the temple outside the shed or given me that tender kiss on the lips by the cab just now.Thoseare not the actions of someone who doesn’t give a crap.
AndLordknows, those are the things that are sending me head over heels for him.Alongwith the charm, and the banter, and the twinklers, and the shoulders, and the butt.
I’dwritten off the idea of ever feeling like this about anyone.Sure,Iliked the boysIdated in college.Andthere weren’t as many asCarlyalways jokes.Butmost of them felt more like friendsIslept with than people who blew my mind and rocked my world in the way everyone says the “right” person does.
Idid thinkIwas in love with the last one,Michael, though.Buthe showed his true colors a few months after graduation when my dad had his heart attack and was rushed to the hospital.Michaelrefused to go with me.He’dstarted his first job in the actuary department at a big insurance firm inManhattana few weeks before and said he couldn’t drop everything and race to be with me or his bosses would think he had a bad attitude.
Henever liked the idea of me opening the shop up here anyway.HethoughtIshould use my marketing degree to climb the corporate ladder in the city.Iguess he never really knew me.
Ihave a vague recollection of standing outside the hospital, phone to my ear, shouting something about his priorities always being out of whack, and that was the end of him.
Itwas also the momentIbanished the idea of having any man in my life.Andthe momentIbecame very clear about my own priorities—making sureMomis as okay as she can be withoutDad, and building my business with a social conscience that would have made him proud.
Andthose are the only two thingsI’vethought about for the three years and seven months since.
Butnow here’sMaxand the whirlwind around him that’s churned up feelingsIdidn’t even knowIhad in me.Andwhile at first it looked like his priorities were even more out of whack thanMichael’s, the moreIget to know him and pick up bits and pieces—like how genuine he is with people even if he does have ulterior motives—the moreI’mwilling to acceptImight have misjudged him.
Ipause on my way toward the stairs and the lure of the cool sheets on my bed.
