She shrugs. “You don’t need much longer than that to figure out if someone’s right for you. It’s a total gut thing. If you don’t feel it right away, you never will. Like with you. I knew right away that we could be friends. And with Jake, I knew right away that he was a boring nerd who I should avoid at all costs.”
“Joke’s on you, you married me,” Jake says.
“Only for the money.”
“I haven’t made any money yet.”
“Yeah, but you will,” Kiara says. “The minute you graduate, I’m putting you to work.”
I fall silent for a moment, thinking. “So it’s really just a gut thing, you think?”
“Yep. Look, are you and John happy together? Don’t think about it, just answer yes or no.”
I bite my lip. “Yes.”
She shrugs. “So that’s that.”
My brow wrinkles. “It isn’t that simple, though. I think I could be happy with a lot of people, for a little while. I could date you for a few weeks and be perfectly happy.”
She puts her hands to her heart. “Aw.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can be happy with someoneforever. Tons of people get married, and they’re happy for years, but then it doesn’t last. Er—no offense,” I add hastily. “I just don’t know how you can ever know for sure that you’ll be happy with someone forever.”
Kiara takes a bite of watermelon. She’s still lying down, so the juices run down her cheeks into her hair. She sits up and wipes it off with the back of her hand. “Look, you want to know what I think the real secret is to being happy with someone in the long term?”
“Thesecret?” Jake says. “This ought to be good.”
I smother a smile. “Tell us.”
Kiara pushes her sunglasses up. “Your happiness cannot depend on them. So many people think it’s their partner’s job to make them happy, and that’s just total bullshit. Jake makes me happy, but it’s not hisjob. It’s my job to make me happy. Just like it’s his job to make himself happy. Our individual happiest lives will either be compatible or they won’t. Take John.” She gestures toward the racetrack, where John’s car is thundering around the last corner. “His happiest life is living in Waldon and doing shit like this and working in the shop. Is your own happiest life compatible with that, or not?”
I hesitate. That was part of why I didn’t want to have a crush on John in the first place, because I felt like he wasn’t the type of guy who would fit into my dream life. But things are different now. Aren’t they? I know John so much better. And things between us are really, really good.
Still, do I really think I can build a life in Waldon that willmake me truly happy? Because if I can’t, then Kiara’s right—it doesn’t matter if John might be the one. I won’t be happy in my own right, and even if I can push it aside for a while, resentment will start to bleed in. I’ll start to blame him for my unhappiness, even though, like Kiara says, my happiness is not his job. It’s my job to build a life that makes me happy. So can I do that in Waldon, or not?
“I think so,” I say.
Kiara raises an eyebrow. “Better make sure,” she says. For the first time, I hear a hint of older-sister-protectiveness creeping into her tone. “John may be a bit of an idiot, but he’s one of the good ones. And he really likes you.”
I watch the cars slow down and file into the pit lane. The race is over; I’m not sure if John’s car won. I stand up and walk a few steps away from Kiara and Jake, watching John approach the car as Tim gets out and pulls his helmet off. They chat for a few minutes, laughing about something. John spots me watching and gives me a thumbs-up, and I feel a strange twisting in my gut.
I glance back at Kiara, and I think about all our coffee dates, and how I already feel like she’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Then I think about Jim, who called me his guardian angel last week when I went with him to the cemetery to visit his wife’s grave. I think about the guided tour I gave last week to a bunch of kids from Mr. Peterson’s school, and how much fun they all had with the new exhibit, and how Trey and I are working on setting up summer classes for kids.
I do think I could make a life for myself here. I really do. But there’s a prickly thread of uneasiness underneath my contentment, something I can’t quite pinpoint or name.
John walks toward me, looking happy and handsome. “Having fun?”
I draw up a smile. “Definitely.”
“Cooler than a barrel museum.”
I make an indignant noise. “As if.”
He leans down and casually brushes his lips over mine. I lean into the kiss, trying to wash away the strange, prickly feeling inside me.
“I’ve got to check a few things and then I’m going to run to the food truck to grab us some tacos,” he says. “You want anything else?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Thanks.”
