Zander was certain that of the two of them, he was the luckiest. He was also the one who loved the most, which left him exposed.
A warning bell sounded deep inside him. He’d gambled all on this relationship. If things didn’t work out, he’d lose his best friend and one of the only families he’d ever had.
Already, he was acting with as much caution as possible. What more could he do? He and Britt were together. He didn’t want his dread of losing her to ruin the joy of having her.
One perfect week slid by.
When Britt was making chocolate, Zander was writing. When Britt was off work, the two of them were together.
They hiked and kayaked and sailed and watched movies. They hung out with Carolyn and with Britt’s family. They hunted for the painting in Frank’s office building and at Frank and Carolyn’schurch. They cooked side by side and shared their plates at restaurants.
Britt’s parents had long called Britt and Zander inseparable. But now, except for work hours and sleep hours, they really were.
Britt sat in her living room, reading her most recent book purchase,Chocolate-Making Through the Centuries.
When Zander had finished his pages for the day, she’d encouraged him to spend the afternoon attending to the marketing responsibilities his publisher had added to his plate. The two of them had made plans to drive to Shelton to hear a band this evening.
Unfortunately, the Monday evening weather seemed to have other ideas. A spring storm had stalled overhead and instead of decreasing, the drenching rain only seemed to be strengthening.
She kept expecting him to text her to say he’d arrive to pick her up after the rain. So far, he hadn’t. And so far, she’d learned that archaeologists had unearthed a ceramic vessel on the Gulf Coast of Mexico that contained the chemical footprint of cacao. They’d dated the vessel to approximately 1750 BC.
1750 BC!Maybe Zander would be willing to travel with her to Mexico later this year to check out the site and try the chocolate from that region—
Her doorbell rang. She startled, then hurried to her door. Surely, he hadn’t braved the downpour—
He had. He stood on her front step, soaked. His dark hair gleamed black with moisture. His eyelashes formed spiky points. His white shirt clung to his chest in translucent swaths. His jeans looked like they’d been dipped in a lake. Behind him, gray streaked vertically to the earth with a droning white noise.
Self-deprecation tipped up his lips. “I didn’t want to be late.”
He was soaked and probably cold, and she wanted to nurture him almost as much as she wanted to launch herself into his arms. “I was thinking you’d arrive after this let up.”
“I told you I’d be here at six, so I’m here at six.”
Trustworthy Zander, who always did what he said he’d do. Now that she thought about it, that quality was unusual. It wasn’t even something she expected from most of her friends and acquaintances. It was commonplace for people to agree to do a thing, then rationalize it or excuse it away when that thing became too challenging or too boring.
“Come inside,” she said.
“And drip all over your floors? I don’t have anything to change into, so there’s no point in coming in.”
“But you must be chilly.”
“Nah. It feels kind of good actually.” He slowly walked backward down her steps, still facing her, until he’d left her porch.
He was standing unprotected beneath a storm and enjoying it.
Her own sense of adventure kicked in. She raced into the downpour after him. He caught her just the way he had the day he’d returned from his Grand Tour.
The pelting rain snatched Britt’s breath, even though Zander had been right ... this late May rain wasn’t cold. It held summer’s promise far more than winter’s memory.
“I didn’t want you to get wet.” Laughter stitched through his statement.
“I wasn’t about to let you have all the fun.”
“But you’d done your hair and put on makeup....”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“One of these days your spontaneity is going to bite you.” He grinned.
