The lie hangs between us like fog. The cookies cool on the counter. Outside, the storm keeps building.
And even with Christmas lights glowing soft and warm around us, something between us slips just slightly out of place.
Dominic
The tension has to break. Rachel wants to pretend that nothing is wrong, but it can’t go on like this. I can’t go on like this.
She’s in the kitchen, eating a biscuit when I find her the next morning. The flannel shirt she stole from my closet is misbuttoned and showcases an indecent amount of thigh when she sits down at the table.
“We need to talk,” I tell her wincing at my tone.
Freezing like a baby deer she stares at me with wide brown eyes as a flaky crumb falls from her lip.
“It weirded you out when I gave you my truck, didn’t it?”
“A little,” she admits. “I know you probably have ten different cars but for someone like me it’s a big deal.”
“Why would I have ten cars?”
Rachel tilts her head, looking at me like I’m one of the data tables she analyzed for her business plan.
“So, you don’t invest. You don’t buy overpriced cars. What do you do with your money?” she asks.
“Pay my bills,” I reply, not knowing how else to answer the question. “Property taxes. Occasionally I buy a round for the guys down at the station.”
She stares at me like I’m insane.
“I might not be able to invest in your business, but I can afford a new truck,” I tell her.
She sets the biscuit down on her plate. Then she bursts into laughter. It’s a sweet sound, and it warms my soul. Even if this entire conversation confuses the hell out of me.
“Yesenia told me you were a billionaire,” she confesses with tears in her eyes. “That you’d love to add a restaurant to your investment portfolio.”
It’s not even that shocking. My grandmother has two dozen successful matches under her belt. The lie she told Rachel to get her up the mountain to me doesn’t even crack the top ten.
“Yesenia Flores is my abuela on my mother’s side.”
Rachel’s hands come up to cover her mouth as she giggles. She gestures up and down at me with her hand.
“You look nothing alike!”
“We did, before I hit puberty but now, I look more like my dad’s side.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she says grinning from ear to ear.
“Nah, you don’t have to. Abuela’s gonna show you all the baby photos.”
She stands up, arms wrapping around my neck as she sits on my lap.
“Why did you give me your truck?”
Her chin rests on my shoulder, and brown eyes peer up at me leaving me nowhere to run.
“I wanted you to have the choice to leave.”
Our connection is undeniable, but if Rachel decides to leave, I won’t stand in her way. I barely go into town as it is. As small as Crescent Ridge is, I’m sure I can avoid one little baker.
I’ll protect her peace like I protect the mountain. Without a trace. If all I get are four magical days with Rachel, then I’ll count myself lucky. Four days or forty years, if I’ve learned anything it’s that neither is enough. It’s not time that quantifies the love. It’s the in-between moments that cobble together to fill the space in my heart that was void before she crashed into my life.
